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All under the tree,

Thy bed may be,
And thou may’st slumber peacefully.

Maiden! once gay pleasure knew thee,

Now thy cheeks are pale and deep,
Love has been a felon to thee;
Yet, poor maiden, do not weep :

There's rest for thee,

All under the tree,
Where thou wilt sleep, most peacefully.

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O! who rides by night through the woodlands so wild?
It is the fond father, embracing his child,
And close the boy nestles within his lov'd arm,
From the blast of the tempest to keep himself warm.

* It is necessary the reader should be informed that in the legends of Danish superstition, certain mischievious spirits are supposed to preside over the different elements, and to amuse themselves with inflicting calamities of

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“O wilt thou go with me, thou loveliest child ?
By many gay sports shall thy hours be beguil'd;
My mother keeps for thee many a fair toy,
And many a fair dower shall she pluck for my boy!"

“O father! O father! and did you not hear

The Erle-King whisper so close in my ear ?" • Be still, my lov'd darling, my child, be at ease, It was but the wild blast, as it howl'd through the trees.'

The Phantom.

“ O wilt thou go with me, thou loveliest boy ?
My daughter shall tend thee with care and with joy,
She shall bear thee so lightly thro' wet and thro' wild,
And hug thee, and kiss thee, and sing to my child !"

man. One of these is termed the Water-King, another the Fire King, and a third the Cloud-King. The hero of this piece is the Erle or Oak-Kinga fiend who is supposed to dwell in the recesses of the forest, and thence to issue forth upon the benightcd traveller to lure him to his destruction,

" O father! O father! and saw you not plain
The Erle-King's pale daughter glide past thro' the rain?"
• O no, my heart's treasure; I knew it full soon,
It was the grey willow that danc'd to the moon.'

The Phantom.

“ Come with me, come with me, no longer delay,
Dr else, silly child, I will drag thee away."
“O father! © father! now, now keep your hold,
The Erle-King has seized me,-bis grasp is so cold."

Sore trembled the father, he spurr'd thro' the wild,
Clasping close to his bosom his shuddering child,
He reaches his dwelling, in doubt and in dread,
But, clasp'd to his bosom, the infant is dead.

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When “ Friendship, Love, and Truth” abound

Among a band of Brothers,
The cup of joy goes gaily round,

Each shares the bliss of others :
Composed for a Society whose motto was's Friendship, Love, and Truth."

Sweet roses grace the thorny way,

Along this vale of sorrow :
The flowers that shed their leaves to-day,

Shall bloom again to-morrow :
How grand in age, how fair in youth,
Are holy Friendship, Love, and Truth!

On halcyon wings our moments pass,

Life's cruel cares beguiling
Old Time lays down his scythe and glass,

In gay good humour smiling :
With ermine beard and forelock grey,

His reverend front adorning,
He looks like winter turn’d to May,

Night soften'd into morning!
How grand in age, how fair in youth,
Are boly Friendship, Love, and Truth !

From these delightful fountains flow

Ambrosial rills of pleasure :
Can man desire, can heaven bestow,

A more resplendent treasure ?
Adorn’d with gems so richly bright,

We'll form a constellation,
Where every star, with modest light,

Shall gild his proper station :
How grand in age, how fair in youth,
Are holy Friendship, Love, and Truth:

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Time, Midnight ;-Starting from a disturbed Sharaber.


Stay, glorious pageant, stay! it flies ! it fades !
'Tis darkness all -
Poor rushen mat, art thou my regal chair ?
Imperial robe, ah! chang’d to herdsman's weeds;
Of all his heritage not so much earth
As build's a grave, remains to fallen Alfred
Oh England ! Mother dear the Danish sword
Hath pierc'd thy heart. Thou bleed'st to death.


Oh England ! my mother, thy zone thou entwinest,

Thy robe flows dishevell thy locks fall unbound. On liberty's lap-thy pale head thou reclinest,

And sadly, yet smilingly, points to thy wound. Come away, is thy song, come away to thy grave, In death there's a country left free for the brate.

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