Dream!-Who dreams

Of the god who governs a thousand streams?
Ah, who is this spirit fine?
'Tis Wine, boys! 'tis Wine!
God Bacchus, a friend of mine!
O, better is he

Than grape or tree,

And the best of all good company!

SHE NEVER BLAMED HIM-NEVER.

T. H. BAYLY.]

[Music by Sir H. R. BISHOP,

She never blamed him-never,-
But received him when he came,
With a welcome kind as ever,

And she tried to look the same.
But vainly she dissembled,

For whene'er she tried to smile,
A tear unbidden trembled

In her blue eye all the while.

She knew that she was dying,
And she dreaded not her doom;
She never thought of sighing,

O'er her beauty's blighted bloom.
She knew her cheek was altered,
And she knew her eye was dim,
But her sweet voice only faltered
When she spoke of losing him.

'Tis true that he had lured her
From the isle where she was born,
"Tis true he had inured her

To the cold world's cruel scorn;

But yet she never blamed him

For the anguish she had known,
And though she seldom named him,
Yet she thought of him alone.

She sighed when he caress'd her,
For she knew that they must part,
She spoke not when he press'd her
To his young and panting heart;
The banners waved around her,

And she heard the bugle's sound-
They pass'd-and strangers found her
Cold and lifeless on the ground.

LIFE IS A RIVER.

CHARLES JEFFERYS.]

[Music by S. NELSON,

Oh, life is a river, and man is the boat,
That over its surface is destined to float-
And joy is a cargo so easily stor❜d,

That he is a fool who takes sorrow aboard.

We all have a taste of the ups and downs,
As Fortune dispenses her smiles and her frowns;
But may we not hope, if she's frowning to-day,
That to-morrow she'll lend us the light of her ray?

Would summer be prized for its fruits and its flowers If winter ne'er followed with storm, winds, and showers?

And does not the brightest of pleasures appear
Still brighter, when chequered by moments of care?

I ask not for gold, are there treasures in wealth,
So dear to the heart as contentment and health?
O, give me but these, nought can add to my store,
Without them, though riches are mine, I am poor.

"STRIKE THE IRON WHILE IT'S HOT." [Music by LOVELL PHILLIPS. With the light be up and doing

J. E. CARPENTER.]

For there's danger in delay,

Hope deferred but leads to ruin,
Now or never" wins the day.
With the thought, the deed begin it,
Act at once,-upon the spot;
What you'd gain, the way to win it,
Strike the iron while it's hot!

Strike the iron, &c.

Good advice ye need not spurn it,
But the man who'll soonest rise,
Faces danger but to turn it,

And upon himself relies.
Never wait another's aiding,
You yourself may be forgot,

Lose no time in vain upbraiding,-
Strike the iron while it's hot!

Strike the iron, &c.

Would ye do a kindly action,
Though your aid be vainly lent,
There is still the satisfaction

That the act was kindly meant.
Pause not then to ask another
If to do the deed or not,

Look in each as on a brother,-
Strike the iron while 'tis hot.

Strike the iron, &c.

I DO NOT LOVE THEE!

[Music by Mrs. NORTON.

Hon. Mrs. NORTON.]
I do not love thee,-no-I do not love thee,
And yet, when thou art absent I am sad,
And envy e'en the bright blue sky above thee,
Whose quiet stars may see thee and be glad.

I do not love thee,-yet, when thou art gone,
I hate the sound, though those who speak be dear,
Which breaks the lingering echo of the tone
The voice of music leaves upon my ear.

I do not love thee,-yet I know not why,Whate'er thou dost, seems still well done to me; And often, in my solitude, I sigh

That those I do love are not more like thee.

THE GIPSY KING.

From the German.]

Oh, 'tis I am the gipsy king,

[Music by W. WEST.

And where is there king like me?
No trouble my dignities bring,

No other is half so free.

In my kingdom there is but one table,
All my subjects partake of my cheer,
We would all drink champagne were we able,
As it is, we have plenty of beer.

For I am the gipsy king!

A king, and a true one am I,

No courtier nor minister fear;

Ha ha!

I see everything with mine own eye

And hear everything with mine own ear.
No conspiracy I apprehend,

Among brothers and equals I rule;
We all help both to gain and to spend,
And get drunk when the treasury's full.
For I, &c

I confess that I am but a man,

My failings who pleases may know,

I'm fond of my girl and my can,

And jolly companions a row.

My subjects are kind to me,

They don't grudge me the largest glass,

Nor yet that I hold on my knee

At this moment the prettiest lass.

For I, &c.

Ne'er a king do I envy, nor Keyser,
Who sits on a golden throne;
And I'll tell you the reason why, sir,
Here's a sceptre and ball of my own.
To sit the night through in a crown,
I've a notion mine ears 'twould freeze;
So I pull my old nightcap down,
And tipple and smoke at my ease.

For I, &c.

WHY DID SHE LEAVE HIM?

J. E. CARPENTER.]

[Music by J. E. PERRING. Why did she leave him? they grew up together; In the old church-on the old village greenNever apart in the sunshiny weather,

Ellen and Edward in childhood were seen.
She had not wealth, but her beauty commanded
Suitors, alas! who could riches secure,

And, when her hand, as his bride, he demantled,
Why did she leave him because he was poor?

He who was once 'mid the young and gay-hearted,
First in the frolic of market and fair;

Wan are his cheeks whence the smile has departed,
Others may revel, but he cannot share.

Bright are the eyes that around him are beaming,
Cold is the heart that they strive to allure-
Save when at night on the past he is dreaming,-
Why did she leave him because he was poor.

Now she rides by in her pride and her carriage,

But where is the bloom that once shone on her cheek? Haughty and cold are the friends of her marriage; Now she must feel what she dare not to speak! She, perchance, sighs for her earlier hours

Grieves for the sorrow that he must endure--Would give up the world for a wreath of wild flowers,Why did she leave him because he was poor?