Thomas Moore ( )

From Irish Melodies. 90. The Fortune-Teller

DOWN in the valley come meet me to-night,
      And Ill tell you your fortune truly
As ever twas told, by the new-moons light,
      To a young maiden, shining as newly.

But, for the world, let no one be nigh,
      Lest haply the stars should deceive me,
Such secrets between you and me and the sky
      Should never go farther, believe me.

If at that hour the heavens be not dim,
      My science shall call up before you
A male apparition  the image of him
      Whose destiny tis to adore you.

And if to that phantom youll be kind,
      So fondly around you hell hover,
Youll hardly, my dear, any difference find
      Twixt him and a true living lover.

Down at your feet, in the pale moonlight,
      Hell kneel, with a warmth of devotion 
An ardour, of which such an innocent sprite
      Youd scarcely believe had a notion.

What other thoughts and events may arise,
      As in destinys book Ive not seen them,
Must only be left to the stars and your eyes
      To settle, ere morning, between them.

Thomas Moore's other poems:
  1. From Irish Melodies. 61. Id Mourn the Hopes
  2. From The Odes of Anacreon. Ode 3
  3. From Irish Melodies. 10. Rich and Rare Were the Gems She Wore
  4. From Irish Melodies. 92. ODonohues Mistress
  5. From The Odes of Anacreon. Ode 68

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