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And though of some plumes bereft, THE CRYSTAL HUNTERS,

With that sun, too, nearly set,
I've enough of light and wing still left

Swiss Air.
For a few gay soarings yet.

O’er mountains bright with snow and

light,

We Crystal Hunters speed along, GO, THEN—'TIS VAIN.

While grots and caves, and icy waves,

Each instant echo to our song;

And when we meet with stores of gems, Sicilian Air

We grudge not kings their diadems. Go, then-'tis vain to hover

O'er mountains bright with snow and Thus round a hope that's dead

light, At length my dream is over,

We Crystal Hunters speed along, 'Twas sweet-'twas false'tis fled !

While grots and caves, and icy waves, Farewell; since nought it moves thee,

Each instant echo to our song. Such truth as mine to see,

No lover half so fondly dreams Some one, who far less loves thee,

Of sparkles from his lady's eyes, Perhaps more blest will be.

As we of those refreshing gleams

That tell where deep the crystal lies; Farewell, sweet eyes, whose brightness Though, next to crystal, we too grant New life around me shed !

That ladies' eyes may most enchant. Farewell, false heart, whose lightness

O'er mountains, etc. Now leaves me death instead !

Sometimes, when o'er the Alpine rose Go, now, those charms surrender

The golden sunset leaves its ray, To some new lover's sigh,

So like a gem the floweret glows,
One who, though far less tender, We thither bend our headlong way;
May be more blest than I.

And though we find no treasure there,
We bless the rose that shines so fair.

O’er mountains, etc,

BRIGHT BE THY DREAMS !

ROW GENTLY HERE.
Welsh Air.

Venetian Air.
BRIGHT be thy dreams-may all thy
weeping

Row gently here, my gondolier; so Turn into smiles while thou art sleeping: softly wake the tide,

Those by death or seas removed, That not an ear on earth may hear, but Friends, who in thy spring-time knew hers to whom we glide. thee,

Had Heaven but tongues to speak, as All thou'st ever prized or loved, well as starry eyes to see, In dreams come smiling to thee ! Oh ! think what tales 'twould have to

tell of wandering youths like me! There may the child, whose love lay Now rest thee here, my gondolier; deepest,

hush, hush, for up I go, Dearest of all

, come while thou sleepest: To climb yop light balcony's height, Still the same-no charm forgot- while thou keep'st watch below. Nothing lost that life had given ; Ah! did we take for heaven above but Or, if changed, but changed to half such pains as we what

Take day and night for woman's love, Thou'lt find her yet in Heaven !

what angels we should be !

me

me

OH! DAYS OF YOUTH.

Fading as fast as rainbows or day

flowers, French Air.

Or aught that's known for grace and Oh! days of youth and joy, long short as the Persian's

lightness. clouded,

prayer,

his Why thus for ever haunt my view ?

prayer at close of day, When in the grave your light lay Quick let him worship Beauty's precious

Must be each vow of Love's repeating; shrouded,

rayWhy did not Memory die there too?

Even while he kneels, that ray is Vainly doth Hope her strain now sing

flecting ! me, Whispering of joys that yet remainNo, no, never more cap this life bring PEACE TO THE SLUMBERERS ! One joy that equals youth's sweet

Catalonian Air.
pain.

PEACE to the slumberers !
Dim lies the way to death before me, They lie on the battle plain,
Cold winds of Time blow round my With no shroud to cover them ;
brow;

The dew and the summer rain
Sunshine of youth that once fell o'er me, Are all that weep over them.
Where is your warmth, your glory
now?

Vain was their bravery !
'Tis not that then no pain could sting The fallen oak lies where it lay,

Across the wintry river ; 'Tis not that now no joys remaid ; But brave hearts, once swept away, Oh ! it is that life no more can bring me Are gone, alas ! for ever. One joy so sweet as that worst pain.

Woe to the conqueror !

Our limbs shall lie as cold as tlieiis

Of whom his sword bereft us, WHEN FIRST THAT SMILE.

Ere we forget the deep arrears

Of vengeance they have left us ! Venetian Air. WHEN first that smile, like sunshine, WHEN THOU SHALT WANDER.

blessed my sight, Oh! what a vision then came o'er me!

Sicilian Air. Long years of love, of calm and pure delight,

When thou shalt wander by that sweet Seemed in that smile to pass before me, light Ne'er did the peasant dream, ne'er We used to gaze on so many an eve, dream of summer skies,

When love was new and hope was Of golden fruit and harvests springing, bright, With fonder hope than I of those sweet Ere I could doubt or thou deceiveeyes,

Oh! then remembering how swift went And of the joy their light was by bringing.

Those hours of transport, even thou

may'st sigh. Where now

all those fondly promised hours ?

Yes, proud one ! even thy heart may Oh! woman's faith is like her brightness,

That love like ours was far too sweet

are

own

to

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To be, like summer garments thrown Love, who saw the whole proceeding,

A side when past the summer's heat; Would have laughed, but for goodAnd wish in vain to know again

breeding; Such days, such nights as bless'd thee While old Hymen, who was used to then.

Cries like that these dames gave loose

"Take back our love-knots ! WHO'LL BUY MY LOVE-KNOTS?

Take back our love-knots !'

Coolly said, “There's no returning Portuguese Air.

Wares on Hymen's hands-Good morn.

ing !' HYMEN late, his love-knots selling, Called at many a maiden's dwelling: None could doubt who saw or knew SEE, THE DAWN FROM HEAVEN.

them, Hymen's call was welcome to them.

Sung at Rome on Christmas Eve. • Who'll buy my love-knots ? SEE, the dawn from heaven is breaking Who'll buy my love-kuots?'

o'er our sight, Soon as that sweet cry resounded, And earth, from sin awaking, hails the How his baskets were surrounded !

light !

See, those groups of Angels, winging Maids who now first dreamed of trying from the realms above, These gay knots of Hymen's tying; On their sunny brows from Eden bring. Dames, who long had sat to watch him

ing wreaths of Hope and Love. Pessing by, but ne'er could catch him;Who'll buy my love-knots ?

Hark—their hymus of glory pealing Who'll buy my love-knots ?

through the air, All at that sweet cry assembled ;

To mortal ears revealing who lies there! Some laughed, some blushed, and some In that dwelling, dark and lowly, trembled.

sleeps the heavenly Son,

He, whose home is in the skies-the 'Here are knots,' said Hymen, taking Holy One! Some loose flowers, of Love's own

making; Here are gold ones-you may trust

NETS AND CAGES. 'em' —

Swedish Air. (These, of course, found ready custom),

Come, buy my love-knots ! COME, listen to my story, while
Come, buy my love-knots !

Your needle's task you ply; Some are labelled “Knots to tie men"- At what I sing some maids will smile, "Love the maker" -. 66

Bought of

While some perhaps may sigh. Hymen.”

Though Love's the theme, and Wisdom

blames Scarce their bargains were completed,

Such florid songs as ours, When the nymphs all cried, “We're Yet Truth soinetime, like Eastern cheated !

dames, See these flowers—they're drooping sadly ;

Can speak her thoughts by flowers.

Then listen, maids, come listen, while This gold-knot, too, ties but badly- Your peedle's task you ply; Who'd buy such love-knots ?

At what I sing there's some may smile, Who'd buy such love-knots ?

While some perhaps will sigh. Even this tie, with Love's name round it

Young Cloe, bent on catching Loves, All a sham-he never bound it.'

Such nets had learned to frame,

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That none, in all our vales and groves, Now, now, while there hover
E’er caught so much small game :

Those clouds o'er the moon,
While gentle Sue, less given to roam,

'Twill waft thee safe over When Cloe's nets were taking

Yon silent Lagoon.'
These flights of birds, sat still at home,
One small, neat Love-cage making.

Come, listen, maids, &c.
Much Cloe laughed at Susan's task ;

GO, NOW, AND DREAM. But mark how things went on:

Sicilian Air. These light.caught Loves, ere you could ask

Go, now, and dream o'er that joy in Their name and age, were gone!

thy slumberSo weak poor Cloe's nets were wove, Moments so sweet again ne'er shalt

That, though she charmed into them thou number. New game each hour, the youngest Love Of Pain's bitter draught the flavour Was able to break through them. never flies, Come, listen, maids, &c. While Pleasure's scarce touches the lip

ere it dies! Meanwhile, young Sue, whose cage was wrought

That moon, which hung o'er your partOf bars too strong to sever,

ing, so splendid, One Love with golden pinions caught, Often will shine again, bright as she And caged him there for ever;

then didInstructing thereby, all coquettes, But, ah ! never more will the beam she

Whate'er their looks or ages, That though 'tis pleasant weaving Nets, In those happy eyes at your meeting 'Tis wiser to make Cages.

return. Thus, maidens, thus do I beguile

The task your fingers ply-
May all who hear, like Susan smile,
Ah ! not like Cloe sigh !

TAKE HENCE THE BOWL.

Neapolitan Air.
WHEN THROUGH THE TAKE hence the owl; though beaming
PIAZZETTA.

Brightly as bowl e'er shone,

Oh! it but sets me dreaming
Venetian Air.

Of days, of nights now gone.
WHEN through the piazzetta

There, in its clear reflection,

As in a wizard's glass,
Night breathes her cool air,
Then, dearest Ninetta,

Lost hopes and dead affection,

Like shades, before me pass.
I'll come to thee there.
Beneath thy mask shrouded,
I'll know thee afar,

Each

cup I drain brings hither As Love knows, though clouded, Some friend who once sat byHis own Evening Star.

Bright lips, too bright to wither,

Warm hearts, too warm to die !
In garb, then, resembling

Till, as the dream comes o'er me
Some gay gondolier,

Of those long vanished years,
I'll whisper thee, trembling, Then, then the cup before me
Our bark, love, is pear :

Seems turning all to tears.

saw burn

over

FAREWELL, THERESA ! 'I come, my love !' each sound they

utter seems to say ; Venetian Air

'I come, my love ! thine, thine till FAREWELL, Theresa ! that cloud which break of day.'

Oh! weak the power of words, Yon moon this moment gathering

The hues of painting dim, we see,

Compared to what those simplechords Shall scarce from her pure orb have Then say and paint to him.

passed, ere thy lover Swift o'er the wide wave shall wander from thee.

WHEN THE FIRST SUMMER BEE.

German Air Long, like that dim cloud, I've hung

WHEN the first summer bee around thee,

O'er the young rose shall hover, Darkening thy prospects, saddeving

Then, like that gay rover, thy brow :

I'll come to thee. With gay heart, Theresa, and bright He to flowers, I to lips, full of sweets cheek I found thee;

to the brimOh ! think how changed, love, how

What a meeting, what a meeting for changed art thou now !

me and him! But here I free thee : like one awaking Then, to every bright tree From fearful slumber, this dream In the garden he'll wander, thou'lt tell;

While I, oh! much fonder, The bright moon her spell too is breaking, Will stay with thee, Past are the dark clouds ; Theresa, In search of new sweetness through farewell !

thousands he'll run, While I find the sweetness of thousands

in one. HOW OFT, WHEN WATCHING STARS.

THOUGH'TIS ALL BUT A DREAM. Savoyard Air.

French Air.

Though 'tis all but a dream at the best, How oft, when watching stars grow pale, And round me sleeps the moqulight Yet, even in a dream to be blessed

And still when happiest soonest o'er, scene,

Is so sweet, that I ask for no more. To hear a flute through yonder vale

The bosom that opes with earliest hopes, I from my casement lean.

The soonest finds those hopes untrue, "Oh! come, my love !' each note it As flowers that firstinspring-time burst, utters seems to say !

The earliest wither too! Oh! come, my love ! the night wears fast away!'

Ay~'tis all but a dream, &c. No, ne'cr to mortal ear

By friendship we oft are deceived, Can words, though warm they be, And find the love we clung to past; Speak Passion's language half so clear Yet friendship will still be believed, As do those notes to me!

And love trusted on to the last.

The web in the leaves the spider weaves Then quick my own light I scek, Is like the charm Hope hangs o'er men; And strike the chords with loudest Though often she sees it broke by the swell;

breeze, And though they nought to others speak, She spins the bright tissue again. He knows their language well.

Ay--'tis all but a dream, &c.

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