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The tear fell gently from her eye,

When last we parted on the shore :
My bosom heav'd with many a sigh,

To think I ne'er might see her more. “ Dear youth,” she cried, “and canst thou haste away. My heart will break, a little moment stay. Alas! I cannot, I cannot part from thee.” “The anchor's weigh'd ; farewell, farewell, remember

me !"
“Weep not, my love," I trembling said,

“ Doubt not a constant heart like mine ;
I ne'er can meet another maid,

Whose charms can fix that heart like thine." “Go then,” she cried, “but let thy constant mind Oft think of her you leave in tears behind, A maid, this last embrace my pledge shall be.” The anchor's weigh'd; farewell, farewell, remember



I WHISPERED her a last adieu,

gave a mournful kiss,
Cold showers of sorrow bathed her eyes,
And her poor heart was torn with sighs ?
Yet, strange to tell, 'twas then I knew

Most perfect bliss.
For love, at other times suppressed,

Was all betrayed at this ;
I saw him, weeping, in her eyes,
I heard him breathe among her sighs ;
And every sob which shook her breast

Thrilled mine with bliss.

The sight which keen affection clears,

How can it judge amiss ? To me 't pictured hope, and taught My spirit this consoling thought,That Love's sun, though it rise in tears,

May set in bliss.


The flaunting flag of liberty,

(Of Gallia's sons the boast) Oh, never may a Briton see

Upon the British coast !
The only flag that Freedom rears,

Her emblem on the seas,
Is the flag that braved a thousand years,

The battle and the breeze!

To aid the trampled rights of man,

And break oppression's chain,
The foremost in the battle's van,

It never floats in vain.
The mariner, where'er he steers,

In every clime he sees,
The flag that's braved a thousand years,

The battle and the breeze!

If all unite as once we did,

To keep her flag unfurld,
Old England still may fearless bid

Defiance to the world!
But fast will flow the nation's tears,

If lawless hands should seize
The flag that's braved a thousand years,

The battle and the breeze!

0, THE ACCENTS OF LOVE. O, THE accents of Love! can they ever again

Speak peace to this desolate soul; When o'er my life's lord the deep floods of the main

Now darkly and mournfully roll ? 0, no ! let them search in my Algernon's grave,

Would they learn where my heart is entombed ; Let them pierce to those chambers beneath the dark

wave, No sun-beam hath ever illumed. But let them not hope to revive it with sighs,

Or reach it with accents of love ; 'Twill mock their endeavours, for, buried, it lies,

With fathomless waters above.


COME, shining forth, my dearest,

With looks of warm delight;
Shed joy as thou appearest,

Like morning beams of light.
Like morning's beam of light, love,

Mild shines thine azure eye!
Thine absence is a night, love,

In which I droop and die.
Oh, let me hear that tongue, love,

Whose music thrills my heart,
Like notes by angels sung, love,

When souls in bliss depart.
And at thy casement rising,

Illume thy ravish'd sight,
Like day the world surprising,

With morning beams of light.


When in death I shall calm recline,

Oh! bear my heart to my mistress dear ; Tell her it liv'd upon smiles and wine

Of the brightest hue while it linger'd here. Bid her not shed one tear of sorrow,

To sully a heart so brilliant and light, But balmy drops of the red grape borrow,

To bathe the relic from morn to night. When the light of my song is o'er,

Then take my harp to your ancient hall, Hang it up at that friendly door,

Where weary trav'llers love to call: Then if some bard who roams forsaken,

Revive its soft notes in passing along, Oh let one thought of its master waken

Your warmest smile for the child of song. Keep this cup, which is now o’erflowing,

To grace your revel when I'm at rest Never, oh never its balm bestowing,

On lips that beauty hath seldom bles But when some warm devoted lover,

To her he loves shall bathe its brim Oh, then my spirit around shall hover,

And hallow each drop that foams for him!

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Far, far from me my lover fties

A faithless lover he:
In vain my tears, in vain my sighs,
No longer true to me,

He seeks another.

Lie still, my heart, no longer grieve,

No pangs to him betray,
Who taught you these sad sighs to heave,
Then laughing went away,

To seek another.


OUR bugles sang truce, for the night-cloud had lower'd,

And the sentinel-stars set their watch in the sky, And thousands had sunk on the ground, overpower'd,

The weary to sleep, and the wounded to die. When reposing that night on my pallet of straw,

By the wolf-scaring faggot, that guarded the slain, In the dead of the night a sweet vision I saw,

And twice, ere the cock crew, I dreamt it again.

Methought from the battle-field's dreadful array,

Far, far I had roamed on a desolate track,
Till nature and sunshine disclosed the sweet way

To the house of my fathers, that welcomed me back. I flew to the pleasant fields, traversed so oft

In life's morning march, when my bosom was young ; I heard my own mountain-goats bleating aloft, And well knew the strain that the corn-reapers


Then pledged we the wine cup, and fondly I swore, From my home and my weeping friends never to

part; My little ones kiss'd me a thousand times o'er,

And my wife sobbed aloud in the fulness of heart. Stay, stay with us, rest—thou art weary and worn!”

And fain was the war-broken soldier to stay ; But sorrow return'd with the dawning of morn,

And the voice of my dreaming ear melted away!


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