Ah! Time and Love! your change is then The saddest and most trying, Then is Love's hour to stray; But there's a nymph-whose chains I feel, And bless the silken fetterWho knows-the dear one!-how to deal With Love and Time much better. And Time for ever wears 'em. LOVE, MY MARY, DWELLS LOVE, my Mary, dwells with thee; Love, my Mary, n'er can roam, In my heart his home thou'lt see; of LOVE'S LIGHT SUMMER CLOUD. PAIN and sorrow shall vanish before usYouth may wither, but feeling will last; All the shadow that e'er shall fall o'er us, Love's light summer-cloud sweetly shall cast. Oh! if to love thee more Each hour I number o'erIf this a passion be Worthy of thee, Then be happy, for thus I adore thee. Charms may wither, but feeling shall last: All the shadow that e'er shall fall o'er thee, Love's light summer-cloud sweetly shall cast. Rest, dear bosom! no sorrow shall pain thee, Sighs of pleasure alone shalt thou steal; Beam, bright eyelid! no weeping shall stain thee, Tears of rapture alone shalt thou feel. In love, to banish harm- Then be happy, for thus I adore thee. Charms may wither, but feeling shall last: All the shadow that e'er shall fall o' thee, Love's light summer-cloud sweetly shall cast. LOVE, WANDERING THROUGH maze Of my beloved's hair, Traced every lock with fond delays, And, doting, lingered there. And soon he found 'twere vain to fly; His heart was close confined, And every curlet was a tieA chain by beauty twined. MERRILY EVERY BOSOM THE TYROLESE SONG OF LIBERTY. MERRILY every bosom boundeth, Merrily, oh merrily, oh! Where the song of Freedom soundeth, Merrily, oh! merrily, oh! There the warrior's arms Shed more splendour, Every joy the land surroundeth, Wearily every bosom pineth, There the maiden's heart Hath no sweetness- Cheerily then from hill and valley, Round the flag of Freedom rally, And who is the man, with his white locks flowing? Oh, Lady fair! where is he going? Dreary and dark's the way we're going. Fair Lady! rest till morning blushes- I'll bless thy name at Agnes' fountain. Then, Pilgrim, turn, and rest thy sorrow; Thou'lt go to Agnes' shrine to-morrow. Good stranger, when my beads I'm telling, My saint shall bless thy leafy dwelling. Strew, then, oh! strew our bed of rushes; 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 Castilian maids, And I blushed to be called so by you. When I taught you to warble the gay seguadille, And to dance to the light castanet; Oh! never, dear youth, let you roam where you will, The delight of those moments forget. They tell me, you lovers from Erin's green isle And that soon, in the light of some Every hour a new passion can feel, lovelier smile, You'll forget the poor maid of Castile. But they know not how brave in the battle you are, Or they never could think you would OH! SOON RETURN! THE white sail caught the evening ray, The wave beneath us seemed to burn, When all my weeping love could say Was, 'Oh! soon return!' Through many a clime our ship was driven, O'er many a billow rudely thrown; Now chilled beneath a northern heaven, Now sunned by summer's zone : 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 return!' And even the wreath of victory For me have now no charms; Thou'rt loved, adored by me, OH! YES, WHEN THE BLOOM. ОH! yes, when the bloom of Love's boyhood is o'er, He'll turn into friendship that feels no decay; And though Time may take from him the wings he once wore, The charms that remain will be bright as before, And he'll lose but his young trick of flying away. Then let it console thee, if Love should not stay, That Friendship our last happy moments will crown: Like the shadows of morning, Love lessens away, While Friendship, like those of the closing of day, Will linger and lengthen as Life's sun goes down. ONE DEAR SMILE. COULDST thou look as dear as when First I sighed for thee; Couldst thou make me feel again Oh! how blissful life would be! me One dear smile like those of old. 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 : But when to me alone Your secret tears you show, Oh! then I feel those tears my own, And claim them as they flow. Then still with bright looks bless Give smiles to those who love you less, The gay, the cold, the free; But keep your tears for me. The snow on Jura's steep Can smile with many a beam, Yet still in chains of coldness sleep, How bright soe'er it seem. But when some deep-felt ray, Whose touch is fire, appears, Oh! then the smile is warmed away, And, melting, turns to tears. |