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 sorrows 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-
If pleasure's truest spell
Be to love well,

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.

LOVE, WANDERING THROUGH THE GOLDEN MAZE.

LOVE, wandering through the golden maze
Of my beloved's hair,

Traced every lock with fond delays,

And, doting, lingered there.

And soon he found 'twere vain to fly;

His heart was close confined,

And every curlet was a tie

A chain by beauty twined.

MERRILY EVERY BOSOM BOUNDETH.

THE TYROLESE SONG OF LIBERTY.

MERRILY every bosom boundeth,
Merrily oh!

Where the song of freedom soundeth,
Merrily oh!

There the warrior's arms

Shed more splendour;

There the maiden's charms

Shine more tender;

Every joy the land surroundeth,

Merrily oh! merrily oh!

Wearily every bosom pineth,
Wearily oh!

Where the bond of slavery twineth
Wearily oh!

There the warrior's dart

Hath no fleetness;

1

There the maiden's heart
Hath no sweetness-
Every flower of life declineth,
Wearily oh! wearily oh!

Cheerily then from hill and valley,
Cheerily oh!

Like your native fountains sally,
Cheerily oh!

If a glorious death,
Won by bravery,

Sweeter be than breath,

Sighed in slavery,

Round the flag of freedom rally,
Cheerily oh! cheerily oh!

REMEMBER THE TIME.

THE CASTILIAN MAID.

OH remember the time, in La Mancha's shades,
When our moments so blissfully flew ;
When you called me the flower of Castilian maids,
And I blushed to be called so by you;

When I taught you to warble the gay seguadille,
And to dance to the light castanet;

Oh never, dear youth, let you roam where you will,
The delight of those moments forget.

They tell me, you lovers from Erin's green isle
Every hour a new passion can feel,

And that soon, in the light of some lovelier smile,
You'll forget the poor maid of Castile.

But they know not how brave in the battle you are,
Or they never could think you would rove;
For 'tis always the spirit most gallant in war
That is fondest and truest in love.

OH, SOON RETURN.

THE white sail caught the evening ray,
The wave beneath us seemed to burn,
When all my weeping love could say
Was "Oh soon return!"

Through many a clime our ship was driven,
O'er many a billow rudely thrown;
Now chilled beneath a northern heaven,

Now sunned by summer's zone:

Yet still, where'er our course we lay,

When evening bid the west wave burn,

I thought I heard her faintly say,

"

Oh soon return!"

If ever yet my bosom found

Its thoughts one moment turned om thee, 'Twas when the combat raged around,

And brave men looked to me.
But though 'mid battle's wild alarm
Love's gentle power might not appear,
He gave to glory's brow the charm
Which made even danger dear.

And then, when victory's calm came o'er
The hearts where rage had ceased to burn,
I heard that farewell voice once more,
"Oh soon return!"

LOVE THEE.

OH, yes!-so well, so tenderly
Thou'rt loved, adored by me,
Fame, fortune, wealth, and liberty,

Were worthless without thee.

Though brimmed with blessings pure and rare Life's cup before me lay,

Unless thy love were mingled there,

I'd spurn the draught away. Love thee?-so well, so tenderly, Thou'rt loved, adored by me, Fame, fortune, wealth, and liberty; Are worthless without thee.

Without thy smile, how joylessly
All glory's meeds I see,
And even the wreath of victory
Must owe its bloom to thee.

Those worlds for which the conqueror sighs

For me have now no charms;

My only world those radiant eyes—
My throne those circling arms!
Oh, yes!-so well, so tenderly,
Thou'rt loved, adored by me,
Whole realms of light and liberty
Were worthless without thee.

ONE DEAR SMILE.

COULDST thou look as dear as when
First I sighed for thee;

Couldst thou make me feel again
Every wish I breathed thee then,

Oh how blissful life would be j

Hopes that now beguiling leave ine,

Joys that lie in slumber cold-

All would wake, couldst thou but give me
One dear smile like those of old.

Oh there's nothing left us now
But to mourn the past!
Vain was every ardent vow-
Never yet did Heaven allow

Love so warm, so wild, to last.
Not even hope could now deceive me-
Life itself looks dark and cold:
Oh thou never more canst give me
One dear smile like those of old.

THE DAY OF LOVE.

THE beam of morning trembling
Stole o'er the mountain brook,
With timid ray resembling
Affection's early look.

Thus love begins-sweet morn of love!

The noontide ray ascended,
And o'er the valley's stream
Diffused a glow as splendid
As passion's riper dream.

Thus love expands-warm noon of love i

But evening came, o'ershading

The glories of the sky,

Like faith and fondness fading

From passion's altered eye.

Thus love declines-cold eve of love

THE SONG OF WAR.

THE Song of war shall echo through our mountams Till not one hateful link remains

Of slavery's lingering chains;

Till not one tyrant tread our plains,

Nor traitor lip pollute our fountains.
No! never till that glorious day
Shall Lusitania's sons be

gay,

Or hear, O Peace, thy welcome lay

Resounding through her sunny mountains.

The song of war shall echo through our mountains,

Till Victory's self shall smiling say,

"Your cloud of foes hath passed away,

And Freedom comes with new-born ray,

To gild your vines and light your fountains."
Oh never till that glorious day

Shall Lusitania's sons be gay,

Or hear, O Peace, thy welcome lay
Resounding through her sunny mountains.

THE YOUNG ROSE.

THE young rose which I gave thee, so dewy and bright,
Was the floweret most dear to the sweet bird of night,
Who oft by the moon o'er her blushes hath hung,
And thrilled every leaf with the wild lay he sung.

Oh, take thou this young rose, and let her life be
Prolonged by the breath she will borrow from thee;
For while o'er her bosom thy soft notes shall thrill,
She'll think the sweet night-bird is courting her still.

WHEN MIDST THE GAY I MEET.

WHEN midst the gay I meet

That blessed smile of thine,

Though still on me it turns most sweet,
I scarce can call it mine:

But when to me alone

Your secret tears you show,

O then I feel those tears my own,
And claim them while they flow.
Then still with bright looks bless
The gay, the cold, the free;

Give smiles to those who love you less,
But keep your tears for me.

The snow on Jura's steep

Can smile with many a beam,

Yet still in chains of coldness sleep,
How bright soe'er it seem.

But when some deep-felt ray,
Whose touch is fire, appears,

Oh then, the smile is warmed away,
And, melting, turns to tears.

Then still with bright looks bless
The gay, the cold, the free;

Give smiles to those who love you less,

But keep your tears for me.

WHEN TWILIGHT DEWS.

WHEN twilight dews are falling soft
Upon the rosy sea, love,