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So whate'er cold reasons thoughts instil,
As men 'tis not above us,

Nor beneath our scope in joy to hope
That those we love will love us.

One heart that truly loves is worth

The earth, the ocean's treasureThe hollow tones of transient mirth Give no such lasting pleasure; What better toast

Then can we boast,

Or with greater joy be drinking,
Than this I give,

That while we live

And have the power of thinking,

If light and joy around us shine,
Or darkness lour above us,

If our love be placed with truth and taste,
That those we love will love us.

LINES.

As the streamlet to its fountain
May never more return-
So man, for childhood's purity,
May vainly sigh and yearn.

But calmly from its birth-place

The flood still loves to flowWhile man's rough path is clouded With bitterness and woe.

And as that stream flows onward,
Bearing upon its breast
The leaves which storms autumnal
Have scattered in unrest-

So cares, on man's brief journey,
Fall on his weary heart;

As the stream of life flows onward,

They never will depart!

THE

MEETING OF THE FAIRIES.

Time-MIDNIGHT. Scene-A VALLEY

FIRST FAIRY.

BRING flowers! bring flowers!
Her path to perfume,

Refreshened by showers,

And glowing with bloom.

Ye'll gather the fairest

In bower and shade,

The sweetest, the rarest

The soonest to fade!

The violets blooming,

Where none else are found

The moss rose perfuming

The desert around;

Oh, seek them wherever
Their perfume is shed,
Where mortal's foot never

Hath ventured to tread.

The QUEEN of the FAIRIES
Descends upon earth-
That place where all care is,
And absence of mirth :

She chooses the valley

Where flowers are born,

Her forces to rally,

Ere peeping of morn.

CHORUS OF FAIRIES.

Where the sweetest flowers dwell
We will haste, we know them well;
Where the dew-drops love to rest,
Pillowed on a rose's breast-

Where ourselves are wont to creep
When gaudy day inclines to sleep!

QUEEN OF THE FAIRIES.

In the midnight time, by the calm moonlight, Our fairy hearts take a rich delight;

We wander forth, and we feel a deep bliss,
Which is only known in an hour like this;
The mild wind breathes like a lover's sigh,
Or like a stream that flows murmuring by;
The nightingale chaunts its mournful strain
(It may be of joy, but it seems like pain)
As it comes in night stillness with melody fraught,
Like a sound from an angel's lyre caught;
Our spirits seem like the waves that dance
In restless joy 'neath the moon's calm glance;
We reck not of sorrow, we never knew care-
Existence to us is a pleasure to bear;
We revel in bands while the moonlight reigns-
We rule on the vallies, we glide o'er the plains-
Or we link ourselves with the sea-nymphs bands,
And sport in wild joy by the ocean's sands:
But of all the feelings with pleasure rife
That gladden the hours of fairy life,

We feel the purest, the deepest delight,
When we wander forth in the stilly night,

And by man's silent couch our vigils keep,
And mark well the dreams that disturb his sleep;
In the poet's ear, as the visions play
Around his bright soul in splendid array,
To his ardent hopes, oh we love to breathe
Of future renown and the laurel wreath;
While the fancied clouds of battle roll
In the warrior's dream o'er his youthful soul,
We whisper to him that the scroll of fame

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