Right firm and true

Are the hearts of his crew-
There's faith in the shouts that ring,
As they stave the cask,

And drain the flask,

And drink to the Smuggler King.

As they, &c.

THERE IS A FLOWER THAT BLOOMETH.

E. FITZBALL.]

[Music by W. V. WALLACE.

There is a flower that bloometh,
When autumn leaves are shed;
With the silent moon it weepeth,
The spring and summer fled.
The early frost of winter

Scarce one tint hath overcast,
O pluck it ere it wither,
"Tis the mem'ry of the past.

It wafted perfume o'er us,

Of sweet, though sad regret,
For the true friends gone before
Whom none would e'er forget.
Let no heart brave its power,
By guilty thoughts o'ercast,
For then a poison flower

Is the memory of the past.

us,

WHAT ARE THE WILD WAVES SAYING? "I want to know what it says, the sea-what is it that it keeps on saying ?"-Paul, in "Dombey and Son."

J. E. CARPENTER.]

[Music by STEPHEN GLOVER.

"What are the wild waves saying,

Sister, the whole day long,

That ever, amid our playing,

I hear but their low, lone song?

Not by the sea-side only

There it sounds wild and free;

But at night, when 'tis dark and lonely,
In dreams it is still with me."

"Brother! I hear no singing:
"Tis but the rolling wave,
Ever its lone course winging
Over some ocean cave!
"Tis but the noise of water
Dashing against the shore,

And the wind, from some bleaker quarter,
Mingling with its roar."

No, no! it is something greater
That speaks to the heart alone:
The voice of the great Creator
Dwells in that mighty tone!

"Yes! but the waves seem ever
Singing the same sad thing;
And vain is my weak endeavour,
То guess what the surges sing.
What is that voice repeating,
Ever by night and day?
Is it a friendly greeting?

Or a warning that calls away?"
"Brother! the inland mountain,
Hath it not voice and sound?
Speaks not the dripping fountain,
As it bedews the ground?
E'en by the household ingle,

Curtain'd, and clos'd, and warm,

Do not our voices mingle

With those of the distant storm ?"

Yes, yes! but there's something greater
That speaks to the heart alone:

The voice of the great Creator
Dwells in that mighty tone!

THE DEATH OF THE FLOWERS. Mrs. SOUTHEY.] [Music by R. TOPLIFF. How happily, how happily the flowers die away! Oh! could we but return to earth as easily as they; Just live a life of sunshine, of innocence, and bloom, Then drop without decrepitude or pain into the tomb.

The gay and glorious creatures, "they neither toil nor spin,'

Yet, lo! what goodly raiment they're all apparelled in ; No tears are on their beauty, but dewy gems more bright

Than ever brow of eastern queen endiadem'd with light.

The young rejoicing creatures! their pleasures never pall, Nor lose in sweet contentment, because so free to all; The dew, the shower, the sunshine, the balmy, blessed air,

Spend nothing of their freshness, though all may freely share.

The happy, careless creatures! of time they take no heed,

Nor weary of his creeping, nor tremble at his speed; Nor sigh with sick impatience, and wish the light

away;

Nor when 'tis gone, cry dolefully, "Would God that it were day."

And when their lives are over, they drop away to rest, Unconscious of the final doom, on Nature's holy breast; No pain have they in dying, no shrinking from decay, Oh, could we but return to earth as easily as they!

THE WISHING GATE.

J. E. CARPENTER.]

[Music by N. J. SPORLE.

'Twas a Michaelmas evc, and rather late, Young Fanny went out to the Wishing Gate

For often she'd heard the gossips tell
That was the spot where the fairies dwell;
The fairies who granted to maidens dear,
Whatever they asked, at that time of year;
So Fanny she went her luck to try

At the Wishing Gate 'neath starlit sky!
But yet you shall hear, when the tale I state,
That Fanny repented the Wishing Gate!

"I wish for! I wish for!"-and here she sigh'd;
"I wish I'd a carriage and grooms beside;
I wish I had jewels, a wardrobe fine;-
Oh! what a dash at the ball I'd shine!
I'd marry the richest in all the land,
And nobles and princes should ask my hand;
And as to young Harry-but never mind,-
He should think himself lucky to ride behind."
Oh! little she knew-though the truth I state,-
Young Harry stood close to the Wishing Gate!

When Fanny went home-as the story's told,
She had heaps of fine dresses and fairy-gold;
Her footmen awaited their lady's call,

And she went in her carriage to grace the ball!
Young Harry was there, but he knew her not,
Each youth that approached her soon fled the spot;
For though all her raiment was rich and gay,
Her face was be-wrinkled, her hair turned grey!
So maidens beware of poor Fanny's fate,
Don't ask for too much at the Wishing Gate!

TAKE HER-SHE HATH LONG BEEN OURS.

F. W. N. BAYLEY.]

[Music by A, LEE.

Take her, she hath long been ours-
We have loved her long and well;

Sweetest of our valley's flowers,

Rose-queen of our peaceful dell!

It hath been our pride to rear her,
Winning us away from grief;
Earth holds nothing purer-dearer,
'Mong its beautiful and brief!

Take her tears of grief or sorrow
Have not burned upon her cheek;
Guard her now, and hail her morrow,
When you see its beauty break.
But, oh, fling no shade of sadness
On a heart as warm as wild;
This is now her time of gladness-
Watch, trust, cherish-love our child!

I will watch her-I will love her;
She shall be my spirit bride!
All my heart and thoughts shall hover
Round her path and at her side!
Nothing shall she bear severer

From my harshness than a kiss;
You who love shall still be near her,
And be happy in her bliss!

Though the world should look unkindly,
Constancy may laugh at woe;
Still my heart shall follow blindly
Where affection bids it go.
Now for ever I will take her,

Dear and lovely, pure and mild!

I, though all the world forsake her,
Will trust, cherish, love your child!

TEN SWEET GLIDING YEARS.

CHARLES JEFFERYS.]

[Music by S. NELSON

Dearest, ten sweet gliding years
Have floated down Time's stream,
And all their varied hopes and fears
Seem like a pleasant dream.