The Portland Gazette

POETRY.

LOVE AND HOPE.

Swiss Air.

BY THOMAS MOORE.

At morn, beside yon summer sea,
Young Hope and Love reclin'd,
But scarce had noontide come when he
into his barge leap'd smilingly,
And left poor Hope behind—
And left poor Hope behind.

I go, said Love, to sail awhile
Across the sunny main;
And then so sweet his parting smile,
That Hope, who never dream'd of guile,
Believ'd he'd come again—
Believ'd he'd come again.

She linger'd there till evening's beam
Along the waters lay;
And o'er the sands, in thoughtful dream,
Oft trac'd his name, which still the stream
As often wash'd away
As often wash'd away.

At length a sail appears in sight,
And tow'rd the Maiden moves;
'Tis Wealth that comes, and gay and bright
His golden barge reflects the light—
But ah! it is not Love's—
But ah! it is not Love's.

Another sail—'twas Friendship show'd
Her night lamp o'er the sea;
And calm the light that lamp bestow'd:
But Love had lights that warmer glow'd—
And where alas! was he?
And where alas! was he?

Now fast, around the sea and shore,
Night threw her darkling chain;
The sunny sails were seen no more:
Hope's morning dreams of Love were o'er;
Love never came again—
Love never came again.