Songs Poem by Peter John Allan

I.
Oh, scan not too closely a heart that is thine,
Whatever its error or frailties may be ;
Believe not, my love, that it e'er could resign
The affection that once it had cherished for thee.

No! fancy may sometimes my reason control-
The surface be ruffled by passion's fierce breath,
But trust me, that still in the depths of my soul,
Love and reason together shall reign until death.

And did I but dream that I ever could prove
A rebel, my Mary, to honour and thee,
I would welcome my death, though it robb'd me of love,
And rejoice that thou ne'er couldst be injured by me.

Then scan not too closely a heart that is thine,
Whatever its errors or frailties may be;
Believe not, my love, that it e'er could resign
The affection that once it had cherished for thee.

II.
LONG had my heart desired to prove
The blissful pains of hearts that love,
And long desired in vain;
Dull reason still would hold its rule-
I had not time to play the fool,
Or let King Cupid reign.

Long in my heart a civil war-
A thoughtless wretch, I wearied for
The chains that now I wear;
And envied careworn Juan's sight,
Whom Isadora's scornful eyes
Have doomed to cold despair.

III.
BID me not tell thee how long I have loved,
Life would be gone ere the tale were half told;
Moments of bliss have such ecstasy proved-
Striving to paint them we both should grow old.

Oh! by this glance, which I feel must be bright
With the heart's glow of affection for thee;
Oh! by the bliss in that sigh which took flight,
Guess what the sum of my passion must be.

Yet if my lips must convince thee I love,
Oh, let them breathe the confession to thine;
And that I am prized by thee if thou prove,
Mingle thy sighs and thy tears, dear, with mine.

Thus, while through life we our pilgrimage take,
Hope shall spring up and o'erblossom the way;
For love of a desert a garden can make,
As dreams change the long, lonely night into day.

IV.
FREE as yon snowy cloud,
That o'er the azure sky
Is wafted gently near
With ev'ry zephyr's sigh,
So would I choose to be
Removed from earth,
And only witnessing
The lark's sweet mirth.

For what to me are all
Life's joys or woes?
I neither dread the thorn,
Nor love the rose.
Alas! it is my fate
To live and feel
Those pangs which death alone
Can ever heal.

V.
As when the seaman's sallow cheek
Relaxes to a smile,
When stormy winds have ceased to wreak
Their fatal ire awhile,
And from the midst of cloudy skies
The sun sends cheerful light,
To glad the ocean-wearied eyes,
With some green island bright;

Such joy my inmost bosom knows,
When you have ceased to frown,
And all the fearful lover's woes
At once are conjured down.
No more I dread the future day,
Nor think on sorrows flown,
But bask in love's returning ray,
The present all my own.

VI.
LOVE one day to Valour remarked with a smile,
'You do nothing but quarrel and fight all the while;
But, in spite of that buckler and falchion of thine,
Pray, what is your power after all, Sir, to mine?'

'Your power!' cried grim Valour, 'why where is it,
child?
At those playthings of arrows I often have smiled;
They seem to be fitted the robins to slay-
No harm could they do to game bigger than they.'

'Ha! say you so, bully?' young Cupid replied;
And Valour soon felt a sad stitch in his side;
In his left side it was, and his heart felt so sore,
That he laid down his arms, and could quarrel no more.

How Love then exulted, and laughed at his pain;
He laughed, lost his breath, fell a-laughing again,
Till, feeling a little compunction of heart,
He called Father Hymen to draw out the dart.