1827.] Midnight. 307 



Lady, art thou to be sought 



By the Christian warrior's fame ? 

 In the land of lands I've fought, 



Through the flood and through the flame ; 

 Stood by lion Richard's side; 



Bore with him the iron shower, 

 Till the sands in blood were dyed. 



Sweet one, 'tis the Lover's Hour ! 



Lady, can thy heart be won 



By the song and by the string ? 

 From the Danube to the Rhone, 



J have played to prince and king ; 

 Raised the lids of many an eye 



Beaming on the Troubadour; 

 Won from queenly lips the sigh. 



Sweet one, 'tis the Lover's Hour ! 



By thy window stands a steed, 



Never nobler felt the rein ; j 

 Never Turkman shot the reed 



Swifter o'er the desert plain : 

 On his brow a bridal band, 



On his back a bridal dower, 

 Waiting for my lady's hand. 



Sweet one, 'tis the Lover's Hour ! 



O'er the hills our way we'll wind, 



Down beside the valley tree, 

 In best true love's chains entwined, 



Still the freest of the free : 

 Free to rove through hill and glen, 



Where no sullen kinsmen lour, 

 What have we to do with men ? 



Sweet one, 'tis the Lover's Hour ! 



What to love on lordly halls, 



Covered with the weeds of care, 

 Where the foot on velvet falls, 



Where* the bosom throbs despair? . 

 What are all the gilded things 



Round the sleepless couch of power, 

 To one wave of Love's white wings? 



Sweet one, 'tis the Lover's Hour ! 



When the storm is on the sky, 



We will scorn it in our dell ; 

 When the tempest-cloud doth fly, 



We will bid it sweet farewell ; 

 Gazing from our mountain-brow, 



As on valley, stream, and bower, 

 Spans the purple-tinted bow. 



Sweet one, 'tis the Lover's Hour HEBMEI. 



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