I know not if my heart retains,
Its wonted warmth or not;
Though I'm forbid to think of thee,
Thou'lt never be forgot.
May'st thou enjoy that peace of mind,
Which I can never know,
If that's denied, my prayer shall be,
That I may share thy woe.
Where'er thou art my every wish,
Will linger o'er that spot,
My every thought will be of thee,
Though I may be forgot.
If we should meet in after years,
Thou'lt find that I am changed;
My eyes grow dim, my cheeks grow pale,
But not my faith estrang'd:
From mem'ry's page the hand of death,
Alone thy name shall blot,
Forget, forsake me, if thou wilt,
Thou'lt never be forgot.
My own blue bell, my pretty blue bell!
I never will rove where roses dwell:
My wings you view of your own bright hue,
And oh! never doubt that my heart's true blue.
Though oft, I own, I have foolishly flown
To peep at each bud that was newly blown.
I now have done with folly and fun,
For there's nothing like constancy under the sun.
My own blue bell! my pretty blue bell!
I never will rove where roses dwell;
My wings you view of your own bright hue,
And oh never doubt but my heart's true blue.
Some Belles and Blues, invoking the Muse,
And talking of vast intellectual views;
Their crow-quill's tip in the ink they dip,
And they prate with the lore of a learned lip.
Blue bells like these may be wise as they please,
But I love my own blue bell that bends in the breeze.
Pride passes her by-but she charms my eye
With a tint, that resembles a cloudless sky.
My own blue bell! my pretty blue bell!
I never will rove where roses dwell;
My wings you view of your own bright hue,
And oh never doubt that my heart's true blue.
THE VOICE OF HER I LOVE.
How sweet at close of silent eve,
The harp's responsive sound,
How sweet the vows that ne'er deceive,
And deeds by virtue crown'd;
How sweet to sit beneath a tree,
In some delightful grove,
But ah! more soft, more sweet to me,
The voice of her I love.
Whene'er she joins the village train,
To hail the new-born day;
Mellifluous notes compose each strain,
Which zephyrs waft away:
The frowns of fate I calmly bear,
In humble sphere I move,
Content and blest whene'er I hear
The voice of her I love.
SHE'S all my fancy painted her, she's lovely, she's divine,
her heart it is another's, it never can be mine;
Yet I have lov'd as man ne'er lov'd, a love without
Oh! my heart, my heart is breaking for the love of Alice Gray.
Her dark brown hair is braided on a brow of spotless
Her soft blue eye now languishes, now flushes with
The hair is braided not for me, the eye is turned
Yet my heart, my heart is breaking for the love of Alice Gray.
I've sunk beneath the summer's sun, and trembled in the blast,
But my pilgrimage is nearly done, the weary conflict's past,
And when the green sod wraps my grave, may pity
Oh! his heart, his heart is broken for the love of Alice Gray.
YOUNG Love flew to the Paphian bower,
And gather'd sweets from many a flower,
From roses and sweet jessamine,
The lily and the eglantine.
The graces there were culling posies,
And found young love among the roses.
O, happy day, O, joyous hour!
Compose a wreath of every flower;
Let's bind him to us, ne'er to sever,
Young love shall dwell with us for ever.
Eternal spring the wreath composes,
Content is love among the roses.
ADIEU! adieu !-my native shore
Fades o'er the waters blue,
The night-winds sigh, the breakers roar,
And shrieks the wild sea-mew.
Yon sun that sets upon the sea,
We follow in his flight;
Farewell awhile to him and thee,
My native land, good night!
With thee, my bark, I'll swiftly go
Athwart the foaming brine;
Nor care what land thou bear'st me to-
So not again to mine.
Welcome, welcome, ye dark blue waves,
And, when ye fail my sight,
Welcome, ye deserts and ye caves,
My native land good night.
BE mine, dear maid; my faithful heart
Can never prove untrue;
"Twere easier, far, from life to part,
Than cease to live for you.
My soul, gone forth from this lone breast,
Lives only, love, in thine;
There is its only home of rest,
Its dear, its chosen shrine.
Then turn thee not away, my dear,
Oh! turn thee not away, love;
For by the light of truth I swear
To love thee night and day, love.
'Tis not mine eye thy beauty loves,
Mine ear thy tuneful voice;
But 'tis my heart, thy heart approves,
A life enduring choice.
The lark shall first forget to sing,
When morn unfolds the east,
Ere I by change or coldness wring
Thy fond confiding breast.
Then turn thee not away, my dear, &c.
Он, never doubt my love, thy sorrows I'll banish : And sweet shall I sing, while the night flies away; And ere the wild gloom o'er the mountains shall va
Thou❜lt sink on my pillow, and sleep till the day.
Oh, never doubt my love.
Oh, never doubt my love, its fondness shall bless thee, "Twill soothe thee whene'er by the rude world op
And if the cold hand of misfortune should press thes The angel of pity you'll find in my breast.
WHY how now, Madam Flirt,
If you thus must clatter,
And are for flinging dirt,
Let's try who best can spatter,
Madame Flirt!
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