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OH! SOON RETURN! And even the wreath of victory
Must owe its bloom to thee.
The wave beneath us seemed to burn, sighs,
My only world's thy radiant eyesThrough many a clime our ship was My throne those circling arms ! driven,
Oh ! yes, so well, so tenderly O'er many a billow rudely thrown ; Thču'rt loved, adored by me, Now chilled beneath a northern heaven, Whole realms of light and liberty
Now sunned by summer's zone : Were worthless without thee. Yet still, where'er our course we lay,
When evening bid the west wave burn, I thought I heard her faintly say, *Oh! soon return !-Oh! soon re
OH! YES, WHEN THE BLOOM. turn !
Oh! yes, when the bloom of Love's If ever yet my bosom found
boyhood is o'er, Its thoughts one moment turned from
He'll turn into friendship that feels thee,
no decay; 'Twas when the combat raged around, And though Time may take from him And brave men looked to me.
the wings he once wore, But though 'mid battle's wild alarm The charms that remain will be bright
Love's gentle power might not appear, as before, He gave to glory's brow the charm And he'll lose but his young trick of Which made even danger dear.
flying away. And then, when victory's calm came o'er The hearts where rage had ceased to burn,
Then let it console thee, if Love should I heard that farewell voice once more, • Oh! soon return ! -Oh! soon re
That Friendship our last happy turn !
moments will crown: Like the shadows of morning, Love
While Friendship, like those of the OH! YES, SO WELL.
closing of day,
Will linger and lengthen as Life's sun Oh! yes, so well, so tenderly
Thou’rt loved, adored by me, Fame, fortune, wealth, and liberty,
Were worthless without thee. Though, brimmed with blisses, pure
ONE DEAR SMILE.
COULDST thou look as dear as when
Couldst thou make me feel again
Every wish I breathed thee then, Thou’rt loved, adored by me,
Oh! how blissful life would be ! Fame, fortune, wealth, and liberty, Hopes, that now beguiling leave me, Are worthless without thee,
Joys, that lie in slumber coid
All would wake, couldst thou but give Withont thy smile how joylessly All glory's meeds I see !
One dear smile like those of old.
Oh! there's nothing left us now,
Oh! never till that glorious day But to mourn the past ;
Shall Lusitania's sons be gay, Vain was every ardent vow
Or hear, oh Peace! thy welcome lay Never yet did Heaven allow
Resounding through her sunny moun. Love so warm, so wild, to last.
tains. Not even hope could now deceive me
Life itself looks dark and cold :
THE YOUNG ROSE.
The young rose which I give thee, so
dewy and bright, THE DAY OF LOVE.
Was the floweret most dear to the sweet
bird of night, THE beam of morning trembling Who oft by the moon o'er her blushes Stole o'er the mountain brook,
hath hung, With timid ray resembling
And thrilled every leaf with the wild Affection's early look.
lay he sung Thus love begins-sweet morn of love! The noontide ray ascended,
Oh! take thou this young rose, and let
her life be And o'er the valley stream Diffused a glow as splendid
Prolonged by the breath she will borrow
from thee! As passion's riper dream. Thus love expands-warm noon of love! For while o'er her bosom thy soft notes
shall thrill, But evening came, o'ershading She'll think the sweet night-bird is The glories of the sky,
courting her still ! Like faith and fondness fading
From Passion's altered eye.
WHEN 'MIDST THE GAY I MEET.
THE SONG OF WAR. WHEN ’midst the gay I meet
That blessed smile of thine, The song of war shall echo through our Though still on me it turns most sweet, mountains,
I scarce can call it mine : Till not one hateful link remains
But when to me alone Of slavery's lingering chains
Your secret tears you show, Till not one tyrant tread our plains, Oh! then I feel those tears my own, Nor traitor lip pollute our fountains. And claim them as they flow. No! never till that glorious day
Then still with bright looks bless Shall Lusitania's sons be gay, Or hear, oh Peace! thy welcome lay Give smiles to those who love you less,
The gay, the cold, the free; Resounding through her sunny moun
But keep your tears for me. tains. The song of war shall echo through our The snow on Jura's steep mountains,
Can smile with many a beam, Till Victory's self shall, smiling, say, Yet still in chains of coldness sleep, "Your cloud of foes hath passed away, How bright soe'er it seem. And Freedom comes with new-born But when some deep-felt ray, ray,
Whose touch is fire, appears, To gild your vines and light your foun. Oh! then the smile is warmed away, tains.'
And, melting, turns to tears.
Then still with bright looks bless Now, had this needle turned its eye The gay, the cold, the free !
To some gay Ridicule's construction, Give smiles to those who love you less, It ne'er had strayed from duty's tie, But keep your tears for me,
Nor felt a magnet's sly seduction. Girls, would you keep tranquil hearts,
Your snowy fingers must be nimble;
The safest shield against the darts
WHEN twilight dews are falling soft
OH! SEE THOSE CHERRIES. I watch the star whose beam so oft
Has lighted me to thee, love! Oh! see those cherries,—though once And thou too, on that orb so clear, so glowing, Ah ! dost thou gaze at even,
They've lain too long on the sunAnd think, though lost for ever here, bright wall; Thou'lt yet be mine in heaven? And mark ! already their bloom is
going; There's not a garden walk I tread,
Too soon they'll wither, too soon There's not a flower I see, love !
they'll fall. But brings to mind some hope that's fled, Once caught by their blushes, the light
bird flew round, Some joy I've lost with thee, love ! And still I wish that hour was near,
Oft on their ruby lips leaving Love's
wound; When, friends and foes forgiven, The pains, the ills, we've wept through
But now he passes them, all too here,
knowing May turn to smiles in heaven !
To taste withered cherries, when fresh
may be found.
Old Time thus fleetly his course is
running; YOUNG JESSICA.
If bards were not moral, how maids
would go wrong! YOUNG Jessica sat all the day, In love-dreams languishingly pining,
And thus thy beauties, now sunned
and sunning, Her needle bright neglected lay,
Would wither if left on the rose-tree Like truant genius idly shining.
too long. Jessy, 'tis in idle hearts
Then Love, while thou’rt lovely, e’en I That love and mischief are most
should be glad nimble;
So sweetly to save thee from ruin so The safest shield against the darts Of Cupid, is Minerva's thimble.
But oh, delay not-we bards are too
cunning A child who with a magnet played, To sigh for old beauties, when young
And knew its winning ways so wily,
TO-DAY, DEAREST ! IS OURS.
Why should Love carelessly lose it? Till closer still the tempter drew, This life shines or lours
And off at length eloped the needle. Just as we, weak mortals, use it.
may be had.
'Tis time enough, when its flowers HERE, TAKE MY HEART.
decay, To think of the thorns of Sorrow;
HERE, take my heart, 'twill be safe in And Joy, if left on the stem to-day,
While I go wandering o'er land and May wither before to-morrow. Then why, dearest! so long
Smiling or sorrowing, waking or sleepLet the sweet moments fly over ?
ing, Though now, blooming and young,
What need I care, so my heart is Thou hast me devoutly thy lover.
with thee? Yet time from both, in his silent lapse, If, in the race we are destined to run, Some treasure may steal or borrow;
love, Thy charms may be less in bloom, They who have light hearts the perhaps,
happiest beOr I less in love to.morrow.
Happier still must be they who have
none, love, And that will be my case when mine
is with thee? WHEN ON THE LIP THE SIGH
No matter where I may now be a rover, DELAYS.
No matter how many bright eyes I WHEN on the lip the sigh delays, As if 'twould linger there for ever ;
Should Venus' self come and ask me to When eyes would give the world to gaze,
love her, Yet still look down, and venture
I'd tell her I could not-my heart is
with thee! never; When, though with fairest nymphs we There let it lie, growing fonder and
rove, There's one we dream of more than
And should Dame Fortune turn truant anyIf all this is not real love, 'Tis something wondrous like it, Why,—let her go—I've a treasure beFanny !
As long as my heart's out at interest To think and ponder, when apart,
with thee! On all we've got to say at meeting; And yet when near, with heart to heart,
Sit mute, and listen to their beating : OH! CALL IT BY SOME BETTER To see but one bright object move,
And love is now a worldly flame,
That burns o'er all he sees, When Passion drives us to the west, Awhile as warm, will set as soon, Though prudence to the eastward Oh! call it none of these.
beckons ; When all turns round, below, above, Imagine something purer far,
And our own heads the most of any- More free from stain of clay, If this is not stark, staring love, Than Friendship, Love, or Passion are,
Then you and I are sages, Fanny. Yet human still as they :
And if thy lip for love like this Oh! come and court her hither,
Ye breezes mild and warm-
One winter's gale would wither
So soft, so pure a form.
Are blest with endless light,
With zephyrs always playing POOR WOUNDED HEART!
Through gardens always bright
Then, now, oh May! be sweeter
Than e'er thou'st been before
Let sighs from roses meet her
When she comes near our shore.
Poor wounded heart, farewell !
PALE BROKEN FLOWER ! Less bitter far will be, Than that long, deadly course of PALE broken flower ! what art can now aching,
Torn from the stem that fed thy rosy This life has been to thee
breathPoor breaking heart, poor breaking heart, farewell!
In vain the sunbeams seek
To warm that faded cheek!
The dews of heaven, that once like balm
fell over thee, The pang is o'er
Now are but tears, to weep thy early The parting pang is o'er,
death Thou now wilt bleed no more,
So droops the maid whose lover hath Poor broken heart, farewell !
forsaken her; No rest for thee but dying,
Thrown from his arms, as lone and Like waves whose strife is past,
lost as thou; On death's cold shore thus early lying, In vain the smiles of all Thou sleep'st in peace at last
Like sunbeams round her fall Poor broken heart
, poor broken heart, The only smile that could from death farewell !
awaken her, That smile, alas ! is gone to others
THE EAST INDIAN. COME May, with all thy flowers.
Thy sweetly-scented thorn, Thy cooling evening showers,
Thy fragrant breath at morn : When May-flies haunt the willow,
When May-buds tempt the bee, Then o'er the shining billow
My love will come to me. From Eastern Isles she's winging
Through watery wilds her way, And on her cheek is bringing
The bright sun's orient ray;
THE PRETTY ROSE-TREE. BEING weary of love, I flew to the grove,
And chose me a tree of the fairest; Saying, 'Pretty Rose-tree, thou my
mistress shalt be, I'll worship each bud that thou bearest. For the hearts of this world are
And fickle the smiles we follow;