FAIREST! PUT ON AWHILE.

By Thomas Moore

Fairest! put on awhile

These pinions of light I bring thee,

And o'er thy own green isle

In fancy let me wing thee.

Never did Ariel's plume,

At golden sunset hover

O'er scenes so full of bloom,

As I shall waft thee over.

Fields, where the Spring delays

And fearlessly meets the ardor

Of the warm Summer's gaze,

With only her tears to guard her.

Rocks, thro’ myrtle boughs

In grace majestic frowning;

Like some bold warrior's brows

That Love hath just been crowning.

Islets, so freshly fair,

That never hath bird come nigh them,

But from his course thro’ air

He hath been won down by them;—

Types, sweet maid, of thee,

Whose look, whose blush inviting,

Never did Love yet see

From Heaven, without alighting.

Lakes, where the pearl lies hid,

And caves, where the gem is sleeping,

Bright as the tears thy lid

Lets fall in lonely weeping.

Glens,where Ocean comes,

To‘ scape the wild wind's rancor,

And harbors, worthiest homes

Where Freedom's fleet can anchor.

Then, if, while scenes so grand,

So beautiful, shine before thee,

Pride for thy own dear land

Should haply be stealing o'er thee,

Oh, let grief come first,

O'er pride itself victorious —

Thinking how man hath curst

What Heaven had made so glorious!