She sings the wild song of her dear native plains, He had lived for his love, for his country he died, Oh! make her a grave where the sunbeams rest, [west, FAREWELL! BUT, WHENEVER YOU WELCOME THE HOUR. And still on that evening, when pleasure fills up Let Fate do her worst, there are relics of joy, Which come, in the nighttime of sorrow and care, And bring back the features that joy used to wear. Long, long be my heart with such memories fill'd! Like the vase in which roses have once been distill'd; You may break, you may ruin the vase if you will, But the scent of the roses will hang round it still. I'D MOURN THE HOPES. I'D mourn the hopes that leave me, With heart so warm and eyes so bright, That smile turns them all to light! "Tis not in fate to harm me, While fate leaves thy love to me; "Tis not in joy to charm me, Unless joy be shared with thee. Were worth a long, an endless year Of waking bliss without thee, And, though the hope be gone, love, He feels a while benighted, And looks around in fear and doubt. But soon, the prospect clearing, As that light which Heaven sheds! IN THE MORNING OF LIFE. In the morning of life, when its cares are unknown, And its pleasures in all their new lustre begin, When we live in a bright beaming world of our own, And the light that surrounds us is all from within: Oh, it is not, believe me, in that happy time We can love as in hours of less transport we may: Of our smiles, of our hopes, 'tis the gay sunny prime, But affection is warmest when these fade away. When we see the first glory of youth pass us by, Like a leaf on the stream that will never return; When our cup, which had sparkled with pleasure so high, First tastes of the other, the dark-flowing urn; Then, then is the moment affection can sway With a depth and a tenderness joy never knew; Love nursed among pleasures is faithless as they, But the love born of sorrow, like sorrow, is true! In climes full of sunshine, though splendid their dyes, WHEN COLD IN THE EARTH. WHEN cold in the earth lies the friend thou hast loved, Be his faults and his follies forgot by thee then; Or if from their slumber the veil be removed, Weep o'er them in silence, and close it again. And oh! if 'tis pain to remember how far [roam, From the pathways of light he was tempted to Be it bliss to remember that thou wert the star That arose on his darkness and guided him home. From thee and thy innocent beauty first came The revealings that taught him true love to adore, To feel the bright presence, and turn him with shame From the idols he blindly had knelt to before. O'er the waves of a life long benighted and wild, Thou camest, like a soft golden calm o'er the sea; And if happiness purely and glowingly smiled On his evening horizon, the light was from thee. And though sometimes the shade of past foliy would rise, And though falsehood again would allure him to stay, He but turn'd to the glory that dwelt in those eyes, He but flew to that smile, and rekindled it there. THEE, THEE, ONLY THEE. THE dawning of morn, the daylight's sinking, When friends are met, and goblets crown'd, My soul, like some dark spot, is haunted Whatever in fame's high path could waken For thee, thee, only thee. Like shores, by which some headlong bark I have not a joy but of thy bringing, Like spells that naught on earth can break, THOSE EVENING BELLS. THOSE evening bells! those evening bells! Those joyous hours are past away! |