Glen Collection of printed music > Printed text > Harp of Renfrewshire

Who — as the beautiful pageant sweeps by,
Music around her, and sunshine on high —
Pauses to think, amid glitter and glow,
O, there be hearts that are breaking, below !
Night on the waves ! — and the moon is on high,
Hung, like a gem, on the brow of the sky ;
Treading its depths, in the power of her might,
And turning the clouds as they pass her, to light !
Look to the waters ! — asleep on their breast,
Seems not the sliij) like an island of rest ?
Bright and alone on the shadowy main,
Like a heart-cherished home on some desolate plain !
Who — as she smiles in the silvery light,
Spreading her wings on the bosom of night.
Alone on the deep, as the moon in the sky, —
A phantom of beauty ! — could deem, with a sigh,
That so lovely a place is the mansion of sin.
And souls that are smitten lie bursting within !
Who — as he watches her silently gliding —
Remembers that wave after wave is dividing
Bosoms that sorrow and guilt could not sever,
Hearts that are parted and broken for ever !
Or deems that he watches, afloat on the wave,
The death-bed of hope, or the young spirit's grave !
'Tis thus with our life, while it passes along,
Like a vessel at sea, amid sunshine and song !
Gayly we glide, in the gaze of the world,
With streamers afloat, and with canvas unfurled ;
All gladness and glory to wandering eyes,
Yet chartered by sorrow, and freiglited with sighs ! —
Fading and false is the aspect it wears.
As the smiles we put on — just to cover our tears;
And the withering thoughts which the world cannot know,
Like broken-hearted exiles, lie burning below ;
While the vessel drives on to that desolate shore
Where the dreams of our childhood are vanished and o'er!