I ne'er could any lustre see In eyes that would not look on me; I ne'er saw nectar on a lip But where my own did hope to sip.
Such night in England ne'er had been, nor ne'er again shall be.
Ah, fool! faint heart fair lady ne'er could win.
Alas! the praise given to the ear
Ne'er was nor ne'er can be sincere.
Fro and to in my dreams to you To the haunting tune of the harp For the price I paid when you died that day I paid that day with my heart Fro and to in my dreams to you With the breaking of my heart Ne'er more again will I sing this song Ne'er more will I hear the harp.
Who ne'er his bread in sorrow ate, Who ne'er the mournful midnight hours Weeping upon his bed has sate, He knows you not, ye Heavenly Powers.
Wouldst thou wisely, and with pleasure,
Pass the days of life's short measure,
From the slow one counsel take,
But a tool of him ne'er make;
Ne'er as friend the swift one know,
Nor the constant one as foe.
Ne'er to meet, or ne'er to part, is peace.
Tis strange the miser should his cares employTo gain those riches he can ne'er enjoy;Is it less strange the prodigal should wasteHis wealth to purchase what he ne'er can taste?
Faint heart ne'er won fair lady.
And let us mind, faint heart ne'er wan A lady fair.
In prayer the lips ne'er act the winning part, Without the sweet concurrence of the heart.
But there are wanderers o'er Eternity Whose bark drives on and on, and anchor'd ne'er shall be.
Whose wit in the combat, as gentle as bright, Ne'er carried a heart-stain away on its blade.
I ne'er could any luster see in eyes that would not look on me.
And let us mind, faint heart ne'er wan A lady fair. Wha does the utmost that he can Will whyles do mair.