Obrazy na stronie

Then still with bright looks bless Now, had this needle turned its eye The gay, the cold, the free !

To some gay Ridicule's construction, Give smiles to those who love you less, It ne'er had strayed from duty's tie, But keep your tears for me.

Nor felt a magnet's sly seduction. Girls, would you keep tranquil hearts,

Your snowy fingers must be nimble;

The safest shield against the darts
WHEN TWILIGHT DEWS. Of Cupid, is Minerva's thimble.

WHEN twilight dews are falling soft
Upon the rosy sea, love!

OH! SEE THOSE CHERRIES. I watch the star whose beam so oft

Has lighted me to thee, love! Oh! see those cherries,—though once And thou too, on that orb so clear, so głowing, Ah ! dost thou gaze at even,

They've lain too long on the sunAnd think, though lost for ever here, bright wall; Thou'lt yet he mine in heaven? And mark! already their bloom is

going; There's not a garden walk I tread,

Too soon they'll wither, too soon There's not a flower I see, love !

they'll fall. But brings to mind some hope that's fled, Once caught by their blushes, the light

bird flew round, Some joy I've lost with thee, love ! And still I wish that hour was near,

Oft on their ruby lips leaving Love's

wound; When, friends and foes forgiven, The pains, the ills, we've wept through

But now be passes them, all too here,

knowing May turn to smiles in heaven!

To taste withered cherries, when fresh

may be found.

Old Time thus fleetly his course is


If bards were not moral, how maids

would go wrong! Young Jessica sat all the day,

And thus thy beauties, now sunned In love-dreams languishingly pining, and sunning Her needle bright neglected lay,

Would wither if left on the rose-tree Like truant genius idly shining.

too long. Jessy, 'tis in idle hearts

Then Love, while thou’rt lovely, e'en I That love and mischief are most

should be glad nimble;

So sweetly to save thee from ruin so The safest shield against the darts Of Cupid, is Minerva's thimble.

But oh, delay not- -we bards are tog

cunning A child who with a magnet played, To sigh for old beauties, when young

And knew its winning ways so wily,
The magnet near the needle said,
And laughing said, “We'll steal it

The needle, having nought to do,
Was pleased to let the magnet TO-DAY, dearest, is ours;

Why should Love carelessly lose it? Till closer still the tempter drew, This life shines or lours

And off at length eloped the needle. Just as we, weak mortals, use it.

sad ;

may be had.

o'er sea ;

see ;

'Tis time enough, when its flowers HERE, TAKE MY HEART.

decay, To think of the thorns of Sorrow;

HERE, take my heart, 'twill be safe in

thy keeping, And Joy, if left on the stem to-day,

While I go wandering o'er land and May wither before to-morrow. Then why, dearest ! so long

Smiling or sorrowing, waking or sleepLet the sweet moments fly over ?

ing, Though now, blooming and young,

What need I care, so my heart is Thou hast me devoutly thy lover.

with thee? Yet time from both, in his silent lapse, If, in the race we are destined to run, Some treasure may steal or borrow;

love, Thy charms may be less in bloom,

They who have light hearts che perhaps,

happiest beOr I less in love to morrow.

Happier still must be they who have

none, love, And that will be my case when mine


No matter where I may now be a rover,


No matter how many bright eyes I WHEN on the lip the sigh delays, As if ’twould linger there for ever ;

Should Venus' self come and ask me to When eyes would give the world to gaze,

love her, Yet still look down, and venture

I'd tell her I could not-my heart is. never;

with thee ! When, though with fairest nymphs we There let it lie, growing fonder and rove,

fonderThere's one we dream of more than

And should Dame Fortune turn truant anyIf all this is not real love, 'Tis something wondrous like it, Why,- let her go—I've a treasure beFanny !

yond her,

As long as my heart's out at interest To think and ponder, when apart,

with thee! On all we've got to say at meeting; Anil yet when near, with heart to heart,

Sit mute, and listen to their beating : OH! CALL IT BY SOME BETTER To see but one bright object move,

Theonly moon, where stars are many-
If all this is not downright love, Oh! call it by some better name,
I prithee say what is, my Fanny ! For Friendship is too cold,

And love is now worldly flame,
When Hope foretells the brightest, best, Whose shrine must be of gold ;
Though Reason the darkest And passion, like the sun at noon,

That burns o'er all he sees, When Passion drives us to the west, Awhile as warm, will set as soon,Though prudence to the eastward Oh! call it none of these.

beckons ; When all turns round, below, above, Imagine something purer far,

And our own heads the most of any- More free from stain of clay, If this is not stark, staring love, Than Friendship, Love, or Passion are,

Then you and I are sages, Fanny. Yet human still as they :

to me,


And if thy lip for love like this Oh! come and court her hither, No mortal word can frame,

Ye breezes mild and warm-
Go, ask of angels what it is,

One winter's gale would wither
And call it by that name!

So soft, so pure a form.
The fields where she was straying

Are blest with endless light,

With zephyrs always playing POOR WOUNDED HEART! Through gardens always bright

Then, now, oh May! be sweeter
Poor wounded heart !

Than e'er thou'st been before
Poor wounded heart, farewell !

Let sighs from roses meet her
Thy hour is come,

When she comes near our shore.
Thy hour of rest is come ;
Thou soon wilt reach thy home,

Poor wounded heart, farewell !
The pain thou'lt feel in breaking

PALE BROKEN FLOWER! Less bitter far will be, Than that long, deadly course of Pale broken flower ! what art can now aching;

recover thee? This life has been to thee

Torn from the stem that fed thy rosy

breathPoor breaking heart, poor breaking

Iu vain the sunbeams seek
heart, farewell!

To warm that faded cheek!
There- broken heart,

The dews of heaven, that once like balm
Poor broken heart, farewell !

fell over thee,
is o'er-

Now are but tears, to weep thy early
The parting pang is o'er,

death Thou now wilt bleed no more,

So droops the maid whose lover hath Poor broken heart, farewell !

forsaken her; No rest for thee but dying,

Thrown from his arms, as lone and Like waves whose strife is past,

lost as thou; On death's cold shore thus early lying,

In vain the smiles of all
Thou sleep'st in peace at last-

Like sunbeams round her fallPoor broken heart, poor broken heart, The only smile that could from death farewell !

awaken her, That smile, alas ! is gone to others



COME May, with all thy flowers.

Thy sweetly-scented thorn, Thy cooling evening showers,

Thy fragrant breath at morn: When May-flies haunt the willow,

When May-buds tempt the bee,
Then o'er the shining billow

My love will come to me.
From Eastern Isles she's winging

Through watery wilds her way,
And on her cheek is bringing

The bright sun's orient ray ;

THE PRETTY ROSE-TREE. Being weary of love, I flew to the grove,

And chose me a tree of the fairest; Saying: 'Pretty Rose-tree, thou my

mistress shalt be, I'll worship each bud that thou bearest. For the hearts of this world are


And fickle the smiles we follow;
And 'tis sweet, when all their witcheries

To have a pure love to fly to :

So, my pretty Rose-tree, thou my mis- So blithe that even the slumbers tress shalt be,

Which hung around us seem gone, And the only one now I shall sigh to.' Till the lute's soft drowsy numbers When the beautiful hue of thy cheek

Again beguile them on. through the dew

Then, as each to his favourite sultana Of morning is bashfully peeping, In sleep is still breathing the sigh, "Sweet tears,' I shall say (as I brush The name of some black-eyed Tirana them away),

Half breaks from our lips as we lie. * At least there's no art in this weep. Then, with morning's rosy twinkle, ing.'

Again we're up and goneAlthough thou shouldst die to. While the mule-bell's drowsy tinkle morrow,

Beguiles the rough way on. 'Twill not be from pain or sorrow, And the thorns of thy stem are not like

them With which hearts wound each other: TELL HER, OH TELL HER. So, my pretty Rose-tree, thou my mis. Tell her, oh tell her, the lute she left

tress shalt be, And I'll ne'er again sigh to another.

lying Beneath the green arbour, is still

lying there!

Breezes, like lovers, around it are sighSHINE OUT, STARS!

ing, SINE ont, Stars ! let heaven assemble But not a soft whisper replies to their Round us every festal ray,

prayer. Lights that move not, lights that trem- Tell her, oh tell her, the tree that, in ble,

going, All to grace this eve of May.

Beside the green arbour she playfully Let the tiower-beds all lie waking,

set, And the odours shut up there, From their downy prisons breaking,

Lovely as ever is blushing and blowing

And not a bright leatlet has fallen. Fly abroad through sea and air.

from it yet. And would Love, too, bring his sweet. So while away from that arbour for

ness, With our other joys to weave,

sakeu, Oh, what glory, what completeness,

The maiden is wandering, oh! let

her be Then would crown this bright May True as the lute that no sighing can eve!

waken, Shine out, Stars ! let night assemble Round us every festal ray,

And blooming for ever unchanged as

the tree ! Lights that move not, lights that trem

ble, To adorn this eve of May.


Nights of music, nights of loving, THE YOUNG MULETEERS OF Lost too soon, remembered long,

When we went by moonlight roving, GRENADA,

Hearts all love and lips all song.
Oh ! the joys of our evening posada, When this faithful lute recorded

When, resting at close of the day, All my spirit felt to thee,
We, young Muleteers of Grenada, And that smile the song rewarded,

Sit and sing the last sunshine away! Worth whole years of fame to me!

Nights of song and nights of splendour, | To win thy smile, I speed from shore to Filled with joys too sweet to last

shore, Joys that, like your star-light tender, While Hope's sweet voice is heard in

While they shone no shadow cast; every blast, Though all other happy hours

Still whisp’ring on, that, when some From my fading memory fly,

years are o'er, Of that star-light, of those bowers,

One bright reward shall crown my Not a beam, a leaf, shall die !

toil at last,

Thy smile alone, thy smile alone.


Oh! place beside the transport of that

hour Our first young love resembles

All earth can boast of fair, of rich, That short but brilliant ray,

and bright, Which smiles, and weeps, and trembles, Wealth's radiant mines, the lofty thrones Through April's earliest day.

of power, No, no—all life before us;

Then ask where first thy lover's choice Howe'er its lights may play,

would light? Can shed no lustre o'er us

On thee alone, on thee alone.
Like that first April ray.
Our summer sun may squander

A blaze serener, grander,
Our autumn beam may, like a dream

Of heaven, die calm away :
But no-let life before us

SING to Love-for, oh, 'twas he
Bring all the light it may,

Who won the glorions day; 'Twill shed no lustre o'er us

Strew the wreaths of victory
Like that first trembling ray.

Along the conq'ror's way.
Yoke the Muses to his car,

Let them sing each trophy won ;

While his mother's joyous star

Shall light the triumph on.
FOR thee alone I brave the boundless

Hail to Love, to mighty Love, Those eyes my light through ev'ry while the hill, the dale, and grove,

Let spirits sing around ; distant sea ; My waking thoughts, the dream that

With "mighty Love" resound ; gilds my sleep,

Or, should a sigh of sorrow steal The noon-tide rev'rie, all are given to

Amid the sounds thus echoed o'cr, thee,

'Twill but teach the god to feel To thee alone, to thee alone.

His victories the more. Though future scenes present to Fancy's See his wings, like amethyst eye

Of sunny Ind their hue; Fair forms of light that crowd the Bright as when, by Psyche kist, distant air,

They trembled through and through. When nearer viewed, the fairy phantoms Flowers spring beneath his feet ; fly,

Angel forms beside him run; The crowds dissolve, and thou alone While unnumbered lips repeat art there,

“Love's victory is won!" Thou, thou alone,

Hail to Love, to mighty Love, &c.

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