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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.

OH! DOUBT ME NOT.

AIT-Yellow Wat and the For.

Oh! doubt me not the season

Is o'er, when Folly made me rove, And now the vestal, Reason,

Shall watch the fire awaked by Love. Although this heart was early blown,

And fairest hands disturb’d the tree, They only shook some blossoms down,

Its fruit has all been kept for thee. Then doubt me not the season

Is o'er, when Folly made me rove, And now the vestal, Reason,

Shall watch the fire awaked by Love.

And though my lute no longer

May sing of passion's ardent spell, Oh! trust me,

all the stronger I feel the bliss I do not tell.

The bee through many a garden roves,

And hums his lay of courtship o'er, But, when he finds the flower he loves,

He settles there and hums no more. Then doubt me not—the season

Is o'er, when Folly kept me free, And now the vestal, Reason,

Shall guard the flame awaked by thee.

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YOU REMEMBER ELLEN!.

AIR--Were I a Clerk,

You remember Ellen, our hamlet's pride,

How meekly she bless'd her humble lot, When the stranger, William, had made her his

bride, And love was the light of their lowly cot. Together they toil'd through winds and rains,

Till William at length in sadness said, “ We must seek our fortune on other plains;":

Then, sighing, she left her lowly shed.

They roam'd a long and a weary way,

Nor much was the maiden's heart at ease, When now, at close of one stormy day,

They see a proud castle among the trees.

· This ballad was suggested by a well-known and interesting story, told of a certain Noble Family in England.

“ To-night,” said the youth,“ we'll shelter there;

“ The wind blows cold, the hour is late:” So he blew the horn with a chieftain's air,

And the Porter bow'd as they pass'd the gate.

Now, welcome Lady,” exclaim’d the youth, “ This castle is thine, and these dark woods

all.” She believed him wild, but his words were truth,

For Ellen is Lady of Rosna Hall! And dearly the Lord of Rosna loves

What William, the stranger, woo'd and wed; And the light of bliss in these lordly groves,

Is pure as it shone in the lowly shed.

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