A LA SOMBRA DE MIS CABELLOS.
169
Then still thy fears!
Behold thy glorious home,
Yon star-roofed azure dome—
How infinite thy Father's house appears!
There, ah! there we'll rest,
Poor weak ones, on His breast;
Then, mourner, let thy frail heart break in tears,
But still thy fears!
Behold thy glorious home,
Yon star-roofed azure dome—
How infinite thy Father's house appears!
There, ah! there we'll rest,
Poor weak ones, on His breast;
Then, mourner, let thy frail heart break in tears,
But still thy fears!
SULEIMA TO HER LOVER.
FROM THE TURKISH.
HOU reck'nest seven Heavens; I but one:And thou art it, Beloved! Voice and hand,
And eye and mouth, are but the angel band
Who minister around that highest throne—
Thy godlike heart. And there I reign supreme,
And choose, at will, the angel who I deem
Will sing the sweetest, words I love to hear—
That short, sweet song, whose echo clear
Will last throughout eternity:
"I love thee!
How I love thee!"
A LA SOMBRA DE MIS CABELLOS.
FROM THE SPANISH.—SIXTEENTH CENTURY.
Y love lay there,In the shadow of my hair,
As my glossy raven tresses downward flow;
And dark as midnight's cloud,
They fell o'er him like a shroud:
Ah! does he now remember it or no?
