Fair Ines
O saw ye not fair Ines? She’s gone into the West,
To dazzle when the sun is down, And rob the world of rest:
She took our daylight with her, The smiles that we love best,
With morning blushes on her cheek, And pearls upon her breast.
O turn again, fair Ines, Before the fall of night,
For fear the Moon should shine alone, And stars unrivall’d bright;
And blessàd will the lover be That walks beneath their light,
And breathes the love against thy cheek I dare not even write!
Would I had been, fair Ines, That gallant cavalier,
Who rode so gaily by thy side, And whisper’d thee so near!
Were there no bonny dames at home, Or no true lovers here,
That he should cross the seas to win The dearest of the dear?
I saw thee, lovely Ines, Descend along the shore,
With bands of noble gentlemen, And banners waved before;
And gentle youth and maidens gay, And snowy plumes they wore:
It would have been a beauteous dream,— If it had been no more!
Alas, alas! fair Ines, She went away with song,
With Music waiting on her steps, And shoutings of the throng;
But some were sad, and felt no mirth, But only Music’s wrong,
In sounds that sang Farewell, farewell, To her you’ve loved so long.
Farewell, farewell, fair Ines! That vessel never
So fair a lady on its deck, Nor danced so light before,—Alas for pleasure on the sea, And sorrow on the shore!
The smile that bless’d one lover’s heart Has broken many more!
Thomas Hood
Other author posts
Lear
A poor old king, with sorrow for my crown, Throned upon straw, and mantled with the wind— For pity, my own tears have made me blind That I might never see my children's frown; And, may be, madness, like a friend, has thrown A folded fill...
The Dream Fairy
A little fairy comes at night, Her eyes are blue, her hair is brown’with silver spots upon her wings, And from the moon she flutters down She has a little silver wand,
To A False Friend
Our hands have met, but not our hearts; Our hands will never meet again Friends, if we have ever been, Friends we cannot now remain:
The Key A Moorish Romance
On the east coast, towards Tunis, the Moors still preserve the key of their ancestors' houses in Spain; to which country they still express the hopes of one day returning and again planting the crescent on the ancient walls of the Alhambra<b...