Then here's to thee, old friend, and long May thou and I thus meet,

To brighten still with wine and song

This short life, ere it fleet.

And still as death comes stealing on,
Let's never, old friend, forget,

Ev'n while we sigh o'er blessings gone,
How many are left us yet.

DREAMING FOR EVER.

DREAMING for ever, vainly dreaming,
Life to the last pursues its flight;
Day hath its visions fairly beaming,
But false as those of night.

The one illusion, the other real,

But both the same brief dreams at last;

And when we grasp the bliss ideal,

Soon as it shines, 'tis past.

Here, then, by this dim lake reposing,

Calmly I'll watch, while light and gloom Flit o'er its face till night is closing

Emblem of life's short doom!

But though, by turns, thus dark and shining, 'Tis still unlike man's changeful day, Whose light returns not, once declining, Whose cloud, once come, will stay. ·

THOUGH LIGHTLY SOUNDS THE SONG I

SING.

A SONG OF THE ALPS.

THOUGH lightly sounds the song I sing to thee,
Though like the lark's its soaring music be,
Thou'lt find ev'n here some mournful note that tells
How near such April joy to weeping dwells.
'Tis 'mong the gayest scenes that oft'nest steal
Those saddening thoughts we fear, yet love to feel;
And music never half so sweet appears,

As when her mirth forgets itself in tears.

Then say not thou this Alpine song is

gay

It comes from hearts that, like their mountain-lay,
Mix joy with pain, and oft when pleasure's breath
Most warms the surface, feel most sad beneath.
The very beam in which the snow-wreath wears
Its gayest smile is that which wins its tears,
And passion's pow'r can never lend the glow
Which wakens bliss, without some touch of woe.

THE RUSSIAN LOVER.

FLEETLY o'er the moonlight snows
Speed we to my lady's bow'r;
Swift our sledge as lightning goes,

Nor shall stop till morning's hour.
Bright, my steed, the northern star
Lights us from yon jewell❜d skies;
But, to greet us, brighter far,
Morn shall bring my lady's eyes.

Lovers, lull'd in sunny bow'rs,

Sleeping out their dream of time, Know not half the bliss that's ours,

In this snowy, icy clime.

Like yon star that livelier gleams

From the frosty heavens around,

Love himself the keener beams

When with snows of

coyness

crown'd.

Fleet then on, my merry steed,

Bound, my sledge, o'er hill and dale; What can match a lover's speed? See, 'tis daylight, breaking pale! Brightly hath the northern star

Lit us from yon radiant skies; But, behold, how brighter far Yonder shine my lady's eyes!

END OF THE FIFTH VOLUME.