Serenade

Sweet Lady bright—Lenore! Lenore! Oh! list to thy lover’s lay, Whilst the moonbeams shine o’er the forest boughs As rich as the glow of day!

Oh! Lady fair—Lenore! Lenore! My deep love to thee I’ll tell, For the secret founts of my heart o’erflow Unlocked by the moonbeam’s spell!

Oh! Lady kind—Lenore! Lenore! Let my soul’s impassioned tale, With a heart so gentle and pure as thine, In its truthfulness prevail.

Oh! Lady dear—Lenore! Lenore! I have loved thee deep and long, And I love thee now, and for evermore,— Give ear to my pleading song!

Oh! Lady true—Lenore! Lenore! Like yon constant stars above, Or the changeless light of the sun’s glad beam, To thee is my fervent love.

Oh! Lady mine—Lenore! Lenore! Would that I might call thee so, In the faithful vow of united love, Ere I to the wild wars go.

Oh! Lady love—Lenore! Lenore! Might I have the rich delight, To believe in thy dreams thou’lt think on me? Sweet Lady—good night! good night!

The last “good night” rang sweetly on the air When, from the casement of a turret high, A white hand peeped, as beautiful and fair As ever cloudlet on the radiant sky; And to that love-song gave a sweet reply By letting fall a flower—a flower which told Of love’s sublime delicious witchery Within the heart. Hid in his scarf’s gay fold That boon to the wars he bore, more daring brave and bold.

The last rich scion of an ancient line Was fair Lenore; a lonely orphan, she Dwelt in that Castle by the rushing Rhine In days of tournament and chivalry: A creature fitted to inspire the free And noble passion of a truthful breast And brave bold heart, whose inbred courtesy And gentler feelings, would seek out a rest, Mid valour’s peaceful pause, in woman’s love possessed.

Oh! she was beautiful! a thing of light Of life, of gladness and unsullied smiles; A glorious being fitted to delight By gentle manners, innocent sweet wiles, And gay allurement, that full oft beguiles The heart of sadness with its soothing power; Like sunbeams striking on the ocean isles, And dissipating mists that on them lour, Till all shine fair and bright in noon’s resplendent hour.

Thus had her goodness won the noble heart Of brave Fidelio, whose princely halls, Broad spreading vineyards, forest lands apart, And mountain-holds, stood nigh the blue Rhine-falls; Whose gliding waters pass the lordly walls Of many a lofty castle, held by knights Of power and state, but none there is who calls More wealth his own, inherited by right, Possessed in honour true, maintained by valour’s might.

Whilst her heart’s lord, mid Palestine afar, In dauntless combat fought the Saracen, To drive him from the land, where first a star Revealed the Saviour to the sons of men, And give its sacred shrines and sites again To be a gladness to the pilgrims’ heart; The fair Lenore, with absent lovers’ pain, Sat all secluded in her bower apart, And wrought rich tapestry bright, and handyworks of art.

Two years had fled since that auspicious night, When music taught how deep the love she felt, And bade her heart, with exquisite delight Towards him who wooed her, tenderly to melt In one brief moment; whilst she swiftly spelt An unknown lesson from her burning breast And prized the lore it gave; a truth which gilt With sunset brightness all her thoughts, and blest Her hours with musings sweet, her heart with richest rest.

But now her days were mingled with deep care, And oft with agony and doubtful fear, For of her true knight there no tidings were, And as she thought thereon, the sparkling tear Would drop from her blue eye, so bright and clear, And sorrow’s sadness heave her breast in sighs. Intense she watched, but never there drew near His stalwart form to glad her longing eyes. Hark to yon minstrel’s notes that waken her surprise!—