Poetry: Lord Byron - Hebrew Melodies - Part 1 - She walks in beauty - The harp the monarch minstrel swept - If that high world - Links to more Byron
Posted by Ricardo Marcenaro | Posted in Poetry: Lord Byron - Hebrew Melodies - Part 1 - She walks in beauty - The harp the monarch minstrel swept - If that high world - Links to more Byron | Posted on 9:54
HEBREW MELODIES
ADVERTISEMENT.
The subsequent poems were written at the request of my friend, the Hon. Douglas Kinnaid,[*] for a Selection of Hebrew Melodies, and have been published, with the music, arranged by Mr Braham and Mr Nathan.
* [Transcriber's note: the impression is bad here and I am uncertain that I have correctly rendered this name.]
SHE WALKS IN BEAUTY.
She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies:
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellow'd to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impair'd the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express,
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.
And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!
THE HARP THE MONARCH MINSTREL SWEPT.
The harp the monarch minstrel swept,
The King of men, the loved of Heaven,
Which Music hallow'd while she wept
O'er tones her heart of hearts had given,
Redoubled be her tears, its chords are riven!
It soften'd men of iron mould,
It gave them virtues not their own;
No ear so dull, no soul so cold,
That felt not, fired not to the tone,
Till David's lyre grew mightier than his throne.
It told the triumphs of our King,
It wafted glory to our God;
It made our gladden'd valleys ring,
The cedars bow, the mountains nod;
Its sound aspired to heaven, and there abode!
Since then, though heard on earth no more,
Devotion, and her daughter Love,
Still bid the bursting spirit soar
To sounds that seem as from above,
In dreams that day's broad light can not remove.
IF THAT HIGH WORLD.
If that high world, which lies beyond
Our own, surviving Love endears;
If there the cherish'd heart be fond,
The eye the same, except in tears --
How welcome those untrodden spheres!
How sweet this very hour to die!
To soar from earth, and find all fears
Lost in thy light -- Eternity!
It must be so: 'tis not for self
That we so tremble on the brink;
And striving to o'erleap the gulf,
Yet cling to Being's severing link.
Oh! in that future let us think
To hold each heart the heart that shares.
With them the immortal waters drink,
And soul in soul grow deathless theirs!
ADVERTISEMENT.
The subsequent poems were written at the request of my friend, the Hon. Douglas Kinnaid,[*] for a Selection of Hebrew Melodies, and have been published, with the music, arranged by Mr Braham and Mr Nathan.
* [Transcriber's note: the impression is bad here and I am uncertain that I have correctly rendered this name.]
SHE WALKS IN BEAUTY.
She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies:
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellow'd to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impair'd the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express,
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.
And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!
THE HARP THE MONARCH MINSTREL SWEPT.
The harp the monarch minstrel swept,
The King of men, the loved of Heaven,
Which Music hallow'd while she wept
O'er tones her heart of hearts had given,
Redoubled be her tears, its chords are riven!
It soften'd men of iron mould,
It gave them virtues not their own;
No ear so dull, no soul so cold,
That felt not, fired not to the tone,
Till David's lyre grew mightier than his throne.
It told the triumphs of our King,
It wafted glory to our God;
It made our gladden'd valleys ring,
The cedars bow, the mountains nod;
Its sound aspired to heaven, and there abode!
Since then, though heard on earth no more,
Devotion, and her daughter Love,
Still bid the bursting spirit soar
To sounds that seem as from above,
In dreams that day's broad light can not remove.
IF THAT HIGH WORLD.
If that high world, which lies beyond
Our own, surviving Love endears;
If there the cherish'd heart be fond,
The eye the same, except in tears --
How welcome those untrodden spheres!
How sweet this very hour to die!
To soar from earth, and find all fears
Lost in thy light -- Eternity!
It must be so: 'tis not for self
That we so tremble on the brink;
And striving to o'erleap the gulf,
Yet cling to Being's severing link.
Oh! in that future let us think
To hold each heart the heart that shares.
With them the immortal waters drink,
And soul in soul grow deathless theirs!
Childe
Harold's Pilgrimage
Poetry: Lord Byron - Childe Harold's Pilgrimage - Part 1 -
Preface and Canto I - Links to more Byron
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Poetry: Lord Byron - Hebrew Melodies - Part 1 - She walks in beauty - The harp the monarch minstrel swept - If that high world - Links to more Byron
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Mis blogs son una casa abierta a todas las culturas, religiones y países. Se un seguidor si quieres, con esta acción usted está construyendo una nueva cultura de la tolerancia, la mente y el corazón abiertos para la paz, el amor y el respeto humano.
Mis blogs son una casa abierta a todas las culturas, religiones y países. Se un seguidor si quieres, con esta acción usted está construyendo una nueva cultura de la tolerancia, la mente y el corazón abiertos para la paz, el amor y el respeto humano.
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