HUSH, SWEET LUTE.

HUSH, Sweet Lute, thy songs remind me
Of past joys, now turn'd to pain;
Of ties that long have ceas'd to bind me,
But whose burning marks remain!

In each tone, some echo falleth

On my ear of joys gone by; Ev'ry note some dream recalleth

Of bright hopes but born to die.

Yet, sweet Lute, though pain it bring me,
Once more let thy numbers thrill;
Though death were in the strain they sing me,
I must woo its anguish still.

Since no time can e'er recover

Love's sweet light when once 'tis set,

Better to weep such pleasures over,

Than smile o'er any left us yet.

THE SONG OF THE OLDEN TIME.

THERE'S a song of the olden time,
Falling sad o'er the ear,

Like the dream of some village chime,
Which in youth we lov'd to hear.
And ev'n amidst the grand and gay,
When Music tries her gentlest art,

I never hear so sweet a lay,

Or one that hangs so round my heart, As that song of the olden time,

Falling sad o'er the ear,

Like the dream of some village chime,

Which in youth we lov'd to hear.

And when all of this life is gone,-
Ev'n the hope, ling'ring now,
Like the last of the leaves left on

Autumn's sere and faded bough.

"Twill seem as still those friends were near, Who lov'd me in youth's early day, If in that parting hour I hear

The same sweet notes, and die away,To that song of the olden time,

Breath'd, like Hope's farewell strain,

To say, in some brighter clime,

Life and youth will shine again!

LIGHTLY, Alpine rover,

Tread the mountains over;

Rude is the path thou'st yet to go;

Snow cliffs hanging o'er thee,

Fields of ice before thee,

While the hid torrent moans below.

Hark, the deep thunder,

Through the vales yonder!

'Tis the huge av'lanche downward cast:

From rock to rock

Rebounds the shock.

But courage, boy! the danger's past.

Onward, youthful rover

Tread the glacier over,

Safe shalt thou reach thy home at last.

On, ere light forsake thee,

Soon will dusk o'ertake thee:

O'er yon ice-bridge lies thy way

Now, for the risk prepare thee;

Safe it yet may bear thee,

Though 'twill melt in morning's ray.

Hark, that dread howling! "Tis the wolf prowling,

Scent of thy track the foe hath got;

And cliff and shore
Resound his roar.

But courage, boy,-the danger's past!
Watching eyes have found thee,
Loving arms are round thee,

Safe hast thou reach'd thy father's cot.

MERRILY every bosom boundeth,
Merrily, oh !

Where the song of Freedom soundeth,
Merrily, oh!

There the warrior's arms

Shed more splendour ;

There the maiden's charms

Shine more tender;

Ev'ry joy the land surroundeth,

Merrily, oh! merrily, oh!

Wearily every bosom pineth,
Wearily, oh!

Where the bond of slavery twineth,
Wearily, oh!

There the warrior's dart

Hath no fleetness;

There the maiden's heart

Hath no sweetness—

Ev'ry flow'r of life declineth,

Wearily, oh wearily, oh!

HERE, take my heart-'twill be safe in thy keeping,
While I go wand'ring o'er land and o'er sea;
Smiling or sorrowing, waking or sleeping,
What need I care, so my heart is with thee?

If, in the race we are destin'd to run, love,
They who have light hearts the happiest be,
Then, happier still must be they who have none, love,
And that will be my case when mine is with thee.

It matters not where I may now be a rover,
I care not how many bright eyes I may see;
Should Venus herself come and ask me to love her,
I'd tell her I couldn't-my heart is with thee.

And there let it lie, growing fonder and fonder-
For, even should Fortune turn truant to me,
Why, let her go-I've a treasure beyond her,
As long as my heart's out at int'rest with thee!

TO-DAY, dearest! is ours;

Why should Love carelessly lose it?
This life shines or lowers

Just as we, weak mortals, use it.
'Tis time enough, when its flow'rs decay,
To think of the thorns of Sorrow;
And Joy, if left on the stem to-day,
May wither before to-morrow.