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Then still with bright looks bless
The gay, the cold, the free! Give smiles to those who love you less, But keep your tears for me.
WHEN TWILIGHT DEWS.
WHEN twilight dews are falling soft
I watch the star whose beam so oft
There's not a garden walk I tread,
There's not a flower I see, love! But brings to mind some hope that's fled, Some joy I've lost with thee, love! And still I wish that hour was near, When, friends and foes forgiven, The pains, the ills, we've wept through here,
May turn to smiles in heaven!
YOUNG Jessica sat all the day,
In love-dreams languishingly pining, Her needle bright neglected lay, Like truant genius idly shining. Jessy, 'tis in idle hearts
That love and mischief are most nimble ;
The safest shield against the darts
A child who with a magnet played,
And knew its winning ways so wily, The magnet near the needle laid,
And laughing said, 'We'll steal it slyly.'
The needle, having nought to do,
Was pleased to let the magnet wheedle,
Till closer still the tempter drew,
And off at length eloped the needle.
Now, had this needle turned its eye To some gay Ridicule's construction, It ne'er had strayed from duty's tie,
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 Of Cupid, is Minerva's thimble.
OH! SEE THOSE CHERRIES. OH! see those cherries,-though once so glowing,
They've lain too long on the sunbright wall;
And mark! already their bloom is going;
Too soon they'll wither, too soon they'll fall.
Once caught by their blushes, the light
bird flew round,
Oft on their ruby lips leaving Love's wound;
But now he passes them, all too knowing
To taste withered cherries, when fresh may be found.
Old Time thus fleetly his course is running;
If bards were not moral, how maids would go wrong!
And thus thy beauties, now sunned and sunning.
Would wither if left on the rose-tree too long.
Then Love, while thou'rt lovely, e'en I should be glad
So sweetly to save thee from ruin so
But oh, delay not-we bards are too cunning
To sigh for old beauties, when young may be had.
TO-DAY, DEAREST! IS OURS. To-DAY, dearest, is ours;
Why should Love carelessly lose it? This life shines or lours
Just as we, weak mortals, use it.
o'er sea ;
'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
is with thee? WHEN ON THE LIP THE SIGH DELAYS.
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 !
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,
And love is now worldly flame,
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 :
And if thy lip for love like this No mortal word can frame, Go, ask of angels what it is, And call it by that name!
POOR WOUNDED HEART!
Poor wounded heart, farewell!
Thy hour of rest is come;
Thou soon wilt reach thy home,
Than that long, deadly course of
This life has been to theePoor breaking heart, poor breaking heart, farewell!
Poor broken heart, farewell!
The parting pang is o'er,
Thou now wilt bleed no more, Poor broken heart, farewell! No rest for thee but dying,
Like waves whose strife is past, On death's cold shore thus early lying, Thou sleep'st in peace at lastPoor broken heart, poor broken heart,
THE EAST INDIAN. 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
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 .
Nights of song and nights of splendour, | To win thy smile, I speed from shore to
Filled with joys too sweet to lastJoys that, like your star-light tender, While they shone no shadow cast; Though all other happy hours
From my fading memory fly,
OUR FIRST YOUNG LOVE.
OUR first young love resembles
That short but brilliant ray, Which smiles, and weeps, and trembles, Through April's earliest day. No, no-all life before us; Howe'er its lights may play, Can shed no lustre o'er us Like that first April ray.
Our summer sun may squander
A blaze serener, grander,
Our autumn beam may, like a dream
Bring all the light it may,
While Hope's sweet voice is heard in every blast,
Still whisp'ring on, that, when some years are o'er,
One bright reward shall crown my toil at last,
Thy smile alone, thy smile alone.
Oh! place beside the transport of that hour
All earth can boast of fair, of rich, and bright,
Wealth's radiant mines, the lofty thrones of power,
Then ask where first thy lover's choice would light?
On thee alone, on thee alone.
SING to Love-for, oh, 'twas he
Who won the glorious day; Strew the wreaths of victory
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.
Hail to Love, to mighty Love,
While the hill, the dale, and grove,
His victories the more.
See his wings, like amethyst
Of sunny Ind their hue; Bright as when, by Psyche kist, They trembled through and through. Flowers spring beneath his feet;
Angel forms beside him run; While unnumbered lips repeat "Love's victory is won!"
Hail to Love, to mighty Love, &c.