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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 are falling soft
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
running; YOUNG JESSICA.
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,
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.
may be had.
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 Oh! come and court her hither, No mortal word can frame,
Ye breezes mild and warm-
One winter's gale would wither
So soft, so pure a form.
Are blest with endless light,
With zephyrs always playing POOR WOUNDED HEART! Through gardens always bright
Then, now, oh May! be sweeter
Than e'er thou'st been before
Let sighs from roses meet her
When she comes near our shore.
Poor wounded heart, farewell !
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
To warm that faded cheek!
The dews of heaven, that once like balm
fell over thee,
Now are but tears, to weep thy early
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
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
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,
My love will come to me.
Through watery wilds her way,
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;
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
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 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.
When, resting at close of the day, All my spirit felt to thee,
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.
OUR FIRST YOUNG LOVE.
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.
A blaze serener, grander,
SING to Love-for, oh, 'twas he
Who won the glorions day; 'Twill shed no lustre o'er us
Strew the wreaths of victory
Along the conq'ror's way.
Let them sing each trophy won ;
While his mother's joyous star
Shall light the triumph on.
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.