ALL THAT'S BRIGHT MUST FADE

[INDIAN AIR.]

ALL that's bright must fade, —

The brightest still the fleetest;

All that s sweet was made,

But to be lost when sweetest.
Stars that shine and fall;

The flower that drops in springing ;--
These, alas! are types of all

To which our hearts are clinging.

All that's bright must fade, —
The brightest still the fleetest;

All that's sweet was made

But to be lost when sweetest!

Who would seek or prize

Delights that end in aching?

Who would trust to ties

That every hour are breaking?
Better far to be

In utter darkness lying,

Than to be bless'd with light and see

That light forever flying.

All tna's bright must fade,

The brightest still the fleetest;

All that's sweet was made

But to be lost when sweetest!

REASON, FOLLY AND BEAUTY

[ITALIAN AIR.]

REASON, and Folly, and Beauty, they say,
Went on a party of pleasure one day:
Folly play'd

Around the maid,

The bells of his cap rung merrily out;
While Reason took

To his sermon-book

Oh! which was the pleasanter no one need doubt, Which was the pleasanter no one need doubt.

Beauty, who likes to be thought very sage,
Turn'd for a moment to Reason's dull page,
Till Folly said,

"Look here, sweet maid!".

-

The sight of his cap brought her back to herself; While heason read

His leaves of lead,

With no one to mind him, poor sensible elf!
No, no one to mind him, poor sensible elf·

Then Reason grew jealous of Folly's gay cap
Had he that on, he her heart might entrap -
"There it is,"

Quoth Folly, "old quiz!"

(Folly was always good-natured, 't is said,) "Under the sun

There's no such fun,

As Reason with my cap and bells on his head,
Reason with my cap and bells on his head!"

But Reason the head-dress so awkwardly wore, That Beauty now liked him still less than before: While Folly took

Old Reason's book,

And twisted the leaves in a cap of such ton,
That Beauty vow'd

(Though not aloud)

She liked him still better in that than his own, Yes,-liked him still better in that than his own.

THOSE EVENING BELLS.

[AIR. THE BELLS OF ST. PETERSBURGH.]

THOSE evening bells! those evening bells!
How many a tale their music tells,
Of youth, and home, and that sweet time,
When last I heard their soothing chime.

Those joyous hours are pass'd away;
And many a heart, that then was gay,
Within the tomb now darkly dwells,
And hears no more those evening bells.

And so 't will be when I am gone;
That tuneful peal will still ring on,

While other bards shall walk these dells,
And sing your praise, sweet evening bells!

THERE COMES A TIME.

[GERMAN AIR.]

THERE comes a time, a dreary time,
To him whose heart hath flown
O'er all the fields of youth's sweet prime,
And made each flower its own.

"T is when his soul must first renounce
Those dreams so bright, so fond;
Oh! then's the time to die at once,
For life has naught beyond.

When sets the sun on Afric's shore,
That instant all is night;

And so should life at once be o'er,
When Love withdraws his light;
Nor, like our northern day, gleam on
Throngh twilight's dim delay,
The cold remains of lustre gone.

Of fire long pass'd away

LOVE AND HOPE

{SWISS AIR.]

AT norn, beside yon summer sea,
Young Hope and Love reclined;
But scarce had noontide come, when Le
Into his bark leap'd smilingly,

66

And left poor Hope behind.

"I go," said Love, "to sail awhile

Across this sunny main;

And then so sweet his parting smile,
That Hope, who never dream'd of guile,
Believed he 'd come again.

She linger'd there till evening's beam
Along the waters lay;

And o'er the sands, in thoughtful dream,
Oft traced his name, which still the stream
As often wash'd away.

At length a sail appears in sight,

And tow'rds the maiden moves!

Tis Wealth that comes, and gay and bright,

His golden bark reflects the light,

But ah! it is not Love's.