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Viver en Cadenas.

FROM LIFE WITHOUT
FREEDOM.

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,
That tolls upon the midnight air.

Holy be the Pilgrim's sleep!
Now, now again the voice I hear;
Some holy man is wandering near.

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,
Death their eyelids closing;
Hark! the burial-rite's begun—
'Tis time for our reposing.

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;
Pilgrim no more, but knight and lover.

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'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?'

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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,
So, loitering in his lady's bower,
He lets the gray-beard wear 'em.
Then is Time's hour of play;
Oh how he flies away!

But short the moments, short as bright,
When he the wings can borrow;
If Time to-day has had his flight,

Love takes his turn to-morrow.

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The saddest and most trying,
When one begins to limp again,
And t'other takes to flying.

Then is Love's hour to stray;
Oh! how he flies away!

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.
So well she checks their wanderings,
So peacefully she pairs 'em,
That Love with her ne'er thinks
wings,

And Time for ever wears 'em.
This is Time's holiday;
Oh! how he flies away!

LOVE, MY MARY, DWELLS
WITH THEE.

LOVE, my Mary, dwells with thee;
On thy cheek his bed I see.
No-that cheek is pale with care;
Love can find no roses there.
"Tis not on the cheek of rose
Love can find the best repose:
In my heart his home thou'lt see;
There he lives, and lives for thee.

Love, my Mary, n'er can roam,
While he makes that eye his home.
No-the eye with sorrow dim
Ne'er can be a home for him.
Yet, 'tis not in beaming eyes
Love for ever warmest lies:
In my heart his home thou'lt see;
There he lives, and lives for thee,

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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.
Oh! if there be a charm

In love, to banish harm-
If pleasure's truest spell
Be to love well,

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
THE GOLDEN MAZE.
LOVE, wandering through the golden

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,
There the maiden's charms
Shine more tender-

Every joy the land surroundeth,
Merrily, oh! merrily, oh !

Wearily every bosom pineth,
Wearily, oh! wearily, oh!
Where the bond of slavery twineth,
Wearily, oh! wearily, oh!
There the warrior's dart
Hath no fleetness,

There the maiden's heart

Hath no sweetness-
Every flower of life declineth,
Wearily, oh! wearily, oh!

Cheerily then from hill and valley,
Cheerily, oh! cheerily, oh!
Like your native fountains sally,
Cheerily, oh! cheerily, oh!
If a glorious death,
Won by bravery,
Sweeter be than breath
Sighed in slavery,

Round the flag of Freedom rally,
Cheerily, oh! cheerily, oh!

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And who is the man, with his white locks flowing?

Oh, Lady fair! where is he going?
A wandering Pilgrim, weak, I falter,
To tell my beads at Agnes' altar.
Chill falls the rain, night winds are
blowing,

Dreary and dark's the way we're going.

Fair Lady! rest till morning blushes-
I'll strew for thee a bed of rushes.
Oh! stranger! when my beads I'm
counting,

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

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OH! SOON RETURN!

THE white sail caught the evening ray,
The wave beneath us seemed to burn,
When all my weeping love could say
Was, 'Oh! soon return!'
Through many a clime our ship was
driven,

O'er many a billow rudely thrown;
Now chilled beneath a northern heaven,
Now sunned by summer's zone :
Yet still, where'er our course we lay,
When evening bid the west wave burn,
I thought I heard her faintly say,
'Oh! soon return!-Oh! soon re-
turn!'

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,
Fame, fortune, wealth, and liberty,
Were worthless without thee.
Though, brimmed with blisses, pure
and rare,

Life's cup before me lay,
Unless thy love were mingled there,
I'd spurn the draught away,
Oh yes, so well, so tenderly

Thou'rt loved, adored by me,
Fame, fortune, wealth, and liberty,
Are worthless without thee.

Without thy smile how joylessly All glory's meeds I see!

And even the wreath of victory
Must owe its bloom to thee.
Those worlds, for which the conqueror
sighs,

For me have now no charms;
My only world's thy radiant eyes-
My throne those circling arms!
Oh yes, so well, so tenderly
Thou'rt loved, adored by me,
Whole realms of light and liberty
Were worthless without thee.

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
First I sighed for thee;

Couldst thou make me feel again
Every wish I breathed thee then,

Oh how blissful life would be!
Hopes, that now beguiling leave me,
Joys, that lie in slumber cold-
All would wake, couldst thou but give

me

One dear smile like those of old.

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