BALLADS AND SONGS. me!' But the blue eye, half hid, 'I love, and I'm yours if you love me!' I love, and am yours if you love me! dear Fanny! Then tell me, oh! why, In that lovely eye, Not a charm of its tint I discover; The only blue pair That ever said 'No' to a lover? That ever said 'No' to a lover, dear CEASE, OH CEASE TO TEMPT. CEASE, oh cease to tempt It never, never can So wild a flame approve. All its joys and pains To others I resign; But be the vacant heart, The careless bosom mine. Then cease, oh cease to tempt My tender heart to love! It never, never can So wild a flame approve. Say, oh say no more That lovers' pains are sweet! I never, never can Believe the fond deceit. Weeping day and night, Consuming life in sighs,This is the lover's lot, And this I ne'er could prize. Then say, oh say no more That lovers' pains are sweet! I never, never can Believe the fond deceit. Viver en Cadenas. FROM LIFE WITHOUT FROM life without freedom, oh! who would not fly? For one day of freedom, oh! who would not die? Hark!-hark! 'tis the trumpet! the call of the brave, The death-song of tyrants and dirge of the slave. Our country lies bleeding-oh! fly to her aid; One arm that defends is worth hosts that invade. From life without freedom, oh! who would not fly? For one day of freedom, oh! who would not die? Spring may bloom, but she we loved Ne'er shall feel its sweetness! Time, that once so fleetly moved, Now hath lost its fleetness. Years were days, when here she strayed, HOLY BE THE PILGRIM'S SLEEP. HOLY be the Pilgrim's sleep, From the dreams of terror free; And may all, who wake to weep, Rest to-night as sweet as he ! Hark! hark! did I hear a vesper swell! No, no-it is my lovèd Pilgrim's prayer: No, no-'twas but the convent bell, Holy be the Pilgrim's sleep! O Pilgrim! where hast thou been roaming? Dark is the way, and midnight's coming. Stranger, I've been o'er moor and mountain, To tell my beads at Agnes' fountain, And, Pilgrim, say, where art thou going? Dark is the way, the winds are blowing. Weary with wandering, weak, I falter, To breathe my vows at Agnes' altar. Strew, then, oh! strew his bed of rushes; Here he shall rest till morning blushes. Peace to them whose days are done, "Tis time for our reposing. Here, then, my Pilgrim's course is o'er! 'Tis my master! 'tis my master: Welcome here once more; Come to our shed-all toil is over; I SAW THE MOON RISE CLEAR. I SAW the moon rise clear O'er hills and vales of snow, For well my reindeer knew The gloom that winter cast How soon the heart forgets! JOYS THAT PASS AWAY. Joys that pass away like this, Is followed by a tear. The girl whose faithless art And with it break my heart. Once, when truth was in those eyes, For truth, alas! is gone. LOVE AND THE SUN-DIAL. YOUNG Love found a Dial once, in a dark shade, Where man ne'er had wandered nor sunbeam played: 'TIS said-but whether true or not Let bards declare who've seen 'emThat Love and Time have only got One pair of wings between 'em. But short the moments, short as bright, Love takes his turn to-morrow. Ah! Time and Love! your change is then The saddest and most trying, Then is Love's hour to stray; But there's a nymph-whose chains I feel, And bless the silken fetterWho knows-the dear one!-how to deal With Love and Time much better. And Time for ever wears 'em. LOVE, MY MARY, DWELLS LOVE, my Mary, dwells with thee; Love, my Mary, n'er can roam, of LOVE'S LIGHT SUMMER CLOUD. PAIN and sorrow shall vanish before usYouth may wither, but feeling will last; All the shadow that e'er shall fall o'er us, Love's light summer-cloud sweetly shall cast. Oh! if to love thee more Each hour I number o'erIf this a passion be Worthy of thee, Then be happy, for thus I adore thee. Charms may wither, but feeling shall last: All the shadow that e'er shall fall o'er thee, Love's light summer-cloud sweetly shall cast. Rest, dear bosom! no sorrow shall pain thee, Sighs of pleasure alone shalt thou steal; Beam, bright eyelid ! no weeping shall stain thee, Tears of rapture alone shalt thou feel. Oh! if there be a charm In love, to banish harm- Then be happy, for thus I adore thee. way, As the Laird of Salmagundi went The Salmagundians once were rich, For, every year, the Revenue1 From their periwinkles larger grew; 5, 6, 7, 8, and 9 and 10, men ! way, As the Great Panurge in glory went But folks at length began to doubt And see if what we're told be true But, lord, they found there wasn't a tittle Of truth in aught they heard before; For they gained by Periwinkles little, And lost by Locusts ten times more! These Locusts are a lordly breed Some Salmagundians love to feed. Of all the beasts that ever were born, Your Locust most delights in corn; And though his body be but small, To fatten him takes the devil and all! Nor this the worst, for, direr still, Alack, alack, and well-a-day! Their Periwinkles-once the stay And prop of the Salmagundian till— For want of feeding, all fell ill ! And still, as they thinned and died away, The Locusts, ay, and the Locusts' Bill, 'Oh fie! oh fie!' was now the cry, Accented as in Swift's line'Not so a nation's revenues are paid.' |