A Serenade.

From afar, in the dead of night,     By the moon's dim, uncertain light,     To salute thee with loving rite,         I come, sweetheart, I come.     Oh! refuse not to hear my lay;     From the depths of my soul I pray.     Let my accents my love betray         To thee, sweetheart, to thee.     As I sing in the shade below,     As the words of my greeting flow,     I am thrilled with the fervent glow         Of love, sweetheart, of love.     I have come from the silent moor,     In the still of the midnight hour;     I have come by my passion's power         For thee, sweetheart, for thee.     Then awake from thy slumbers light;     Ere he speed on his homeward flight,     Bid thy lover a last good-night.         Good-night, sweetheart, good-night!