1. |
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So, we'll go no more a roving
So late into the night,
Though the heart be still as loving,
And the moon be still as bright.
For the sword outwears its sheath,
And the soul wears out the breast,
And the heart must pause to breathe,
And love itself have rest.
Though the night was made for loving,
And the day returns too soon,
Yet we'll go no more a roving
By the light of the moon.
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2. |
The wild gazelle
04:04
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The wild gazelle on Judah's hills,
Exulting yet may bound,
And drink from all the living rills
That gush on holy ground:
Its airy step and glorious eye
May glance in tameless transport by.: --
A step as fleet, an eye more bright,
Hath Judah witness'd there;
And o'er her scenes of lost delight
Inhabitants more fair,
The cedars wave on Lebanon,
But Judah's statelier maids are gone!
More blest each palm that shades those plains
Than Israel's scatter'd race:
For, taking root, it there remains
In solitary grace:
It cannot quit the place of birth,
It will not live in other earth.
But we must wander witheringly,
In other lands to die;
And where our fathers' ashes be,
Our own may never lie:
Our temple hath not left a stone.
And Mockery sits on Salem's throne.
https://lyricstranslate.com
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3. |
She walks in beauty
02:48
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She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that’s best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes;
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o’er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express,
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.
And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!
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4. |
Stanzas for music
03:32
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I speak not -- I trace not -- I breathe not thy name,
There is grief in the sound, there were guilt in the fame;
But the tear which now burns on my cheek may impart
The deep thoughts that dwell in that silence of heart.
Too brief for our passion, too long for our peace,
Were those hours, can their joy or their bitterness cease?
We repent -- we abjure -- we will break from our chain,
We will part -- we will fly -- to unite it again!
Oh! thine be the gladness, and mine be the guilt!
Forgive me adored one -- forsake if thou wilt;
But the heart which I bear shall expire undebased,
And man shall not break it -- whatever thou may'st.
And stern to the haughty, but humble to thee,
My soul, in its bitterest blackness shall be;
And our days seem as swift -- and our moments more sweet
With thee by my side -- than the world at our feet.
One sigh of thy sorrow -- one look of thy love
Shall turn me or fix, shall reward or reprove;
And the heartless may wonder at all we resign,
Thy lip shall reply not to them -- but to mine.
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5. |
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There be none of Beauty's daughters
With a magic like thee;
And like music on the waters
Is thy sweet voice to me:
When, as if its sound were causing
The charmed ocean's pausing,
The waves lie still and gleaming,
And the lull'd winds seem dreaming:
And the midnight moon is weaving
Her bright chain o'er the deep;
Whose breast is gently heaving,
As an infant's asleep:
So the spirit bows before thee,
To listen and adore thee;
With a full but soft emotion,
Like the swell of Summer's ocean.
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6. |
John Keats
00:37
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Who killed John Keats?
"I", says the Quarterly
So savage and Tartarly:
"It was on of my feats"
Who shot the arrow?
"The poet-priest Millman
(So ready to kill man).
Or Southey or Barrow
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