Šrift:Väiksem АаSuurem Aa
Ben Bolt
Copied by permission of Peters & Sons, Fourth St., Cincinnati O owners of the copyright
Don’t you remember sweet Alice, Ben Bolt?
Sweet Alice, with hair so brown,
Who blush’d with delight if you gave her a smile,
And trembled with fear at your frown?
In the old church-yard in the valley, Ben Bolt,
In a corner obscure and lone,
They have fitted a slab of granite so gray,
And Alice lies under the stone.
Under the hickory tree, Ben Bolt,
That stood at the foot of the hill,
Together we’ve lain in the noonday shade,
And listen’d to Appleton’s mill.
The mill-wheel has fallen to pieces, Ben Bolt,
The rafters have tumbled in,
And a quiet that crawls round the wall as you gaze,
Takes the place of the olden din.
Do you mind the cabin of logs, Ben Bolt,
That stood in the pathless wood?
And the button-ball tree with its motley boughs,
That nigh by the door-step stood?
The cabin to ruin has gone, Ben Bolt,
You would look for the tree in vain;
And where once the lords of the forest stood,
Grows grass and the golden grain.
And don’t you remember the school, Ben Bolt,
And the master, so cruel and grim?
And the shady nook in the running brook,
Where the children went to swim?
Grass grows on the master’s grave, Ben Bolt —
The spring of the brook is dry;
And of all the boys who were school-mates then
There are only you and I!
There’s a change in the things I love, Ben Bolt?
They have changed from the old to the new;
But I feel in the core of my spirit the truth,
There never was a change in you.
Twelvemonths twenty have pass’d, Ben Bolt,
Since first we were friends, yet I hail
Thy presence a blessing, thy friendship a truth,
Ben Bolt of the salt-sea gale!
Poor Juney
Copied by permission of Russell & Tolman, 291 Washington St., Boston, owners of the copyright
Pearl River’s side is far away, in Mississippi State,
Where our Old Cabin stands alone, with Juney at the gate;
I told her I was going away, but would not stay out late,
And so she thought I’d soon be home, and waited at the gate.
CHORUS
The Cabin stands upon the stream in Mississippi State,
And I must quickly hurry home and take her from the gate.
Old Massa died, and I was sold away to Georgia’s State,
They did not buy my sister Jane when they bought me her mate,
I could not tell her we must part, alas! our cruel fate,
And so, with weeping eyes, she stands to meet me at the gate.
The Cabin stands upon the stream, &c
I can’t forget her gloomy look, when I bid her good-night,
Nor how my body quaked and shook as slow I left her sight;
But soon I’ll gold and silver get, pray Heaven I’m not too late,
To buy my darling Juney free and take her from the gate.
The Cabin stands upon the stream, &c
Oh, Juney was a simple child, with pretty shining curls,
And white folks loved her best of all, the young Mulatto girl,
’Twas wrong for me to leave her ’lone, in Mississippi State,
But money it shall break the chain that binds her to the gate.
The Cabin stands upon the stream, &c
If you go away down South, to Mississippi State,
Don’t fail to seek our Cabin there, with Juney at the gate;
Tell her to wait a little while, tell her in hope to wait,
For I am he shall make her free, and take her from the gate.
The Cabin stands upon the stream, &c
The Little Blacksmith
We heard his hammer all day long
On the anvil ring, and ring,
But he always came when the sun went down,
To sit on the gate and sing;
His little hands so hard and brown
Cross’d idly on his knee,
And straw-hat lopping over cheeks
As red as they could be.
Chorus.– The hammer’s stroke on the anvil, fill’d
His heart with a happy ring,
And that was why, when the sun went down,
He came to the gate to sing.
His blue and faded jacket, trimm’d
With signs of work, his feet
All bare and fair upon the grass,
He made a picture sweet.
For still his shoes, with iron shod,
On the smithy wall he hung,
As forth he came, when the sun went down,
And sat on the gate and sung.
Chorus.– The hammer’s stroke on the anvil, fill’d, &c
The whistling rustic tending cows,
Would keep in pastures near,
And half the busy villagers
Lean from their doors to hear.
And from the time the robin came
And made the hedges bright,
Until the stubble yellow grew,
He never miss’d a night.
Chorus.– The hammer’s stroke on the anvil, &c
Over the Mountain
Over the mountain wave,
See where they come;
Storm cloud and wintry wind
Welcome them home;
Yet where the sounding gale
Howls to the sea,
There their song peals along
Deep-toned and free.
Chorus.– Pilgrims and wanderers.
Hither we come;
Where the free dare to be,
This is our home.
England hath sunny dales,
Dearly they bloom;
Scotia hath heather hills,
Sweet their perfume;
Yet through the wilderness
Cheerful we stray,
Native land, native land,
Home far away!
Chorus.– Pilgrims and wanderers, &c
Dim grew the forest path,
Onward they trod;
Firm beat their noble hearts,
Trusting in God;
Gray men and blooming maids,
High rose their song,
Hear it sweep clear and deep,
Ever along.
Chorus.– Pilgrims and wanderers, &c
Not theirs the glory wreath
Torn by the blast;
Heavenward their holy steps,
Heavenward they pass’d;
Green be their mossy graves,
Ours be their fame,
While their song peals along
Ever the same.
Chorus.– Pilgrims and wanderers, &c
Row, Row
Row! row! homeward we steer,
Twilight falls o’er us,
Hark! hark! music is near,
Friends glide before us,
Song lightens our labor,
Sing as onward we go,
Keep each with his neighbor
Time as we flow.
Chorus.– Row! row! homeward we go,
Twilight falls o’er us,
Row! row! sing as we flow,
Day flies before us.
Row! row! sing as we go,
Nature rejoices;
Hark! how the hills as we flow
Echo our voices;
Still o’er the dark waters
Far away we must roam,
Ere Italy’s daughters
Welcome us home.
Chorus.– Row! row, &c
Row! row! see in the west
Lights dimly burning,
Friends in yon harbor of rest
Wait our returning;
See now they burn clearer, —
Keep time with the oar;
Now, now we are nearer
That happy shore.
Chorus.– Row! row, &c
Home, home, daylight is o’er,
Friends stand before us;
Yet ere our boat touch the shore,
Once more the chorus.
Chorus.– Row! row, &c
The Miller of the Dee
There dwelt a miller hale and bold
Beside the river Dee;
He work’d and sang from morn till night,
No lark more blithe than he;
And this, the burden of his song,
Forever used to be,
“I envy nobody, no, not I,
And nobody envies me.”
“Thou’rt wrong my friend,” said old King Hal,
“Thou’rt wrong as wrong can be;
For could my heart be light as thine,
I’d gladly change with thee;
And tell me now what makes thee sing
With voice so loud and free,
While I am sad, though I am King
Beside the river Dee.”
The miller smiled, and doff’d his cap,
“I earn my bread,” quoth he
“I love my wife, I love my friends,
I love my children three;
I owe no penny I can not pay,
I thank the river Dee,
That turns the mill, that grinds the corn
To feed my babes and me.”
“Good friend,” said Hal, and sigh’d the while,
“Farewell and happy be;
But say no more, if thou’dst be true,
That no one envies thee;
Thy mealy cap is worth my crown,
Thy mill my kingdom’s fee,
Such men as thou are England’s boast,
Oh, miller of the Dee.”
All’s for the Best
All’s for the best! be sanguine and cheerful;
Trouble and sorrow are friends in disguise,
Nothing but folly goes faithless and fearing,
Courage forever! is happy and wise.
All’s for the best! if a man would but know it,
Providence wishes that all may be blest,
This is no dream of the pundit or poet,
Fact is not fancy, and all’s for the best!
Chorus.– All’s for the best! All’s for the best!
Fact is not fancy, and all’s for the best.
All’s for the best: set this on your standard,
Soldier of sadness, or pilgrim of love,
Who to the shores of despair may have wander’d
A way-wearied swallow, or heart-stricken dove.
All’s for the best! be a man, but confiding,
Providence tenderly governs the rest,
And the frail bark of his creature is guiding
Wisely and warily, all’s for the best!
Chorus.– All’s for the best, &c,
All’s for the best dispel idle terrors,
Meet all your fears and your foes in the van,
And in the midst of your dangers and errors,
Trust like a child, and strive like a man.
All’s for the best! unfailing, unbounded,
Providence wishes that all may be blest,
And both by wisdom and mercy surrounded,
Hope and be happy, then all’s for the best!
Chorus.– All’s for the best! All’s for the best!
Hope and be happy, then all’s for the best.
Don’t be Angry Mother
Don’t be angry mother, mother,
Let thy smiles be smiles of joy,
Don’t be angry, mother, mother,
Don’t be angry with thy boy.
Years have flown since we have travers’d
The dark and stormy sea;
Whilst your boy quite broken-heart’d,
Ne’er has ceased to think of thee.
Don’t be angry mother, mother,
Let the world say what it will,
Though I don’t deserve thy favor,
Yet I fondly love thee still;
We have lived and loved together,
And our hearts ne’er knew a pain
But forgive me, mother, mother,
Oh, forgive thy boy again.
Pray, remember, mother, mother,
I’ve been kneeling at thy feet,
And I am dreaming of thee nightly,
While reclining in my sleep;
But forgive me, mother, mother,
It will ease thy heart of pain,
But forgive me, mother, mother,
Oh, forgive thy boy again.
I am not Angry
I am not angry, dearest boy,
No cloud is on my brow,
Thou seest only smiles of joy,
I am not angry now.
A mother’s heart has yearn’d for thee,
A mother’s tears have flown,
A mother’s prayers been offer’d up
To the eternal throne:
And though thou hast been wayward, boy,
Misguided by thy will,
A mother’s love is thine, my boy
Thou art my darling still.
While thou wert on the rolling deep,
Toss’d by the rugged sea,
My only comfort was to weep —
To weep and pray for thee.
Over thy follies I have shed,
Ah! many a bitter tear,
And I have mourn’d for thee as dead
Through all the passing year;
Yet I have pray’d that thou, my son,
Might’st catch my latest breath,
That thy dear hands, and thine alone,
Might close my eyes in death.
I do forgive thee now, my boy,
It frees my heart from pain,
My bosom throbs alone with joy
To see thy face again.
Though thou hast wander’d far from me,
I’ll yet forgive the past,
For I am happy, boy, to see
Thou hast return’d at last.
Yes, now this heart is fill’d with joy,
My sororws are all o’er,
For thou art here again, my boy,
And we shall part no more.