WHEN THROUGH THE PIAZETTA

[VENETIAN AIR.]

WHEN through the Piazetta

Night breathes her cool air,

Then, dearest Ninetta,

I'll come to thee there.
Beneath thy mask shrouded,
I'll know thee afar,

As Love knows, though clouded,
His own Evening Star.

In garb, then, resembling
Some gay gondolier,
I'll whisper thee, trembling,

"Our bark, love is near;
Now, now, while there hover

Those clouds o'er the moon,
T will waft thee safe over

Yon silent Lagoon."

WHEN ABROAD IN THE WORLD.

WHEN abroad in the world thou appearest,
And the young and the lovely are there,
To my heart while of all thou 'rt the dearest,
To my eyes thou 'rt of all the most fair.
They pass one by one,

Like waves of the sea,

That say to the Sun,

66 See, how fair we can be." But where's the light like thine,

In sun or shade to shine?

No-no, 'mong them all, there is nothing like thee, Nothing like thee.

Oft, of old, without farewell or warning,
Beauty's self used to steal from the skies;
Fling a mist round her head, some fine morning,
And post down to earth in disguise;

But, no matter what shroud
Around her might be,
Men peep'd through the cloud,
And whisper'd ""T is She."
So thou, where thousands are,
Shin'st forth the only star

Yes, yes, 'mong them all, there is nothing like thee, Nothing like thee.

KEEP THOSE EYES STILL PURELY MINE

KEEP those eyes still purely mine

Though far off I be:

When on others most they shine,

Then think they 're turn'd on me.

Should those lips as now respond
To sweet minstrelsy,

When their accents seem most fond,

Then think they're breathed for me.

Make what hearts thou wilt thy own,

If when all on thee

Fix their charmed thoughts alone,

Thou think'st the while on me.

HEAR ME BUT ONCE.

[FRENCH AIR.]

HEAR me but once, while o'er the grave,
In which our Love lies cold and dead,

I count each flatt'ring hope he gave
Of joys, now lost, and charms now fled.

Who could have thought the smile he wore,
When first we met, would fade away?
Or that a chill would e'er come o'er

Those eyes so bright through many a day?
Hear me but once, &c.

THOU LOV 'ST NO MORE

Too plain, alas, my docm is spoken,
Nor canst thou veil the sad truth o'er,

Thy heart is changed, thy vow is broken,
Thou lov'st no more - thou lov'st no more.

Though kindly still those eyes behold me,
The smile is gone, which once they wore;
Though fondly still those arms enfold me,
"T is not the same thou lov'st no more

Too long my dream of bliss believing,
I've thought thee all thou wert before;
But now- alas! there's no deceiving,
"T is all too plain, thou lov'st no more.

Oh, thou as soon the dead couldst waken,
As lost affection's life restore,

Give peace to her that is forsaken,

Or bring back him who loves no more.