The rest were all cull'd from the banks of that glade,
Where, watching the sunset, so often we've stray'd.
And mourn'd, as the time went, that Love had no power
To bind in his chain even one happy hour.

OFT, IN THE STILLY NIGHT.

(SCOTCH AIR.)

OFT, in the stilly night,

Ere Slumber's chain has bound me,
Fond Memory brings the light

Of other days around me;

The smiles, the tears,

Of boyhood's years,

The words of love then spoken;

The eyes that shone,

Now dimm'd and gone,

The cheerful hearts now broken!

Thus, in the stilly night,

Ere Slumber's chain hath bound me,

Sad Memory brings the light

Of other days around me.

When I remember all

The friends, so link'd together,

I've seen around me fall.

Like leaves in wintry weather;

I feel like one,

Who treads alone

Some banquet-hall deserted,

Whose lights are fled,

Whose garlands dead,
And all but he departed!

Thus, in the stilly night,

Ere Slumber's chain has bound me,

Sad Memory brings the light

Of other days around me.

LOVE IS A HUNTER-BOY.

LANGUEDOCIAN AIR.)

Love is a hunter-boy,

Who makes young hearts his prey;
And, in his nets of joy,

Ensnares them night and day.
In vain conceal'd they lie--

Love tracks them everywhere;

In vain aloft they fly

Love shoots them flying there.

But 'tis his joy most sweet,
At early dawn to trace
The print of Beauty's feet,

And give the trembler chase.
And if, through virgin snow,

He tracks her footsteps fair,
How sweet for Love to know
None went before him there.

HOW SHALL I WOO?

IF I speak to thee in Friendship's name,
Thou think'st I speak too coldly;
If I mention Love's devoted flame,
Thou say'st I speak too boldly.
Between these two unequal fires,
Why doom me thus to hover?
I'm a friend, if such thy heart requires,
If more thou seek'st, a 'lover.
Which shall it be? How shall I woo?
Tair one, choose between the two.

Tho' the wings of Love will brightly play,
When first he comes to woo thee,
There's a chance that he may fly away

As fast as he flies to thee.

While Friendship, though on foot she come,
No flights of fancy trying,

Will, therefore, oft be found at home,
When Love abroad is flying.

Which shall it be? How shall I woo?
Dear one, choose between the two.

If neither feeling suits thy heart,
Let's see, to please thee, whether
We may not learn some precious art
To mix their charms together;
One feeling, still more sweet, to form
From two so sweet already--
A friendship that like love is warm,
A love like friendship steady.
Thus let it be, thus let me woc,
Dearest, thus we'll join the two.

WHERE ARE THE VISIONS.

"WHERE are the visions that round me once hover'd,
Forms that shed grace from their shadows alone;
Looks fresh as light from a star just discover'd,
And voices that Music might take for her own?"

Time, while I spoke, with his wings resting o'er me,
Heard me say, "Where are those visions, oh where ?'
And pointing his wand to the sunset before me,
Said, with a voice like the hollow wind, "There."

Fondly I look'd, when the wizard had spoken,
And there, 'mid the dim shining ruins of day,
Saw, by their light, like a talisman broken,
The last golden fragments of hope melt away.

(CASHMERIAN AIR.)

Он, no-not ev'n when first we lov'd,
Wert thou as dear as now thou art;

Thy beauty then my senses mov'd,
But now thy virtues bind my heart.

What was but Passion's sigh before,

Has since been turn'd to Reason's vow; And, though I then might love thee more, Trust me, I love thee betier now.

Although my heart in earlier youth
Might kindle with more wild desire,
Believe me, it has gain'd in truth

Much more than it has lost in fire.
The flame now warms my inmost core,
That then but sparkled o'er my brow,
And, though I seem'd to love thee more,
Yet, oh, I love thee better now.

LIKE ONE WHO, DOOM'D.

LIKE one who, doom'd o'er distant seas
His weary path to measure,

When home at length, with fav'ring breeze,
He brings the far-sought treasure;

His ship, in sight of shore, goes down,
That shore to which he hasted;

And all the wealth he thought his own

Is o'er the waters wasted:

Like him, this heart, through many a track

Of toil and sorrow straying,

One hope alone brought fondly back,
Its toil and grief repaying.

Like him, alas, I see that ray
Of hope before me perish,

And one dark minute sweep away

What years were given to cherish.