Lines.—I cannot sleep
I cannot sleep—my nights glide on
In one unbroken thought of thee;
And when the gloomy shades are gone,
I start the dawning light to see.
And as I watch the rising morn
Gain slowly o'er the yielding sky,
And mark another day new born,
That glows so brightly—yet must die—
I think how all the hopes we cherish
As transient, though as bright, will be;
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poem by Louisa Stuart Costello
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Song.—Oh, had I ne'er beheld thee
Oh! had I ne'er beheld thee
How calm my life had flown!
As cold, as pure and tranquil
As some fair vale unknown;
Where never yet the footsteps
Of wand'ring man has stray'd;
That smiles in lonely beauty
Unheeded—unsurve'd.
How cheerfully the moments
In sweet content went by,
When sorrow's cloud pass'd swiftly
Across a placid sky:
The charm of peace is broken—
Can nought its dream restore?
That sky, obscured by sadness,
Shall ne'er be cloudless more.
poem by Louisa Stuart Costello
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Song.—When others saw thee
When others saw thee gay and vain,
And saw my weakness too,—
A willing captive in thy chain,
Nor doubt nor care I knew.
When others saw thy faults too well,
And bade my heart beware,
I linger'd in thy beauty's spell,
And found no danger there.
Even when I saw how false and cold
Thou couldst to others be,
My trusting heart would not be told
Thou wert untrue to me.
Like one whom lovely fruits allure
To death and misery*,
I find my fate admits no cure,
And know the truth—to die!
poem by Louisa Stuart Costello
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Song.—If those dark eyes
If those dark eyes have gazed on me,
Unconscious of their power—
The glance in secret ecstasy
I've treasured many an hour.
If that soft voice, a single word
Has breathed for me to hear,
Like Heaven's entrancing airs, the chord
Resounded on my ear.
And yet, alas! too well I knew
That love—or hope—was vain,
The fountain whence delight I drew
Would end in yielding pain!
My folly and my peace at once
A moment could destroy;
It bade me every wish renounce,
And broke my dream of joy
poem by Louisa Stuart Costello
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Song.—Thy form was fair
Thy form was fair, thine eye was bright,
Thy voice was melody;
Around thee beam'd the purest light
Of love's own sky.
Each word that trembled on thy tongue
Was sweet, was dear to me;
A spell in those soft numbers hung
That drew my soul to thee.
Thy form, thy voice, thine eyes are now
As beauteous and as fair;
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poem by Louisa Stuart Costello
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Miranda's Song
Ye elves! when spangled starlight gleams,
That flit beneath the ray,
Till morning darts her magic beams
And pale night hies away:
Ye know where springs each flow'ret rare,
The sweetest seek for me:
I'll weave a chaplet rich and fair—
My father! 'tis for thee!
The flow'rs, the trees, the birds appear
To wait but on my call;
But he whose power has plac'd them here
Is dearer far than all:
My thoughts with tender pleasure rest
On each delight I see;
But all the love that swells in my breast,
My father, is for thee!
poem by Louisa Stuart Costello
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Lines.—If we should ever meet again
If we should ever meet again
When many tedious years are past;
When time shall have unbound the chain,
And this sad heart is free at last;—
Then shall we meet and look unmov'd,
As though we ne'er had met—had lov'd!
And I shall mark without a tear
How cold and calm thy alter'd brow;
I shall forget thou once wert dear,
Rememb'ring but thy broken vow!
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poem by Louisa Stuart Costello
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Song.—Since thou wilt banish me
Since thou wilt banish me,
A long and last adieu!
This heart shall cherish thee,
Though ne'er those hopes renew
That once thy kindness bade me know,
And now thy falsehood turns to woe.
Since all the joy I've known,
And all the vows you made,
For ever now are flown,
As transient as a shade;
Oh! may thy fate as happy be
As that which seemed to shine on me.
Too fondly I relied,
Too easily believed;
Forgot how men have sigh'd,
And women have deceived—
I thought the world from falsehood free;
But, least of all, I doubted thee!
poem by Louisa Stuart Costello
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Spanish Song
Nay, Inez, no more persuade;
Those are sounds that to glory should move:
Ah! ne'er for a warrior made
Were the garlands thy fondness wove.
Wake!—arouse! 'tis the battle's roar;
'Tis its light'ning afar I see!
I return with life no more,
Or, my country, thou shalt be free!
Yet, Inez, in other lands,
When around war's banners shall stream;
When rush forth our conquering bands
All radiant with bravery's beam:
Yes—then, midst the battle's roar,
I can still spare one thought for thee;
But we meet again no more,
Till, my country, thou shalt be free!
poem by Louisa Stuart Costello
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Song for a German Air
Fair stream of the mountain, brightly flowing
Between thy fresh margins, gay with flowers,
Life's uncertain visions showing;
Thus, like thy waters glide past the hours.
Oft on thy sunny banks I lie
And mark the waves that glitter by
With fleeting joy and brightness glowing.
Fair stream! when no more near thee reclining,
I gaze and lament for moments gone—
Cold and silent, past repining—
Still thy clear way thou wilt murmur on:
Still will thy roses bloom anew,
Though I no more their beauty view,
And yonder sun as bright be shining!
poem by Louisa Stuart Costello
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