The Complete Poems of Sir Thomas Moore Part 89

NETS AND CAGES.[1]

(SWEDISH AIR.)

Come, listen to my story, while Your needle task you ply: At what I sing some maids will smile, While some, perhaps, may sigh.

Though Love's the theme, and Wisdom blames Such florid songs as ours,

Yet Truth sometimes, like eastern dames, Can speak her thoughts by flowers.

Then listen, maids, come listen, while Your needle's task you ply; At what I sing there's some may smile, While some, perhaps, will sigh.

Young Cloe, bent on catching Loves, Such nets had learned to frame, That none, in all our vales and groves, E'er caught so much small game: But gentle Sue, less given to roam, While Cloe's nets were taking Such lots of Loves, sat still at home, One little Love-cage making.

Come, listen, maids, etc.

Much Cloe laughed at Susan's task; But mark how things went on: These light-caught Loves, ere you could ask Their name and age, were gone!

So weak poor Cloe's nets were wove, That, tho' she charm'd into them New game each hour, the youngest Love Was able to break thro' them.

Come, listen, maids, etc.

Meanwhile, young Sue, whose cage was wrought Of bars too strong to sever, One Love with golden pinions caught.

And caged him there for ever; Instructing, thereby, all coquettes, Whate'er their looks or ages, That, tho 'tis pleasant weaving Nets, 'Tis wiser to make Cages.

Thus, maidens, thus do I beguile The task your fingers ply.-- May all who hear like Susan smile, And not, like Cloe, sigh!

[1] Suggested by the following remark of Swift's;--"The reason why so few marriages are happy, is, because young ladies spend their time in making nets, not in making cages."

WHEN THROUGH THE PIAZZETTA.

(VENETIAN AIR.)

When thro' the Piazzetta Night breathes her cool air, Then, dearest Ninetta, I'll come to thee there.

Beneath thy mask shrouded, I'll know thee afar, As Love knows tho' clouded His own Evening Star.

In garb, then, resembling Some gay gondolier, I'll whisper thee, trembling, "Our bark, love, is near: "Now, now, while there hover "Those clouds o'er the moon, "'Twill waft thee safe over "Yon silent Lagoon."

GO, NOW, AND DREAM.

(SICILIAN AIR.)

Go, now, and dream o'er that joy in thy slumber-- Moments so sweet again ne'er shalt thou number.

Of Pain's bitter draught the flavor ne'er flies, While Pleasure's scarce touches the lip ere it dies.

Go, then, and dream, etc.

That moon, which hung o'er your parting, so splendid, Often will s.h.i.+ne again, bright as she then did-- But, never more will the beam she saw burn In those happy eyes, at your meeting, return.

Go, then, and dream, etc.

TAKE HENCE THE BOWL.

(NEAPOLITAN AIR.)

Take hence the bowl;--tho' beaming Brightly as bowl e'er shone, Oh, it but sets me dreaming Of happy days now gone.

There, in its clear reflection, As in a wizard's gla.s.s, Lost hopes and dead affection, Like shades, before me pa.s.s.

Each cup I drain brings. .h.i.ther Some scene of bliss gone by;-- Bright lips too bright to wither, Warm hearts too warm to die.

Till, as the dream comes o'er me Of those long vanished years, Alas, the wine before me Seems turning all to tears!

FAREWELL, THERESA!

(VENETIAN AIR.)

Farewell, Theresa! yon cloud that over Heaven's pale night-star gathering we see, Will scarce from that pure orb have past ere thy lover Swift o'er the wide wave shall wander from thee.

Long, like that dim cloud, I've hung around thee, Darkening thy prospects, saddening thy brow; With gay heart, Theresa, and bright cheek I found thee; Oh, think how changed, love, how changed art thou now!

But here I free thee: like one awaking From fearful slumber, thou break'st the spell; 'Tis over--the moon, too, her bondage is breaking-- Past are the dark clouds; Theresa, farewell!

HOW OFT, WHEN WATCHING STARS.