Songs
After Victor Hugo, Armand Silvestre, Charles Rousseau and the Vicomte de Borelli
DARLING ARISE.
(AFTER VICTOR HUGO.)
Pretty one, tho’ the morning is breaking
Thy lattice is fasten’d close
How is it that thou art not waking
When awake is the rose?
Darling, arise! for I am he
Thy lover who sighs and sings to thee,
Thy lover who sighs and sings to thee.
Nature loud at thy lattice is beating:
I am Day says the morning above
I am music the bird sings repeating,
And my heart cries “I am Love.”
Darling, arise! for I am he,
Thy lover who sighs and sings to thee,
Thy lover who sighs and sings to thee.
Rose.
(VIELLE CHANSON DU JEUNE TEMPS.)
(AFTER VICTOR HUGO.)
I never thought at all of Rose,
As Rose and I went through the dell,
We fell a talking I suppose,
But yet of what I cannot tell.
Pebbles below and mosses over,
Rippled a cool and limpid rill;
Nature lay sleeping like a lover
In the embrace of the woods so still.
Shoes and stockings off she slipped,
And with her sweetly innocent air
Into the stream her feet she dipped,
Yet I never saw her feet were bare.
I only talked, the time beguiling
As we wandered, she and I;
And sometimes I saw her smiling,
But now and then I heard her sigh.
Only her beauty dawned on me
When silent woods were left behind,
“Never mind that now!” said she
And now I shall always mind.
Regrets.
(AFTER CHARLES ROUSSEAU.)
Let me cherish in my sadness
Those fair days of youth and gladness!
Moments of delightful madness
Gone, alas, for evermore!
Vain regrets for misspent powers,
Wasted chances, faded flowers,
Vex my lonely spirit sore.
Had I only known before!
Let me cherish in my sadness
Those fair days of youth and gladness!
Moments of delightful madness
Gone, alas, for evermore!
TOO LATE.
(PEINE D’AMOUR.)
(AFTER ARMAND SILVESTRE.)
When your hand was laid upon mine
’Twas in painful dread that I grasped it,
For some hesitation malign,
Made tremble the fingers that clasped it.
When you turned your forehead so near,
’Twas in painful dread that I kissed it,
For some cruel prompting of fear
Made me timidly seek to resist it.
Ah!—and my life thenceforward approved
Sorrow’s bitterness had o’ercome me,
I only knew how I loved
The day that had taken you from me.
IF THERE BE A GARDEN GAY.
(S’IL EST UN CHARMANT GAZON.)
(AFTER VICTOR HUGO.)
If there be a garden gay
Man has not molested,
Where blaze through the summer day
Flowers golden crested,
Where tallest lilies grow,
And honeysuckles blow
There, oh there I fain would go
Where thy foot, thy foot has rested!
If there be a rosy dream
By true love invested,
Where all things delightful seem
Close together nested
Where soul to soul may tell
The joy they know so well
’Tis there, oh there I fain would dwell
Where thy heart, thy heart has rested.
THE MESSAGE OF THE ROSES.
(ENVOI DE ROSES.)
(AFTER VICOMTE DE BORELLI.)
Oh, if the fairest of these roses
With its red lips to thee shall tell
Such things as language knows not of,
As in thy bosom it reposes,
Then keep it well
It is my love!
But if the sweetest of the roses
With its red lips shall silent be,
And only seek instead the bliss
Which thy delightful mouth discloses,
Return it me
It is my kiss!