Lewti, or the Circassian Love-chaunt lyrics

At midnight by the stream I roved,
To forget the form I loved.
Image of Lewti! from my mind
Depart; for Lewti is not kind.
The Moon was high, the moonlight gleam
       &nbspAnd the shadow of a star
Heaved upon Tamaha's stream;
       &nbspBut the rock shone brighter far,
The rock half sheltered from my view
By pendent boughs of tressy yew.—
So shines my Lewti's forehead fair,
Gleaming through her sable hair.
Image of Lewti! from my mind
Depart; for Lewti is not kind.

I saw a cloud of palest hue,
       &nbspOnward to the moon it passed;
Still brighter and more bright it grew,
With floating colours not a few,
       &nbspTill it reached the moon at last:
Then the cloud was wholly bright,
With a rich and amber light!
And so with many a hope I seek,
       &nbspAnd with such joy I find my Lewti;
And even so my pale wan cheek
       &nbspDrinks in as deep a flush of beauty!
Nay, treacherous image! leave my mind,
If Lewti never will be kind.


The little cloud—it floats away
       &nbspAway it goes; away so soon!
Alas! it has no power to stay:
Its hues are dim, its hues are grey—
       &nbspAway it passes from the moon!
How mournfully it seems to fly,
       &nbspEver fading more and more,
To joyless regions of the sky—
       &nbspAnd now 'tis whiter than before!
As white as my poor cheek will be,
       &nbspWhen, Lewti! on my couch I lie,
A dying man for love of thee.
Nay, treacherous image! leave my mind—


And yet, thou didst not look unkind.
I saw a vapour in the sky,
Thin, and white, and very high;
I ne'er beheld so thin a cloud:
       &nbspPerhaps the breezes that can fly
       &nbspNow below and now above,
Have snatched aloft the lawny shroud
       &nbspOf Lady fair—that died for love.
For maids, as well as youths, have perished
From fruitless love too fondly cherished.
Nay, treacherous image! leave my mind—
For Lewti never will be kind.


Hush! my heedless feet from under
       &nbspSlip the crumbling banks for ever:
Like echoes to a distant thunder,
       &nbspThey plunge into the gentle river.
The river-swans have heard my tread.
And startle from their reedy bed.
O beauteous birds! methinks ye measure
       &nbspYour movements to some heavenly tune!
O beauteous birds! 'tis such a pleasure
       &nbspTo see you move beneath the moon,
I would it were your true delight
To sleep by day and wake all night.


I know the place where Lewti lies,
When silent night has closed her eyes:
       &nbspIt is a breezy jasmine-bower,
The nightingale sings o'er her head:
       &nbspVoice of the Night! had I the power
That leafy labyrinth to thread,
And creep, like thee, with soundless tread,
I then might view her bosom white
Heaving lovely to my sight,
As these two swans together heave
On the gently-swelling wave.


Oh! that she saw me in a dream,
       &nbspAnd dreamt that I had died for care;
All pale and wasted I would seem,
       &nbspYet fair withal, as spirits are!
I'd die indeed, if I might see
Her bosom heave, and heave for me!
Soothe, gentle image! soothe my mind!
To-morrow Lewti may be kind.