Songs from ‘An Island in The Moon’
Prepare, prepare the iron helm of… Bring forth the lots, cast in the… Th’ Angel of Fate turns them with… And casts them out upon the darken… Prepare, prepare!
JUSTICE hath heaved a sword to plunge in Albion’s breast; for Albion’s sins are crimson dy’d, and the red scourge follows her desolate sons. Then Patriot rose; full oft did Patriot rise...
My silks and fine array, My smiles and languish’d air, By love are driv’n away; And mournful lean Despair Brings me yew to deck my grave:
Sweet dreams form a shade, O’er my lovely infants head. Sweet dreams of pleasant streams, By happy silent moony beams Sweet sleep with soft down.
The sun does arise, And make happy the skies. The merry bells ring To welcome the spring. The skylark and thrush,
“I have no name: I am but two days old.” What shall I call thee? “I happy am, Joy is my name.”
WHEN Old Corruption first begun… Adorn’d in yellow vest, He committed on Flesh a whoredom— O, what a wicked beast! From then a callow babe did spring…
Hear the voice of the Bard! Who Present, Past, and Future, s… Whose ears have heard The Holy Word That walk’d among the ancient tree…
FRESH from the dewy hill, the me… Smiles on my head and mounts his f… Round my young brows the laurel wr… And rising glories beam around my… My feet are wing’d, while o’er the…
‘Nought loves another as itself, Nor venerates another so, Nor is it possible to thought A greater than itself to know. ’And, father, how can I love you
My mother groan’d! my father wept. Into the dangerous world I leapt: Helpless, naked, piping loud, Like a fiend hid in a cloud. Struggling in my father’s hands,
WHEN silver snow decks Sylvio’s… And jewel hangs at shepherd’s nose… We can abide life’s pelting storm, That makes our limbs quake, if our… Whilst Virtue is our walking-staf…
A little black thing among the sno… Crying “weep! 'weep!” in notes of… “Where are thy father and mother?… “They are both gone up to the chur… Because I was happy upon the heat…
WHO is this, that with unerring step dares tempt the wilds, where only Nature’s foot hath trod? ’Tis Contemplation, daughter of the grey Morning! Majestical she steppeth, and with her p...
I was angry with my friend. I told my wrath, my wrath did end. I was angry with my foe. I told it not, my wrath did grow; And I water’d it in fears,