The Polish lady, by her lover led,

Delights through gay saloons with step untired to tread,

Or sweeter still, through moonlight walks,

Whose shadows serve to hide

The blush that's rais'd by him who talks

Of love the while by her side;

Then comes the smooth waltz, to whose floating sound Like dreams we go gliding around,

Say, which shall we dance? which shall we dance?

SOVEREIGN WOMAN.

A BALLAD.

THE dance was o'er, yet still in dreams
That fairy scene went on;

Like clouds still flush'd with daylight gleams,
Though day itself is gone.

And gracefully, to music's sound,

The same bright nymphs went gliding round;
While thou, the Queen of all, wert there-
The Fairest still, where all were fair.

The dream then chang'd-in halls of state,
I saw thee high enthron'd;

While, rang'd around, the wise, the great

In thee their mistress own'd:

And still the same, thy gentle sway

O'er willing subjects won its way-
'Till all confess'd the Right Divine
To rule o'er man was only thine!

But, lo, the scene now chang'd again-
And borne on plumed steed,

I saw thee o'er the battle-plain
Our land's defenders lead;

And stronger in thy beauty's charms,
Than man, with countless hosts in arms,
Thy voice, like music, cheer'd the Free,
Thy very smile was victory!

Nor reign such queens on thrones alone-
In cot and court the same,
Wherever woman's smile is known,
Victoria's still her name.

For though she almost blush to reign,
Though Love's own flow'rets wreathe the chain,
Disguise our bondage as we will,

'Tis woman, woman, rules us still.

WAKE THEE, MY DEAR.

WAKE thee, my dear-thy dreaming
Till darker hours will keep;
While such a moon is beaming,

'Tis wrong tow'rds Heav'n to sleep.

Moments there are we number,
Moments of pain and care,

Which to oblivious slumber

Gladly the wretch would spare.
But now-who'd think of dreaming
When Love his watch should keep?

While such a moon is beaming,

'Tis wrong tow'rds Heav'n to sleep.

If e'er the Fates should sever

My life and hopes from thee, love,
The sleep that lasts for ever

Would then be sweet to me, love;
But now,-away with dreaming!
Till darker hours 'twill keep;
While such a moon is beaming,
'Tis wrong tow'rds Heav'n to sleep.

THE HALCYON HANGS O'ER OCEAN.

THE halcyon hangs o'er ocean,
The sea-lark skims the brine;
This bright world's all in motion,
No heart seems sad but mine.

To walk through sun-bright places,
With heart all cold the while;
To look in smiling faces,

When we no more can smile;

To feel, while earth and heaven
Around thee shine with bliss,

To thee no light is given,

Oh, what a doom is this!

SONG OF THE POCO-CURANTE SOCIETY.

Haud curat Hippoclides.

To those we love we've drank to-night;

But now attend, and stare not,

While I the ampler list recite

Of those for whom WE CARE NOT.

For royal men, howe'er they frown,
If on their fronts they bear not
That noblest gem that decks a crown,

The People's Love-WE CARE NOT.

ERASM. Adag

For slavish men, who bend beneath
A despot yoke, yet dare not

Pronounce the will, whose very breath
Would rend its links-WE CARE NOT.

For priestly men, who covet sway
And wealth, though they declare no,
Who point, like finger-posts, the way
They never go-WE CARE NOT.

For martial men, who on their sword,
Howe'er it conquers, wear not
The pledges of a soldier's word,
Redeem'd and pure-WE CARE NOT.

For legal men, who plead for wrong,
And, though to lies they swear not,
Are hardly better than the throng
Of those who do-WE CARE NOT.

For courtly men, who feed upon

The land, like grubs, and spare not The smallest leaf, where they can sun Their crawling limbs-WE CARE NOL

For wealthy men, who keep their mines
In darkness hid, and share not
The paltry ore with him who pines
In honest want-WE CARE NOT.

For prudent men, who hold the power
Of Love aloof, and bare not
Their hearts in any guardless hour
To Beauty's shaft-WE CARE NOT.

For all, in short, on land or sea,

In camp or court, who are not, Who never were, or e'er will be

Good men and true-WE CARE NOT.

THE DAY OF LOVE.

THE beam of morning trembling
Stole o'er the mountain brook,
With timid ray resembling

Affection's early look.

Thus love begins-sweet morn of love!

The noon-tide ray ascended,

And o'er the valley's stream
Diffus'd a glow as splendid
As passion's riper dream.

Thus love expands-warm noon of love!

But evening came, o'ershading

The glories of the sky,

Like faith and fondness fading

From passion's alter'd eye.

Thus love declines-cold eve of love!

FANNY, DEAREST.

YES! 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 wish me not to despair and pine,
Fanny, dearest of all the dears!

The Love that's order'd to bathe in wine,
Would be sure to take cold in tears.