And I say unto thee, that verily, ah,
Thou and I will be first in the throng.
Just then when the swain who last year won the dower,
With his mates shall the sports have begun,
When the gay voice of gladness resounds from each
And thou longest in thy heart to make one.
Those joys, which are harmless, what mortal can blame? 'Tis my maxim that youth should be free,
And to prove that my words and deeds are the same, thou'lt presently see.
When lingering sunbeams fade away
And flowrets drop their heads,
And twilight o'er departing day
Its mystic influence sheds :
When nature sleeps in calm repose
O'er mountain, brake, and tree;
And stars their twinkling light disclose,
I think of love and thee.
'Tis in that silent, lonely hour
The soul recals the past,
And conjures up with magic power
Bright days too pure to last;
Then fancy paints in vivid rays
Scenes ever dear to me.
And, musing o'er those by-gone days,
I think of love and thee!
LET US SPEAK OF A MAN AS WE FIND HIM.
Let us speak of a man as we find him,
And censure alone what we see,
And should a man blame, let's remind him
That from faults we are none of us free;
If the veil from the heart could be torn,
And the mind could be read on the brow,
There are many we'd pass by with scorn
Whom we're loading with high honours now.
Let us speak of a man as we find him,
And heed not what others may say;
If he's frail, then a kind word may bind him
Where coldness would turn him away;
For the heart must be barren indeed
Where no bud of repentance can bloom;
Then pause ere you cause it to bleed-
On a frown or a smile hangs its doom.
Hark! 'tis fairy music stealing
Through the woods so soft and clear;
List! those gentle sounds revealing
That the fairy elves are near.
Nearer now, and now retreating,-
Sound and echo! Hark! again;
'Tis some joyous fairy greeting-
None but they could make that straip.
Yes, 'tis fairy music, &c.
All is still, the charm is broken,
They have heard us in the glen,
Or the fairy spell is broken,
And they leave the haunts of men.
Hark again! I hear their voices;
Hush! our presence you'll betray;
Echo o'er the strain rejoices
As it softly dies away.
Yes, 'twas fairy music, &c.
TELL ME WHERE DO FAIRIES DWELL.
Tell me where do fairies dwell,
Where they work each mystic spell;
Tell me where their home can be,
Where they sport in fantasie?
Far removed from human eyes,
Yet their home is 'neath the skies;
On the greenwood, in the dell,
There the fairy creatures dwell.
DUET. Singing so cherrily
Fairy-like song;
Dancing so merrily
All the night long.
Tell me, gentle sister dear,
When the moon is shining clear,
May not merry elves be seen
Where we know their steps have been ?
No! for we the spell should break;
They the spot would soon forsake:
Sometimes heard, but never seen
Gentle spirits haunt the green.
DUET. Singing so cherrily, &c.
'TIS HARD TO GIVE THE HAND.
Though I mingle in the throng
Of the happy and the gay,
From the mirth of dance and song
I would fain be far away;
For I love to use no wile,
And I can but deem it sin
That the brow should wear a smile
When the soul is sad within.
Though a parent's stern command
Claims obedience still from me,
It is hard to give the hand
Where the heart can never be
I have sighed and suffered long,
Yet have never told my grief,
In the hope that for my wrong
Time itself would bring relief;
I will own no rebel thought,
But I will not wear the chain,
That with me must still be fraught
With but misery and pain.
In all else I will be bland,
But in this I must be free,
And I will not give the hand
Where the heart can never be.
Here's a health to the Queen, and a lasting peace,
To faction an end, to wealth increase;
Come, let's drink it while we have breath,
For there's no drinking after death.
And he that will this health deny,
Down among the dead men let him lie.
Let charming beauty's health go round,
In whom celestial joys are found,
And may confusion still pursue
The senseless woman-hating crew;
And they that woman's health deny,
Down among the dead men let them lie.
In smiling Bacchus' joy I'll roll,
Deny no pleasure to my soul;
Let Bacchus' health round briskly move,
For Bacchus is a friend to Love.
And he that will this health deny,
Down among the dead men let him lie.
May love and wine their rights maintain,
And their united pleasures reign,
While Bacchus' treasure crowns the board,
We'll sing the joys that both afford;
And they that wont with us comply,
Down among the dead men let them lie.
THE LAND OF THE WEST.
SAMUEL LOVER.]
[Music by S. Lover.
Oh, come to the West, love-Oh, come there with me,
'Tis a sweet land of verdure that springs from the sea-
Where fair Plenty smiles from her emerald throne—
Oh, come to the West, and I'll make thee my own;
I'll guard thee, I'll tend thee, I'll love thee the best,
And you'll say there's no land like the land of the West.
The South has its roses and bright skies of blue,
But ours are more sweet with Love's own changeful hue;
Half sunshine, half tears, like the girl I love best-
Oh, what is the South to the beautiful West!
Then come there with me, and the rose on thy mouth
Will be sweeter to me than the flowers of the South.
The North has its snow-tow'rs of dazzling array,
All sparkling with gems in the ne'er setting day-
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