To those we love we've drank to-night;

But now attend, and stare not,

While I the ampler list recite

Of those for whom WE CARE NOT.

For royal men, howe'er they frown,
If on their fronts they bear not
That noblest gem that decks a crown,
The People's Love-WE CARE NOT.

ERASM. Adag

For slavish men, who bend beneath
A despot yoke, yet dare not

Pronounce the will, whose very breath
Would rend its links-WE CARE NOT.

For priestly men, who covet sway

And wealth, though they declare not; Who point, like finger-posts, the way They never go—WE CARE NOT.

For martial men, who on their sword,
Howe'er it conquers, wear not
The pledges of a soldier's word,
Redeem'd and pure-WE CARE NOT.

For legal men, who plead for wrong,
And, though to lies they swear not,
Are hardly better than the throng
Of those who do-WE CARE NOT.

For courtly men, who feed upon

The land, like grubs, and spare not The smallest leaf, where they can sun Their crawling limbs-WE CARE NOT.

For wealthy men, who keep their mines
In darkness hid, and share not
The paltry ore with him who pines.
In honest want-WE CARE NOT.

For prudent men, who hold the power
Of Love aloof, and bare not
Their hearts in any guardless hour
To Beauty's shaft-WE CARE NOT.

For all, in short, on land or sea,

In camp or court, who are not, Who never were, or e'er will be

Good men and true-WE CARE NOT.

THE DAY OF LOVE.

THE beam of morning trembling
Stole o'er the mountain brook,
With timid ray resembling

Affection's early look.

Thus love begins-sweet morn of love!

The noon-tide ray ascended,
And o'er the valley's stream
Diffus' a glow as splendid

As passion's riper dream.

Thus love expands-warm noon of love?

But evening came, o'ershading

The glories of the sky,

Like faith and fondness fading

From passion's alter'd eye.

Thus love declines-cold eve of love!

FANNY, DEAREST.

YES! had I leisure to sigh and mourn,
Fanny, dearest, for thee I'd sigh;
And every smile on my cheek should turn
To tears when thou art nigh.

But, between love, and wine, and sleep,

So busy a life I live,

That even the time it would take to weep
Is more than my heart can give.
Then wish me not to despair and pine,
Fanny, dearest of all the dears!

The Love that's order'd to bathe in wine,
Would be sure to take cold in tears.

Reflected bright in this heart of mine,
Fanny, dearest, thy image lies;

But, ah the mirror would cease to shine,
If dimm'd too often with sighs.
They lose the half of beauty's light,
Who view it through sorrow's tear;
And 'tis but to see thee truly bright

That I keep my eye-beams clear.
Then wait no longer till tears shall flow-
Fanny, dearest! the hope is vain;
If sunshine cannot dissolve thy snow,
I shall never attempt it with rain.

How happy, once, though wing'd with sighs, My moments flew along,

While looking on those smiling eyes,

And list'ning to thy magic song!
But vanish'd now, like summer dreams,
Those moments smile no more;

For me that eye no longer beams,

That song for me is o'er.

Mine the cold brow,

That speaks thy alter'd vow,

While others feel thy sunshine now.

Oh, could I change my love like thee,
One hope might yet be mine-

Some other eyes as bright to see,

And hear a voice as sweet as thine: But never, never can this heart

Be wak'd to life again;

With thee it lost its vital part,

And wither'd then!

Cold its pulse lies,

And mute are ev'n its sighs,

All other grief it now defies.

CUPID ARMED.

PLACE the helm on thy brow,
In thy hand take the spear;
Thou art arm'd, Cupid, now,

And thy battle-hour is near.

March on march on thy shaft and bow
Were weak against such charms;
March on march on so proud a foe

Scorns all but martial arms.

See the darts in her eyes,

Tipt with scorn, how they shine'
Ev'ry shaft, as it flies,

Mocking proudly at thine.

March on march on thy feather'd darts.
Soft bosoms soon might move;

But ruder arms to ruder hearts
Must teach what 'tis to love.
Place the helm on thy brow ;

In thy hand take the spear,-
Thou art arm'd, Cupid, now,
And thy battle-hour is near.