Sing To Me, Gondolier!

Sing to me, Gondolier! Sing words from Tasso’s lay; While blue, and still, and clear, Night seems but softer day. The gale is gently falling, As if it paused to hear Some strain the past recalling-- Sing to me, Gondolier!

“Oh, ask me not to wake The memory of the brave; Bid no high numbers break The silence of the wave. Gone are the noble-hearted, Closed the bright pageants here; And the glad song is departed From the mournful Gondolier!”

LOOK ON ME THUS NO MORE.

It is thy pity makes me weep, My soul was strong before; Silent, yet strong its griefs to keep From vainly gushing o’er. Turn from me, turn those gentle eyes! In this fond gaze my spirit dies: Look on me thus no more!

Too late that softness comes to bless, My heart’s glad life is o’er; It will but break with tenderness, Which cannot now restore! The lyre-strings have been jarr’d too long, Winter hath touch’d the source of song! Look on me thus no more!

O’ER THE FAR BLUE MOUNTAINS.

O’er the far blue mountains, O’er the white sea-foam, Come, thou long-parted one! Back to thine home.

When the bright fire shineth, Sad looks thy place, While the true heart pineth Missing thy face.

Music is sorrowful Since thou art gone; Sisters are mourning thee-- Come to thine own!

Hark! the home-voices call Back to thy rest; Come to thy father’s hall, Thy mother’s breast!

O’er the far blue mountains, O’er the white sea-foam, Come, thou long-parted one! Back to thine home.