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For his was the error of head, not A prince without pride, a man without heart,

guile, And-oh, how beyond the ambushed To the last unchanging, warm, sinfoe,

cere, Who to enmity adds the traitor's For worth he had ever a hand and part,

smile, And.carries a smile, with a curse be. And for misery ever his purse and low!

tear. If ever a heart made bright amends Touched to the heart by that solemn For the fatal fault of an erring toll, head

I calmly sunk in my chains again ; Go, learn his fame from the lips of While, still as I said, 'Heaven rest his friends,

soul !' In the orphan's tear be his glory My mates of the dungeon sighed, read.

Amen !'

'I Never give a kiss,' says Prue,

'To naughty man, for I abhor it.' She will not give a kiss 'tis true,

She'll take one though, and thank you for it.

To no one Muse does she her glance incline,
But has an eye at once to all the nine.


COME, come,' said Tom's father, at your time of life,

There's no longer excuse for thus playing the rake-
It is time you should think, boy, of taking a wife.'--

"Why so it is, father,—whose wife shall I take ?

LIKE a snuffers this loving old dame,

By a destiny grievous enough,
Though so oft she has snapped at the flame,

Hath never caught more than the snuff.

Of all speculations the market holds forth,

The best that I know, for a lover of pelf,
Is to buy

up, at the price he is worth,
And then sell him at that which he gets on himself.


OF all the men one meets about

There's none like Jack, he's everywhere, At church-park-auction--dinner-rout,

Go where and when you will he's there. Try the world's end; he's at your back,

Meets you, like Eurus, in the east:
You're called upon for—'How do, Jack?'

One hundred times a day at least.
A friend of his, one evening, said,

As home he took his pensive way-
Upon my soul, I fear Jack's dead,
I've seen him but three times to-day!'

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IF ever you've seen a gay party

Relieved from the presence of Ned-
How instantly joyous and hearty

They've grown when tlie damper was fled-
You may guess what a gay piece of work,

What delight to champagne it must be
To get rid of its bore of a cork,

And come sparkling to you, love, and me.



Say, oh


It never, never can

So wild a flame approve.
The brilliant black eye

All its joys and pains
May in triumph let fly

To others I resign;
Allits darts, without caring who feels

But be the vacant heart,

The careless bosom mine.
But the soft eye of blue,

Then cease, oh cease to tempt
Though it scatter wounds too,

My tender heart to love ! Is much better pleased when it heals

It never, never can 'em.

So wild a flame approve.
Dear Fanny ! dear Fanny !
The soft eye of blue,

say no more Though it scatter wounds too, That lovers' pains are sweet ! Is much better pleased when it heals I never, never can

Believe the fond deceit.
'em, dear Fanny !

Weeping day and night,
The black eye may say,

Consuming life in sighs,• Come and worship my ray,- This is the lover's lot, By adoring, perhaps you may move And this I ne'er could prize. me !'

Then say, oh say no more
But the blue eye, half bid,

That lovers' pains are sweet!
Says, from under its lid,

I never, never can
I love, and I'm yours if you love me!' Believe the fond deceit.

Dear Fanny ! dear Fanny !
The blue eye, half hid,
Says, from under its lid,

DEAR FANNY. • I love, and am yours if you love me! She has beauty, but still you must keep dear Fanny !

your heart cool; Then tell me, oh! why,

She has wit, but you must not be In that lovely eye,

caught so ; Not a charm of its tint I discover ;

Thus Reason advises, but Reason's a Or why should you wear

fool, The only blue pair

And 'tis not the first time I have That ever said No' to a lover?

thought so,
Dear Fanny ! dear Fanny !

Dear Fanny.
Oh! why should you wear She is lovely! Then love her, por let
The only blue pair

the bliss fly; That ever said 'No' to a lover, dear 'Tis the charm of youth's vanishing Fanny ?

Thus love has advised me, and who


That Love reasons much better than
CEASE, oh cease to tempt

My tender heart to love !

Dear Fanny ?

season :

Viver en Cadenas.

Spring may bloom, but she we loved

Ne'er shall feel its sweetness !

Time, that once so fleetly moved,

Now hath lost its fleetness.

Years were days, when here she strayed, FROM life without freedom, oh! who would not fly?

Days were moments near her;

Heaven ne'er formed a brighter maid, For one day of freedom, oh! who would

Nor Pity wept a dearer! not die ?

Here's the bower she loved so much, Hark !-hark! 'tis the trumpet! the

And the tree she planted; call of the brave,

Here's the harp she used to touchThe death-song of tyrants and dirge of

Oh ! how that touch enchanted ! the slave. Our country lies bleeding-oh! fly to

her aid; One arm that defends is worth hosts HOLY BE THE PILGRIM'S SLEEP.

that invade. From life without freedom, oh! who Holy be the Pilgrim's sleep, would not fly?

From the dreams of terror free; For one day of freedom, oh! who would And may all, who wake to weep, not die ?

Rest to-night as sweet as he !

Hark! hark! did I hear a vesper swell! In death's kindly bosom our last hope No, no—it is my lovèd Pilgrim's remains-

prayer : The dead fear no tyrants, the grave has No, no'twas but the convent bell, no chains !

That tolls upon the midnight air. On, on to the combat ! the heroes that

Holy be the Pilgrim's sleep! bleed

Now, now again the voice I hear; For virtue and mankind are heroes in- Some holy man is wandering near.

deed. And oh! even if Freedom from this O Pilgrim! where hast thou been roamworld be driven,

ing? Despair not-at least we shall find her Dark is the way, and midnight's coming. in heaven.

Stranger, I've been o'er moor and moun. In death's kindly bosom our last hope tain, remains

To tell my beads at Agnes' fountain, The dead fear no tyrants, the grave has And, Pilgrim, say, where art thou going? no chains.

Dark is the way, the winds are blowing.
Weary with wandering, weak, I falter,

To breathe my vows at Agnes' altar.
HERE'S THE BOWER. Strew, then, oh! strew his bed of

rushes; HERE's the bower she loved so much, And the tree she planted;

Here he shall rest till morning blushes. Here's the harp she used to touch

Peace to them whose days are done, Oh ! how that touch enchanted !

Death their eyelids closing ; Roses now unheeded sigh ;

Hark! the burial-rite's begunWhere's the hand to wreathe them? 'Tis time for our reposing. Songs around neglected lie,

Where's the lip to breathe them! Here, then, my Pilgrim's course is o'er ! Here's the bower she loved so much, 'Tis my master ! 'tis my master: And the tree she planted ;

Welcome here once more; Here's the harp she used to touch- Come to our shed-all toil is over;

Oh ! how that touch enchanted ! Pilgrim no more, but knightand lover.


I SAW THE MOON RISE CLEAR. “Why thus in darkness lie ?' whispered

young Love, I saw the moon rise clear

'Thou, whose gay hours should in sunO'er hills and vales of snow,

shine move. Nor told my fleet reindeer

'I ne'er,' said the Dial, 'have seen the The track I wished to go.

warm sun, But quick he bounded forth;

So noonday and midnight to me, Love, For well my reindeer knew

are one.' I've but one path on earthThe path which leads to you, Then Love took the Dial away from the

shade, The gloom that winter cast

And placed her where Heaven's beam How soon the heart forgets !

warmly played. When summer brings, at last,

There she reclined, beneath Love's
The sun that never sets.
So dawned my love for you;

gazing eye,

While, all marked with sunshine, her Thus chasing every pain,

hours flew by. Than summer sun more true,

• Oh ! how,' said the Dial, can any 'Twill never set again.

fair maid, That's born to be shone upou, rest in

the shade ? JOYS THAT PASS AWAY.

But night now comes on, and the sun. Joys that pass away like this,

beam's o'er, Alas! are purchased dear,

And Love stops to gaze on the Dial no If every beam of bliss Is followed by a tear.

Then cold and neglected, while bleak

rain and winds Fare thee well! oh, fare thee well! Soon, too soon thou'st broke the spell.

Are storming around her, with sorrow

she finds Oh! I ne'er can love again

That Love had but numbered a few The girl whose faithless art Could break so dear a chain,

sunny hours, And with it break my heart.

And left the remainder to darkness and

Once, when truth was in those eyes,
How beautiful they shone !

But now that lustre flies,
For truth, alas ! is gone.

'Tis said—but whether true or not Fare thee well ! oh, fare thee well !

Let bards declare who've seen 'emHow I've loved my hate shall tell. Oh! how lorn, how lost would prove

That Love and Time have only got Thy wretched victim's fate,

One pair of wings between 'em. If, when deceived in love,

In courtship's first delicious hour,

The boy full oft can spare 'em,
He could not fly to hate !

So, loitering in his lady's bower,
He lets the gray-beard wear 'em.

Then is Time's hour of play ;
LOVE AND THE SUN-DIAL. Oh! how he flies away!
YOUNG Love found a Dial once, in a But short the moments, short as bright,
dark shade,

When he the wings can borrow ; Where man ne'er had wandered nor If Time to-day has had his flight, sunbeam played ;

Love takes his turn to-morrow.

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