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BALLADS AND SONGS.
BLACK AND BLUE EYES.
It never, never can
So wild a flame approve.
All its joys and pains
To others I resign;
But be the vacant heart,
The careless bosom mine.
Then cease, oh cease to tempt
My tender heart to love ! Is much better pleased when it heals
It never, never can 'em.
So wild a flame approve.
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.
Weeping day and night,
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
That lovers' pains are sweet!
I never, never can
Dear Fanny ! dear Fanny !
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?
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
will deny CEASE, OH CEASE TO TEMPT.
That Love reasons much better than
Dear Fanny ?
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.
To breathe my vows at Agnes' altar.
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 O'er hills and vales of snow,
'Thou, whose gay hours should in sun
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 earth The 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
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.
beam's o'er, Joys that pass away like this, 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
showers Once, when truth was in those eyes,
How beautiful they shone!
LOVE AND TIME.
'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.
That Love and Time have only got Oh ! how lorn, how lost would prove 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,
So, loitering in his lady's bower,
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,
Ah! Time and Love ! your change is
Oh! if to love thee more then
Each hour I number o'erThe saddest and most trying,
If this a passion be When one begins to limp again,
Worthy of thee, And t'other takes to flying.
Then be bappy, for thus I adore thee. Then is Love's hour to stray ; Charms may wither, but feeling shall Oh! how he flies away!
All the shadow that e'er shall fall o'er But there's a nymph-whose chains I thee, feel,
Love's light summer-cloud sweetly And bless the silken fetter
shall cast. Who knows-the dear one !-how to deal
Rest, dear bosom! no sorrow shall pain With Love and Time much better. thee, So well she checks their wanderings, Sighs of pleasure aloneshalt thou steal;
So peacefully she pairs 'em, Beam, bright eyelid ! no weeping shall That Love with her ne'er thinks of stain thee, wings,
Tears of rapture alone shalt thou feel. And Time for ever wears 'em.
Oh! if there be a charm
In love, to banish harm-
If pleasure's truest spell
Be to love well,
Then be happy, for thus I adore thee. LOVE, MY MARY, DWELLS Charms may wither, but feeling shall WITH THEE.
All the shadow that e'er shall fall o'& LOVE, my Mary, dwells with thee; thee, On thy cheek his bed I see.
Love's light summer-cloud sweetly No—that cheek is pale with care ;
shall cast. Love can find no roses there. 'Tis not on the cheek of rose Love can find the best repose :
LOVE, WANDERING THROUGH In my heart his home thou'lt see;
THE GOLDEN MAZE. There he lives, and lives for thee.
LOVE, wandering through the golden Love, my Mary, n'er can roam,
Of my beloved's hair, While he makes that eye his home.
Traced every lock with fond delays, No-the eye with sorrow dim
And, doting, lingered there.
And soon he found 'twere vain to fly;
His heart was close confined,
And every curlet was a tie-
A chain by beauty twined.
MERRILY EVERY BOSOM LOVE'S LIGHT SUMMER CLOUD.
BOUNDETH. Pain and sorrow shallvanish before us
THE TYROLESE SONG OF LIBERTY. Youth may wither, but feeling will
MERRILY every bosom boundeth, All the shadow that e'er shall fallo'erus, Merrily, oh! merrily, oh! Love's light summer-cloud sweetly Where the song of Freedom soundeth, shall cast.
Merrily, oh ! merrily, oh !
There the warrior's arms And who is the man, with his white
A wandering Pilgrim, weak, I falter, Every joy the land surroundeth, To tell my beads at Agnes' altar. Merrily, oh ! merrily, oh !
Chill falls the rain, night winds are
blowing, Wearily every bosom pineth, Dreary and dark's the way we're going.
Wearily, oh! wearily, oh! Where the bond of slavery twineth,
Fair Lady! rest till morning blushes
I'll strew for thee a bed of rushes.
Oh! stranger! when my beads I'm
counting, There the maiden's heart
I'll bless thy
name at Agnes' fountain. Hath no sweetness
Then, Pilgrim, turn, and rest thy
sorrow; Every flower of life declineth, Wearily, oh! wearily, oh!
Thou'lt go to Agnes’ shrine to-morrow.
Good stranger, when my beads I'm Cheerily then from hill and valley,
telling, Cheerily, oh! cheerily, oh!
My saint shall bless thy leafy dwelling: Like your native fountains sally,
Strew, then, oh! strew our bed of
Here we must rest till morning blushes.
OH! REMEMBER THE TIME,
THE CASTILIAN MAID.
Oh! remember the time, in La Mancha's
shades, When our moments so blissfully flew;
When you called me the flower of CasNOW LET THE WARRIOR.
tilian maids, Now let the warrior plume his steed,
And I blushed to be called so by you. And wave his sword afar ;
When I taught you to warble the gay For the men of the East this day shall seguadille, bleed,
And to dance to the light castapet; And the sun shall blush with war. Oh! never, dear youth, let you roam Victory sits on the Christian's helm where you will, To guide her holy band :
The delight of those moments forget. The Knight of the Cross this day shall They tell me, you lovers from Erin's
whelm The men of the Pagan land. Oh ! blessed who in the battle dies ! And that soon, in the light of some
Every hour a new passion can feel, God will enshrine him in the skies !
lovelier smile, You'll forget the poor maid of Castile. But they know not how brave in the
battle you are, OH, LADY FAIR !
Or they never could think
would Oh, Lady fair! where art thou roaming ? rove ; The sun has sunk, the night is coming. For 'tis always the spirit most gallant Stranger, I go o'er moor and mountain, I
in war To tell my beads at Agnes' fountain. That is fondest and truest in love!