Look out, O Love, across the sea: A soft breeze fans the summer night, The low waves murmur lovingly, And lo! the fitful beacon's light. Some day perchance, when I am gone, And muse by far-off tropic seas, You may be gazing here alone, On starlit waves and skies like these. Or perhaps together, you and I, Alone, enwrapt, no others by, Shall watch again that fitful flame, And know that we are not the same. Or maybe we shall come no more, But from some unreturning shore, In dreams shall see that light again, And hear that starlit sea complain.
Three Songs , opus 22
by Clara Kathleen Rogers (1844 - 1931)
1. Look out, O Love  [sung text not yet checked]
Authorship:
- by Lewis Morris (1833 - 1907), "Look out, O Love"
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Researcher for this page: Sharon Krebs [Guest Editor]2. Those eyes  [sung text not yet checked]
Drink to me only with thine eyes, And I will pledge with mine; Or leave a kiss within the cup, And I'll not ask for wine. The thirst that from the soul doth rise Doth ask a drink divine; But might I of Jove's nectar sup, I would not change for thine. I sent thee late a rosy wreath, Not so much honouring thee, As giving it a hope that there It could not withered be. But thou thereon didst only breathe And send'st it back to me: Since when it grows, and smells, I swear Not of itself, but thee.
Authorship:
- by Ben Jonson (1572 - 1637), "Song to Celia"
Based on:
- a text in Greek (Ελληνικά) by Lucius Flavius Philostratus (c170 - c248), quotes from love letters 24, 30 and 31 [text unavailable]
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Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- GER German (Deutsch) [singable] (Bertram Kottmann) , "Lied an Celia", copyright © 2010, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Note: parodied in Archibald Stodart-Walker's Blink to me only with thine eyes.
Researcher for this page: Ted Perry
3. The heath this night must be my bed  [sung text not yet checked]
The heath this night must be my bed, The bracken curtain for my head, My lullaby the warder's tread, Far, far, from love and thee, Mary; To-morrow eve, more stilly laid, My couch may be my bloody plaid, My vesper song, thy wail, sweet maid! It will not waken me, Mary! I may not, dare not, fancy now The grief that clouds thy lovely brow, I dare not think upon thy vow, And all it promised me, Mary. No fond regret must Norman know; When bursts Clan-Alpine on the foe, His heart must be like bended bow, His foot like arrow free, Mary. A time will come with feeling fraught! For, if I fall in battle fought, Thy hapless lover's dying thought Shall be a thought on thee, Mary. And if returned from conquered foes, How blithely will the evening close, How sweet the linnet sing repose, To my young bride and me, Mary!
Authorship:
- by Walter Scott, Sir (1771 - 1832), "Song", appears in The Lady of the Lake, in 3. Canto Third. The Gathering., no. 23, first published 1810
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Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- ITA Italian (Italiano) (Ferdinando Albeggiani) , "Il canto di Norman", copyright © 2010, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Confirmed with The Lady of the Lake. A Poem. By Walter Scott, Esq. The fourth edition. Edinburgh: Printed for John Ballantyne and Co. Edinburgh; and Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme, and Brown, and W. Miller, London. 1810, pages 127-128.
Research team for this page: Emily Ezust [Administrator] , Peter Rastl [Guest Editor]