In some, as in a mirror, Love seems portrayed, Love seems portrayed, But shun the flattering error, 'Tis but his shade, 'tis but his shade. Himself has fixt his dwelling In eyes we know, in eyes we know, And lips--but this is telling-- So here they go! so here they go! Fill up, fill up--where'er, boy, Our choice may fall, our choice may fall, We're sure to find Love there, boy, So drink them all! so drink them all!
Forget not the field where they perished, The truest, the last of the brave, All gone--and the bright hope we cherished Gone with them, and quenched in their grave!
Oh! could we from death but recover Those hearts as they bounded before, In the face of high heaven to fight over That combat for freedom once more;--
Could the chain for an instant be riven Which Tyranny flung round us then, No, 'tis not in Man, nor in Heaven, To let Tyranny bind it again!
But 'tis past--and, tho' blazoned in story The name of our Victor may be, Accurst is the march of that glory Which treads o'er the hearts of the free.
Far dearer the grave or the prison, Illumed by one patriot name, Than the trophies of all, who have risen On Liberty's ruins to fame.
They may rail at this life--from the hour I began it, I found it a life full of kindness and bliss; And, until they can show me some happier planet, More social and bright, I'll content me with this. As long as the world has such lips and such eyes, As before me this moment enraptured I see, They may say what they will of their orbs in the skies, But this earth is the planet for you, love, and me.
In Mercury's star, where each moment can bring them New sunshine and wit from the fountain on high, Tho' the nymphs may have livelier poets to sing them, They've none, even there, more enamored than I. And as long as this harp can be wakened to love, And that eye its divine inspiration shall be, They may talk as they will of their Edens above, But this earth is the planet for you, love, and me.
In that star of the west, by whose shadowy splendor, At twilight so often we've roamed thro' the dew, There are maidens, perhaps, who have bosoms as tender, And look, in their twilights, as lovely as you. But tho' they were even more bright than the queen Of that isle they inhabit in heaven's blue sea, As I never those fair young celestials have seen, Why--this earth is the planet for you, love, and me.