BEWARE! I KNOW a maiden fair to see: Take care! She can both false and friendly be: Beware! Beware! Trust her not; She is fooling thee! She has two eyes, so soft and brown: She gives a side-glance and looks down: Trust her not; She is fooling thee! And she has hair of a golden hue: And what she says it is not true: Beware! Beware! Trust her not; She is fooling thee! She has a bosom as white as snow: She knows how much it is best to show: Beware! Beware! Trust her not; She is fooling thee! SONG. She gives thee a garland woven fair: It is a fool's-cap for thee to wear: Trust her not; She is fooling thee! ANONYMOUS. (German.) Translation of HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. SONG. WHY SO pale and wan, fond lover? Prithee, why so pale? Will, when looking well can't move her, Looking ill prevail? Prithee, why so pale? Why so dull and mute, young sinner? Prithee, why so mute? Will, when speaking well can't win her, Saying nothing do't? Prithee, why so mute? Quit, quit, for shame! this will not move, This cannot take her; If of herself she will not love, Nothing can make her: The Devil take her! SIR JOHN SUCKLING. LEFT BEHIND. It was the autumn of the year ; You told me of your toilsome past: But lifted you away from me, You did not see the bitter trace LEFT BEHIND. You thought of triumphs still unwon, You walk the sunny side of fate; The wise world smiles, and calls you great ; The golden fruitage of success Drops at your feet in plenteousness; And you have blessings manifold: Renown and power, and friends and gold; Your life's proud aim, your art's high truth, I used to dream, in all these years TAKE, O TAKE, THOSE LIPS AWAY. That Love's strong hand would put aside Would reach the pathless darkness through, But that is past. If you should stray Beside my grave, some future day, "She loved you better than you knew." FLORENCE PERCY. TAKE, O TAKE, THOSE LIPS AWAY. TAKE, O take, those lips away, That so sweetly were forsworn! And those eyes, like break of day, Lights that do mislead the morn! But my kisses bring again: Seals of love, though sealed in vain. Hide, O hide, those hills of snow, SHAKSPEARE, AND JOHN FLetcher. |