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To gild your vines and light your fountain,"

Oh never till that glorious day
Shall Lusitania's sons be gay,

Or hear, () 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

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 iess,

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.

VHEN twilight dews are falling soft

Vpon the rosy sea, love,

I watch the star whose beam so oft

Has lighted me to thee, love.
And thou too, on that orb so dear,

Ah dost thou gaze at even,
And think, though lost for ever here,

Thou'lt yet be mine in heaven?
There's not a garden walk I tread,

There's not a flower I see, love,
But brings to mind some hope that's fled,

Some joy I've lost with thee, love.
And still I wish that hour was near,

When, friends and foes forgiven, The pains, the ills we've wept through here,

May turn to smiles in heaven.

OH! had I leisure to sigh and mourn,

Fanny, dearest, for thee I'd sigh;
And every smile on my cheek should turn

To tears when thou art nigh.
But between love, and wine, and sleep,

So busy a life I live,
That even the time it would take to weep

Is more than my heart can give. Then bid me not to despair and pine,

Fanny, dearest of all the dears! The Love that's ordered to bathe in wine

Would be sure to take cold in tears.

Reflected bright in this heart of mine,

Fanny, dearest, thy image lies;
But oh, the mirror would cease to shine,

If dimmed too often with sighs.
They lose the half of beauty's light

Who view it through sorrow's tear; And 'tis but to see thee truly bright

That I keep my eye-beam clear: . Then wait no longer till tears shall flow,

Fanny, dearest—the hope is vain ; If sunshine cannot dissolve thy snow,

I shall never attempt it with rain.

Sigh not thus, oh simple boy,

Nor for woman languish;
Loving cannot boast a joy

Worth one hour of anguish.

Moons have faded fast away,

Stars have ceased their shining ;
Woman's love, as bright as they,

Feels as quick declining.
Then, love, vanish hence !

Fye, boy, banish hence
Melancholy thoughts of Cupid's lore;

Hours soon fly away,

Charms soon die away ; Then the silly dream of the heart is o'er.

'TIS LOVE THAT MURMURS. Tis Love that murmurs in my breast,

And makes me shed the secret tear; Nor day nor night my heart has rest,

For night and day his voice I hear. Oh bird of love, with song so drear,

Make not my soul the nest of pain ! Oh let the wing which brought thee here

in pity waft thee hence again!

YOUNG ELLA. YOUNG Ella was the happiest maid

That ever hailed the infant spring, Her carol charmed the blissful shade,

Love tanght his favourite nymph to sing. But ah ! that sorrow's preying worm

Should nip the tender buds of peace ;
Now wan with woe is Ella's form,
And all her notes of rapture cease.

Alas, poor Ella!
Oh! she was like the silver rose

That drinks the early tears of heaven, Bright as the dewy star that glows

Upon the blushing brow of even! How couldst thou, faithless Edmund, leave

A nymph so true, so brightly fair, In horror's darkling cell to weave The gloomy cypress of despair ?

Alas, poor Ella! No longer now the hamlet train

Her beauty, life, and sense admire, Bewildered is her aching brain,

And quenched is all that lively fire.

Where shadows veil the mountain height,

And fiends of darkness murmur low,
On every sobbing breeze of night
Is heard the maniac's plaint of woe.

Alas, poor Elia!
Fond maid, when from these ills severe

Death steals thee to his lonely bower, Pity shall drop her angel tear,

And twine thy grave with many a flower.
The story of thy hapless doom

Shall deck the rustic poet's lay;
And as they pass thy simple tomb,
The village hinds shall weeping say,

Alas, poor Ella!

THE PILGRIM Holy be the pilgrim's sleep,

From the dreams of terror free; And may all who wake to weep

Rest to-night as sweet as he. "Hark! hark, did I hear a vesper sweil ?

It is, my love, some pilgrim's prayer !” - No, no, 'tis but the convent hell,

That tolled upon the midnight air !" “Now, now again, the voice I hear, Some holy man is wandering near : O pilgrim, where hast thou been roaming? Dark is the way, and midnight's coming !' 'Stranger, I've been o'er moor and mountain, To tell my beads at Agnes' fountain !” "And, pilgrim, say where art thou going? Dark is the way, the winds are blowing ?” “Weary with wandering, weak, I falter, To breathe my vows at Agnes' altar !” Strew then, oh strew his bed of rushes, Here he shall rest till morning blushes !

(Dirge heard from the convent within.) Peace to them whose days are done,

Death their eyelids closing ; Hark! the burial rite's begun, 'I is time for our reposing.

(Pilgrim throwing off his disguise.) “Here, then, my pilgrim's course is o'er.”

“'Tis my master, 'tis my master, Welcome! welcome home once more !"

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WILT THOU SAY FAREWELL, LOVE I “ Wilt thou say farewell, love,

And from Zelinda part ? Zelinda's tears will tell, love,

The anguish of her heart.” "I'll still be thine, and thou'lt be mine,

I'll love thee though we sever; Oh ! say, can I e'er cease to sigh,

Or cease to love?-oh never.'

“Wilt thou think of me, love,

When thou art far away?” “Oh ! I'll think of thee, love,

Never, never stray!" “Let not other wiles, love,

Thy ardent heart betray; Remember Zelinda's smile, love,

Zelinda, far away!”

CEASE, oh cease to tempt

My tender heart to love,
It never, never can

So wild a flame approve.
All its joys and pains

To others I resign;
But be the vacant heart,

The careless bosom, inine,
Say, oh say no more,

That lovers' pains are sweet ;
I never, never can

Believe the fond deceit.
Weeping day and night,

Consuming life in sighs;
This is the lover's lot,

And this I ne'er could prize.

JOYS THAT PASS AWAY. Joys that pass away like this,

Alas! are purchased dear, If every beam of bliss

Is followed by a tear.

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