FLOW ON, THOU SHINING RIVER.

[PORTUGUESE AIR.}

FLOW on, thou shining river;
But, ere thou reach the sea,
Seek Ella's bower, and give her
The wreaths I fling o'er thee.
And tell her thus, if she 'll be mine

The current of our lives shall be,
With joys along their course to shine,
Like those sweet flowers on thee.

But if, in wand'ring thither,

Thou find'st she mocks my prayer,
Then leave those wreaths to wither-
Upon the cold bank there;

And tell her thus, when youth is o'er,
Her lone and loveless charms shall be
Thrown by upon life's weedy shore,
Like those sweet flowers from thee.

GO. THEN-TIS VAIN.

Go, tnen

[SICILIAN AIR.]

- 't is vain to hover

Thus round a hope that's dead;

At length my dream is over;

-'t was false -'t is fled!

Farewell! since naught it moves thee,

Such truth as mine to see

Some one, who far less loves thee,
Perhaps more bless'd will be.

Farewell, sweet eyes, whose brightness New life around me shed;

Farewell, false heart, whose lightness

Now leaves me death instead.

Go, now,

those charms surrender

To some new lover's sigh

One who, though far less tender
May be more bless'd than I.

WHERE SHALL WE BURY OUR SHAME

[NEAPOLITAN AIR.]

WHERE shall we bury our shame?
Where, in what desolate place,
Hide the last wreck of a namo

Broken and stain'd by disgrace?
Death may dissever the chain,

Oppression will cease when we're gone

But the dishonor, the stain,

Die as we may, will live on.

Was it for this we sent out
Liberty's cry from our shore?
Was it for this that her shout

Thrill'd to the world's very core?
Thus to live cowards and slaves!
Oh, ye free hearts that lie dead,
Do you not, ev'n in your graves,
Shudder, as o'er you we tread?

TAKE hence the bowl;-though beaming

Brightly as bowl e'er shone,

Oh, it but sets me dreaming
Of happy days now gone.
There, in its clear reflection,
As in a wizard's glass,
Lost hopes and dead affection,
Like shades, before me pass.

Each cup I drain brings hither
Some scenes of bliss gone by;
Bright lips, too bright to wither,
Warm hearts, too warm to die.
Till, as the dream comes o'er me
Of those long-vanish'd years,
Alas, the wine before me
Seems turning all to tears!

31*

HARK! TIE VESPER HYMN IS STEALING.

[RUSSIAN AIR.]

HARK! the vesper hymn is stealing
O'er the waters soft and clear;
Nearer yet and nearer pealing,
And now bursts upon the ear:
Jubilate, Amen.

Farther now, now farther stealing,
Soft it fades upon the ear:
Jubilate, Amen.

Now, like moonlight waves retreating
To the shore, it dies along;

Now, like angry surges meeting

Breaks the mingled tide of sorg:

Jubilate, Amen.

Hush! again, like waves, retreating

To the shore, it dies along.
Jubilate, Amen.