Viver en Cadenas. FROM LIFE WITHOUT FROM life without freedom, oh! who would not fly? For one day of freedom, oh! who would not die? Hark!―hark! 'tis the trumpet! the call of the brave, The death-song of tyrants and dirge of the slave. Our country lies bleeding-oh! fly to her aid; One arm that defends is worth hosts that invade. From life without freedom, oh! who would not fly? For one day of freedom, oh! who would not die? In death's kindly bosom our last hope remains- The dead fear no tyrants, the grave has no chains! On, on to the combat! the heroes that bleed For virtue and mankind are heroes indeed. And oh! even if Freedom from this world be driven, Despair not-at least we shall find her in heaven. In death's kindly bosom our last hope remains The dead fear no tyrants, the grave has no chains. HERE'S THE BOWER. HERE'S the bower she loved so much, And the tree she planted; Here's the harp she used to touchOh how that touch enchanted! Roses now unheeded sigh; Where's the hand to wreathe them? Songs around neglected lie, Where's the lip to breathe them! Here's the bower she loved so much, And the tree she planted; Here's the harp she used to touch Oh how that touch enchanted! Spring may bloom, but she we loved Ne'er shall feel its sweetness! Time, that once so fleetly moved, Now hath lost its fleetness. Years were days, when here she strayed, Days were moments near her; Heaven ne'er formed a brighter maid, Nor Pity wept a dearer! Here's the bower she loved so much, And the tree she planted; Here's the harp she used to touchOh how that touch enchanted! HOLY BE THE PILGRIM'S SLEEP. HOLY be the Pilgrim's sleep, From the dreams of terror free; And may all, who wake to weep, Rest to-night as sweet as he! Hark! hark! did I hear a vesper swell! No, no-it is my lovèd Pilgrim's prayer: No, no-'twas but the convent bell, Holy be the Pilgrim's sleep! O Pilgrim! where hast thou been roaming? Dark is the way, and midnight's coming. Stranger, I've been o'er moor and mountain, To tell my beads at Agnes' fountain, And, Pilgrim, say, where art thou going? Dark is the way, the winds are blowing. Weary with wandering, weak, I falter, To breathe my vows at Agnes' altar. Strew, then, oh! strew his bed of rushes; Here he shall rest till morning blushes. Peace to them whose days are done, Here, then, my Pilgrim's course is o'er! 'Tis my master! 'tis my master: Welcome here once more; Come to our shed-all toil is over; 'Why thus in darkness lie?' whispered young Love, "Thou, whose gay hours should in sunshine move. 'I ne'er,' said the Dial, 'have seen the warm sun, So noonday and midnight to me, Love, are one.' Then Love took the Dial away from the shade, And placed her where Heaven's beam warmly played. There she reclined, beneath Love's gazing eye, While, all marked with sunshine, her hours flew by. 'Oh! how,' said the Dial, 'can any fair maid, That's born to be shone upon, rest in the shade?' LOVE AND TIME. "TIS said-but whether true or not Let bards declare who've seen 'emThat Love and Time have only got One pair of wings between 'em. In courtship's first delicious hour, The boy full oft can spare 'em, But short the moments, short as bright, Love takes his turn to-morrow. 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, 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'e 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 BOUNDETH. 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, O'er many a billow rudely thrown; If ever yet my bosom found Its thoughts one moment turned from thee, 'Twas when the combat raged around, And brave men looked to me. But though 'mid battle's wild alarm Love's gentle power might not appear, He gave to glory's brow the charm Which made even danger dear. And then, when victory's calm came o'er The hearts where rage had ceased to burn, I heard that farewell voice once more, 'Oh! soon return!-Oh! soon return!' OH! YES, SO WELL. OH! yes, so well, so tenderly Thou'rt loved, adored by me, Life's cup before me lay, Thou'rt loved, adored by me, Without thy smile how joylessly All glory's meeds I see! And even the wreath of victory For me have now no charms; OH! YES, WHEN THE BLOOM. OH! 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 Couldst thou make me feel again Oh how blissful life would be! me One dear smile like those of old. |