Dost Thou Remember. (Portuguese Air.)
By Thomas Moore
Dost thou remember that place so lonely,
A place for lovers and lovers only,
Where first I told thee all my secret sighs?
When, as the moonbeam that trembled o'er thee
Illumed thy blushes, I knelt before thee,
And read my hope's sweet triumph in those eyes?
Then, then, while closely heart was drawn to heart,
Love bound us--never, never more to part!
And when I called thee by names the dearest[1]
That love could fancy, the fondest, nearest,--
"My life, my only life!" among the rest;
In those sweet accents that still enthral me,
Thou saidst, "Ah!" wherefore thy life thus call me?
"Thy soul, thy soul's the name I love best;
"For life soon passes,--but how blest to be
"That Soul which never, never parts from thee!"