WHEN FIRST THAT SMILE.

Venetian Air.

WHEN first that smile, like sunshine, bless'd my sight,

Oh! what a vision then came o'er me! Long years of love, of calm and pure delight,

Seem'd in that smile to pass before me.

Ne'er did the peasant dream, ne'er dream of summer skies,

Of golden fruit and harvests springing,
With fonder hope than I of those sweet eyes,
And of the joy their light was bringing.

Where now are all those fondly promised hours?
Oh! woman's faith is like her brightness,
Fading as fast as rainbows or day-flowers,

Or aught that 's known for grace and lightness. Short as the Persian's prayer, his prayer at close of day, Must be each vow of Love's repeating;

Quick let him worship Beauty's precious ray-
Even while he kneels that ray is fleeting!

PEACE TO THE SLUMBERERS !

Catalonian Air.

PEACE to the slumberers!

They lie on the battle plain, With no shroud to cover them;

The dew and the summer rain Are all that weep over them.

Vain was their bravery!

The fallen oak lies where it lay, Across the wintry river;

But brave hearts, once swept away, Are gone, alas! for ever.

Woe to the conqueror!

Our limbs shall lie as cold as theirs Of whom his sword bereft us,

Ere we forget the deep arrears Of vengeance they have left us!

WHEN THOU SHALT WANDER.

Sicilian Air.

WHEN thou shalt wander by that sweet light
We used to gaze on so many an eve,
When love was new and hope was bright,
Ere I could doubt or thou deceive-
Oh! then, remembering how swift went by
Those hours of transport, even thou mayst sigh.

Yes, proud one! even thy heart may own That love like ours was far too sweet To be, like summer garments, thrown Aside when past the summer's heat; And wish in vain to know again

Such days, such nights, as bless'd thee then.

WHO 'LL BUY MY LOVE KNOTS?
Portuguese Air.

HYMEN late, his love-knots selling,

Call'd at many a maiden's dwelling:
None could doubt, who saw or knew them,
Hymen's call was welcome to them.

« Who 'll buy my love-knots?
Who 'll buy my love-knots?»>
Soon as that sweet cry resounded,
How his baskets were surrounded!

Maids who now first dream'd of trying
These gay knots of Hymen's tying;
Dames, who long had sat to watch him
Passing by, but ne'er could catch him;-

« Who 'll buy my love-knots?

Who 'll buy my love-knots?»>

All at that sweet cry assembled;

Some laugh'd, some blush'd, and some trembled.

<< Here are knots,» said Hymen, taking
Some loose flowers, « of Love's own making;
Here are gold ones-you may trust 'em-
(These, of course, found ready custom).
« Come buy iny love-knots!
Come buy my love-knots!

Some are labell'd 'Knots to tie men'-
'Love the maker'-' Bought of Hymen.'»

Scarce their bargains were completed,
When the nymphs all cried, « We 're cheated!
See these flowers-they 're drooping sadly;
This gold-knot, too, ties but badly-

Who'd buy such love-knots?
Who'd buy such love-knots?

Even this tie, with Love's name round it-
All a sham-he never bound it.»

In garb, then, resembling
Some gay gondolier,

I'll whisper thee, trembling,
<< Our bark, love, is near:
Now, now, while there hover
Those clouds o'er the moon,
"T will waft thee safe over
Yon silent Lagoon.»>

GO, NOW, AND DREAM.

Sicilian Air.

Go, now, and dream o'er that joy in thy slumber-
Moments so sweet again ne'er shalt thou number.
Of Pain's bitter draught the flavour never flies,
While Pleasure's scarce touches the lip ere it dies!

That moon, which hung o'er your parting, so splendid,
Often will shine again, bright as she then did-
But, ah! never more will the beam she saw burn
In those happy eyes at your meeting return.

TAKE HENCE THE BOWL.
Neapolitan Air.

TAKE hence the bowl; though beaming
Brightly as bowl e'er shone,
Oh! it but sets me dreaming

Of days, of nights 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 friend who once sat 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,
Then, then the cup before me
Seems turning all to tears.

WHEN THROUGH THE PIAZZETTA.

Venetian Air.

WHEN through the Piazzetta
Night breathes her cool air,

Then, dearest Ninetta,

I'll come to thee there. Beneath thy mask shrouded,

I'll know thee afar,

As Love knows, though clouded, Dis own Evening Star.

FAREWELL, THERESA!

Venetian Air.

FAREWELL, Theresa! that cloud which over
Yon moon this moment gath'ring we see,
Shall scarce from her pure orb have pass'd, ere thy lover
Swift o'er the wide wave shall wander from thee.

Long, like that dim cloud, I 've hung around thee,
Dark'ning thy prospects, sadd'ning thy brow;
With gay heart, Theresa, and bright cheek I found thee;
Oh! think how changed, love, how changed art thou
now!

But here I free thee: like one awaking

From fearful slumber, this dream thou 'It tell; The bright moon her spell too is breaking,

Past are the dark clouds; Theresa, farewell!

HOW OFT, WHEN WATCHING STARS.

Savoyard Air.

How oft, when watching stars grow pale,

And round me sleeps the moonlight scene, To hear a flute through yonder vale

I from my casement lean.

«Oh! come, my love!» each note it utters seems to say;
<< Oh! come, my love! the night wears fast away!»
No, ne'er to mortal ear

Can words, though warm they be,
Speak Passion's language half so clear
As do those notes to me!

Then quick my own light lute I seek,

And strike the chords with loudest swell;
And, though they nought to others speak,
He knows their language well.

<< I come, my love?» each sound they utter seems to say; << I come, my love! thine, thine till break of day.»>

Oh! weak the power of words,

The hues of painting dim,

Compared to what those simple chords
Then say and paint to him.

"T IS WHEN THE CUP IS SMILING.
Italian Air.

'Tis when the cup is smiling before us,

And we pledge round to hearts that are true, boy, true, That the sky of this life opens o'er us,

And Heaven gives a glimpse of its blue.

Talk of Adam in Eden reclining,

We are better, far better off thus, boy, thus; For him but two bright eyes were shining

See what numbers are sparkling for us!

When on one side the grape-juice is dancing,

And on t' other a blue eye beams, boy, beams, 'T is enough, 't wixt the wine and the glancing, To disturb even a saint from his dreams. Though this life like a river is flowing, I care not how fast it goes on, boy, on, While the grape on its bank still is growing, And such eyes light the waves as they run.

WHEN THE FIRST SUMMER BEE.

German Air.

WHEN the first summer bee

O'er the young rose shall hover,

Then, like that gay rover,

I'll come to thee.

He to flowers, I to lips, full of sweets to the brim

What a meeting, what a meeting for me and him!

Then, to every bright tree

In the garden he'll wander,
While I, oh! much fonder,
Will stay with thee.

In search of new sweetness through thousands he 'll run,
While I find the sweetness of thousands in one.

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 name

Broken and stain'd by disgrace?

Death may dissever the chain,

Oppression will cease when we're gone;

But the dishonour, 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 slavesOh! ye free hearts that lie dead! Do you not, e'en in your graves, Shudder, as o'er you we tread?

THOUGH 'T IS ALL BUT A DREAM.

French Air.

THOUGH 't is all but a dream, at the best,
And still when happiest soonest o'er,
Yet, even in a dream to be bless'd

Is so sweet, that I ask for no more.
The bosom that opes with earliest hopes
The soonest finds those hopes untrue,
As flowers that first in spring-time burst,
The earliest wither too!

Ay-t is all but a dream, etc. By friendship we oft are deceived,

And find the love we clung to past;
Yet friendship will still be believed,

And love trusted on to the last.
The web in the leaves the spider weaves

Is like the charm flope hangs o'er men;
Though often she sees it broke by the breeze,
She spins the bright tissue again.
Ay-t is all but a dream, etc.

NE'ER TALK OF WISDOM'S GLOOMY SCHOOLS!

Mahratta Air.

NE'ER talk of Wisdom's gloomy schools!
Give me the sage who 's able
To draw his moral thoughts and rules
From the sunshine of the table;-
Who learns how lightly, fleetly pass
This world and all that 's in it,
From the bumper that but crowns his glass,
And is gone again next minute.

The diamond sleeps within the mine,
The pearl beneath the water,-

While Truth, more precious, dwells in wine,
The grape's own rosy daughter!
And none can prize her charms like him,
Oh! none like him obtain her,
Who thus can, like Leander, swim
Through sparkling floods to gain her!

So thou, where thousands are,
Dost shine the only star!
No, no, no, no, no!

'Mong them all there is nothing like thee; No, no, no, no!

There is nothing like thee 'mong them all.

KEEP THOSE EYES STILL PURELY MINE. German Air.

KEEP those eyes still purely mine,

Though far off I be;

When they must for others shine,
Then think they 're turn'd on me.

Should those lips, as now, respond
To sweet minstrelsy,

When their accents seem most fond,

Then think they 're breathed for me.

Make what hearts thou wilt thy own,
If, when all on thee

Fix their charmed thoughts alone,
Thou think'st the while on me.

No. VI.

HOPE COMES AGAIN.

Old English Air.

HOPE comes again-to this heart long a stranger;
Once more she sings me her flattering strain:
But hush! gentle syren, for ah! there's less danger
In still suffring on, than in hoping again.

Long, long in sorrow too deep for repining,

Gloomy, but tranquil, this bosom hath lain; And joy, coming now like a sudden light shining O'er eyelids long darken'd, would bring me but pain. Fly, then, ye visions that hope would shed o'er me: Lost to the future, my sole chance of rest Now lies not in dreaming of bliss that's before me, But, ah! in forgetting how once I was blest!

I WOULD TELL HER I LOVE HER.

Italian Air.

I WOULD tell her I love her,
Did I know but the way;
Could my lips but discover

What a lover should say,—
Could my lips but discover

What a lover should say. Though I swear to adore her Every morning I rise,

Yet, when once I'm before her,

All my eloquence flies.

Oh, ye gods! did ye ever

Such a simpleton know?

I'm in love, and yet never

Have the heart to say so,

No, no, ne'er have the heart to say soNo, no, ne'er have the heart to say so.

Having pluck'd up a spirit

One moonshiny night,
Then, thought I, « I'll defer it
Till to-morrow's daylight-
Yes,» thought I, « I'll defer it

Till to-morrow's daylight.»
But, alas! the pale moon-beam
Could not frighten me more,
For I found by the noon-beam
I was dumb as before.
Oh, ye gods! did ye ever

Such a simpleton know?
I'm in love, and yet never

Have the heart to say so.

No, no, ne'er have the heart to say soNo, no, ne'er have the heart to say so.

OH SAY, THOU BEST AND BRIGHTEST.

Oн say,

Spanish Air.

thou best and brightest,

My first love and my last,

When he, whom now thou slightest,

From life's dark scene hath past,

Will kinder thoughts then move thee?
Will pity wake one thrill

For him who lived to love thee,
And, dying, loved thee still?
If, when that hour recalling

From which he dates his woes,
Thou feel'st a tear-drop falling,

Ah blush not while it flows:
But, all the past forgiving,

Bend gently o'er his shrine,
And say, « This heart, when living,
With all its faults, was mine!»>

Though dang'rous oft,

Ne'er wound but in play. And oh, when his wings Have brush'd over my lyre, You'd fancy its strings

Were all turning to fire. Guess who he is

Name but his name, And his best kiss,

For reward, you may claim.

LOVE ALONE.

LIKE ONE, WHO DOOM'D.
Indian Air.

LIKE one, who doom'd o'er distant seas

His weary path to measure,

When home at length, with fav'ring breeze,
He brings the far-sought treasure:
His ship, in sight of shore, goes down-
That shore to which he hasted;

And all the wealth he thought his own

Is o'er the waters wasted.

Like him this heart, through many a track
Of toil and sorrow straying,

One hope alone brought fondly back,
Its toil and grief repaying.
Like him, alas! I see that ray

Of hope before me perish,
And one dark minute sweep away
What took whole years to cherish.

FEAR NOT THAT, WHILE AROUND THEE.

French Air.

FEAR not that, while around thee

Life's varied blessings pour, One sigh of hers shall wound thee Whose smile thou seek'st no more.

No, dead and cold for ever

Let our past love remain;

Once gone, its spirit never,

Shall haunt thy rest again. Fear not that, while around thee

Life's varied blessings pour,
One sigh of hers shall wound thee,
Whose smile now charms no more.

May the new ties that bind thee
Far sweeter, happier prove,
Nor e'er of me remind thee,

But by their truth and love.

Think how, asleep or waking,
Thy image haunts me yet;
But, how this heart is breaking,
For thy own peace forget.
Fear not that, while around thee
Life's varied blessings pour,
One sigh of hers shall wound thee,

Whose smile now charms no more.

French Air.

If thou wouldst have thy charms enchant our eyes,
First win our hearts, for there thy empire lies.
Beauty in vain would mount a heartless throne;
Her right divine is given by love alone.

What would the rose, with all her pride, be worth,
Were there no sun to call her brightness forth?
Maidens unloved, like flow'rs in darkness thrown,
Wait but that light which comes from love alone.
Fair as thy charms in yonder glass appear,
Ah! trust them not-they 'll fade from year to year.
Wouldst thou still have them shine as first they shone,
Go fix thy mirror in love's eyes alone.

THE GARLAND 1 SEND THEE.
Italian Air.

THE garland I send thee was cull'd from those bow'rs
Where thou and I wander'd, in long vanish'd hours.
Not a leaf or a blossom its bloom here displays,
But bears some remembrance of those happy days.

The roses were gather'd by that garden gate, Where our meetings, though early, seem'd always too late;

Where, ling'ring full oft, through a summer night's

moon,

Our partings, though late, appear'd always too soon.

The rest were all cull'd from the banks of that glade, Where, watching the sunset, so often we 've stray'd, And mourn'd, as the time flew, that love had no pow'r To bind in his chain even one happy hour.

HOW SHALL I WOO?
Italian Air.

IF I speak to thee in friendship's name,
Thou think'st I talk too coldly;

If I mention love's devoted flame,
Thou say'st I speak too boldly.
Between these two unequal fires
Why doom me thus to hover?
I'm a friend, if such thy heart requires;
If more thou seek'st,-a lover.
Which shall it be? how shall I woo?
Fair one, chuse between the two.

Though the wings of Love will brightly play
When first he comes to woo thee,

There's a chance that he may fly away,

As fast as he flies to thee.

While Friendship, though on foot she come,

No flights of fancy trying,

Will, therefore, oft be found at home,

When Love abroad is flying.

Which shall it be? how shall I woo?

Dear one, chuse between the two.