a Sue, the pretty nun, That Love with her ne'er thinks of wings, And Time for ever wears 'em. This is Time's holiday; Oh! how he fies away! Softens to relieve you, LOVE, MY MARY, DWELLS WITH THEE. Love, my Mary, dwells with thee; On thy cheek, his bed I see. No—that cheek is pale with care; Love can find no roses there. 'Tis not on the cheek of rose In my heart his home thou ’lt see; There he lives, and lives for thee. Love, my Mary, ne'er can roam, While he makes that eye his horne. “Why thus in darkness lie ?” whisper'd young Love, “Thou, whose gay hours should in sun-shine move.' No—the eye with sorrow dim Ne'er can be a home for him. "I ne'er," said the Dial,“ have seen the warm sun, Yet, 't is not in beaming eyes Love for ever warmest lies : LOVE'S LIGHT SUMMER CLOUD. That 's born to be shone upon, rest in the shade ?" Pain and sorrow shall vanish before usBut night now comes on, and the sun-beam 's o'er, Youth may wither, but feeling will last; And Love stops to gaze on the Dial no more. And the shadow that e'er shall fall o'er us, Then cold and neglected, while bleak rain and winds Love's light summer-cloud sweetly shall cast. Are storming around her, with sorrow she finds Oh! if to love thee more That Love had but number'd a few sunny hours, Each hour I number o'erAnd left the remainder to darkness and showers ! If this a passion be Worthy of thee, Then be happy, for thus I adore thee. Charms may wither, but feeling shall last : All the shadow that e'er shall fall o'er thee, 'Tis said—but whether true or not Love's light summer-cloud sweetly shall cast. Let bards declare who've seen 'emThat Love and Time have only got Rest, dear bosom! no sorrows shall pain thee, One pair of wings between 'em. Sighs of pleasure alone shalt thou steal; In courtship's first delicious hour, Beam, bright eyelid ! no weeping shall stain thee, The boy full oft can spare 'em. Tears of rapture alone shalt thou feel. Oh! if there be a charm In love, to banish harm- If pleasure's truest spell Be to love well, Then be happy, for thus I adore thee. Charms may wither, but feeling shall last : All the shadow that e'er shall fall o'er thee, Love's 's light summer-cloud sweetly shall cast. Ah! Time and Love! your change is then The saddest and most trying, When one begins to limp again, LOVE, WAND'RING THROUGH THE GOLDEN MAZE. Love, wand'ring through the golden maze Of my beloved's hair, And, doting, linger'd there. His heart was close confined, And every curlet was a tie- A chain by beauty twined. MERRILY EVERY BOSOM BOUNDETH. Chill falls the rain, night winds are blowing, Dreary and dark 's the way we're going. THE TYROLESE SONG OF LIBERTY. Fair Lady! rest till morning blushes- I'll bless thy name at Agnes' fountain. Then, Pilgrim, turn, and rest thy sorrow; Thou 'lt go to Agnes' shrine to-morrow. Good stranger, when my beads I'm telling, My saint shall bless thy leafy dwelling. Strew, then, oh! strew our bed of rushes; Here we must rest till morning blushes. MERRILY every bosom boundeth, Merrily, oh! merrily, oh! Shed more splendour, Shine more tender- Merrily, oh! merrily, oh! Wearily, oh! wearily, oh! Hath no fleetness, Hath no sweetness- OH! REMEMBER THE TIME. THE CASTILIAN MAID. Oh! remember the time, in La Mancha's shades, When our moments so blissfully flew; And I blush'd to be call'd so by you. And to dance to the light castanet; The delight of those moments forget. Cheerily then from hill and valley, Cheerily, oh! cheerily, oh! Won by bravery, Sigh'd in slavery, Cheerily, oh! cheerily, oh! They tell me, you lovers from Erin's green isle Every hour a new passion can feel, And that soon, in the light of some lovelier smile, You ’ll forget the poor maid of Castile. But they know not how brave in the battle you are, Or they never could think you would rove; For 't is always the spirit most gallant in war That is fondest and truest in love! NOW LET THE WARRIOR. Now let the warrior plume his steed,, And wave his sword afar; For the men of the East this day shall bleed, And the sun shall blush with war. Victory sits on the Christian's helm To guide her holy band : The Knight of the Cross this day shall whelm The men of the Pagan land. Oh! bless'd who in the battle dies ! God will enshrine him in the skies! Now let the warrior plume his steed, And wave his sword afar, For the men of the East this day shall bleed, And the sun shall blush with war. OH! SEE THOSE CHERRIES. Oh! see those cherries—though once so glowing, They've lain too long on the sun-bright wall; And mark! already their bloom is going; Too soon they ’ll wither, too soon they 'll fall. Once, caught by their blushes, the light bird flew round, Oft on their ruby lips leaving love's wound But now he passes them, ah! too knowing To taste wither'd cherries, when fresh may be found Old Time thus fleetly his course is running ; wrong! Would wither if left on the rose-tree too long. Then love while thou 'rt lovely-e'en I should be glad So sweetly to save thee from ruin so sad; But, oh! delay not-we bards are too cunning To sigh for old beauties when young may be had. OH, LADY FAIR! Oh, Lady fair ! where art thou roaming ? The sun has sunk, the night is coming. Stranger, I go o'er moor and mountain, To tell my beads at Agnes' fountain. And who is the man, with his white locks flowing ? Oh, Lady fair! where is he going? A wand'ring Pilgrim, weak, I falter, To tell my beads at Agnes' altar. OH! SOON RETURN! The white sail caught the evening ray, The wave beneath us seem'd to burn, Like the shadows of morning, Love lessens away, While Friendship, like those at the closing of day, Will linger and lengthen as Life's sun goes down. a When all my weeping love could say Was, “Oh! soon return !" Through many a clime our ship was driven, O'er many a billow rudely thrown; Now chill'd beneath a northern heaven, Now sunn'd by summer's zone : Yet still, where'er our course we lay, When evening bid the west wave burn, I thought I heard her faintly say, “Oh! soon return !-Oh! soon return !" If ever yet my bosom found Its thoughts one moment turn'd from thee, 'T was when the combat raged around, And brave men look'd to me. Love's gentle power might not appear, Which made even danger dear. The hearts where rage had ceased to burn, I heard that farewell voice once more, “Oh! soon return !-Oh! soon return !" ONE DEAR SMILE. First I sigh'd for thee; Oh ! how blissful life would be ! Joys, that lie in slumber coldAll would wake, couldst thou but give me One dear smile like those of old. Oh! there's nothing left us now, But to mourn the past; Vain was every ardent vowNever yet did Heaven allow Love so warm, so wild, to last. Not even hope could now deceive me Life itself looks dark and cold : Oh! thou never more canst give me One dear smile like those of old. Without thy smile how joylessly All glory's meeds I see! Must owe its bloom to thee. For me have now no charms; My only world's thy radiant eyes My throne those circling arms ! Oh! yes, so well, so tenderly Thou 'rt loved, adored by me, Whole realms of light and liberty Were worthless without thee, Any thing else I can do for you, Keadh mille faltha, and welcome, Put up an Ave or two for you, Fear'd that you'd ever to hell come. If you.confess you're a rogue, I will turn a deaf ear, and not care for 't; Bid you put pease in your brogue, But just tip you a hint to go barefoot. Then get along with, etc. OH! YES, WHEN THE BLOOM. Oh! yes, when the bloom of Love's boyhood is o'er, He'll turn into friendship that feels no decay ; And, though Time may take from him the wings he once wore, The charms that remain will be bright as before, And he'll lose but his young trick of flying away. Then let it console thee, if Love should not stay, That Friendship our last happy moments will If you've the whiskey in play, To oblige you, I'll come take a smack of it, Stay with you all night and day, Ay, and twenty-four hours to the back of it Oh! whiskey 's a papist, God save it! The beads are upon it completely ; But I think before ever we'd leave it, We'd make it a heretic neatly. Then get along with, etc. If you're afear'd of a Banshee, Or Leprochauns are not so civil, dear, Let Father Luke show his paunch, he Will frighten them all to the devil, dear. crown: It 's I that can hunt them like ferrets, And lay them without any fear, gra; But for whiskey, and that sort of spirits, Why them-I would rather lay here,' gra. Then get along with, etc. But evening came, o'ershading The glories of the sky, From Passion's alter'd eye. THE PROBABILITY. My heart is united to Chloe's for ever, No time shall the link of their tenderness sever , And, if Love be the parent of joy and of pleasure, Sure Chloe and I shall be blest beyond measure. Come, tell me, my girl, what's the sweetest of blisses! “I'll show you," she cries, and she gives me sweet kisses ; Ah, Clo! if that languishing eye 's not a traitor It tells me you know of a bliss that is greater. “Indeed and I do not;"—then softly she blushes, And her bosom the warm tint of modesty Alushes“ I'm sure if I knew it, I'd certainly show it, But, Damon, now Damon, dear, may be you know it! SEND THE BOWL ROUND MERRILY. Send the bowl round merrily, Laughing, singing, drinking; Toast it, toast it cheerily Here's to the devil with thinking ! Oh ! for the round of pleasure, With sweetly-smiling lassesGlasses o'erflowing their measure, With hearts as full as our glasses. Send the bowl round merrily, Laughing, singing, drinking; Toast it, toast it cheerily Here's to the devil with thinking! Once I met with a funny lass, Oh! I loved her dearly ! Left for her my bonny glass Faith! I died for her-nearly. And thought to peck like a hen, sir; Then send the bowl, etc. In love with every petticoat; No matter whom it may cover, Or whether it's Jenny's or Betty's coat; And, if the girls can put up With any good thing in pieces, Then send the bowl, etc. Here's to the girl with the blue eyes! Where the languishing dew lies! Be summ'd in one little measure, Then send the bowl, etc. THE SONG OF WAR. Till not one hateful link remains Till not one tyrant tread our plains, No! never till that glorious day Or hear, oh Peace! thy welcome lay Till Victory's self shall, smiling, say, And Freedom comes with new-born ray, Oh! never till that glorious day Or hear, oh Peace! thy welcome lay THE DAY OF LOVE. Stole o'er the mountain brook Affection's early look. And o'er the valley stream As passion's riper dream. THE TABLET OF LOVE. You bid me be happy, and bid me adieuCan happiness live when absent from you? Will sleep on my eyelids e'er sweetly alight, When greeted no more by a tender good night? Oh, never ! for deep is the record enshrined; Thy look and thy voice will survive in my mind : Though age may the treasures of memory remove, Unfading shall flourish the Tablet of Love. Through life's winding valley—in anguish, in rest, Exalted in joy, or by sorrow depress'dFrom its place in the mirror that lies on my heart, Thine image shall never one moment depart. When time, life, and all that poor mortals hold dear Like visions, like dreams, shall at last disappear, Though raised among seraphs to realms above, Unfading shall flourish the Tablet of Love i l'utting his hand on his paunch. And thou too, on that orb so clear, Ah! dost thou gaze at even, And think, though lost for ever here, Thou'lt yet be mine in heaven? THE YOUNG ROSE. The young rose which I give thee, so dewy and bright, Was the floweret most dear to the sweet bird of night, Who oft by the moon o'er her blushes hath hung, And thrill'd every leaf with the wild lay he sung. Oh! take thou this young rose, and let her life be Prolong'd by the breath she will borrow from thee! For, while o'er her bosom thy soft notes shall thrill, She'll think the sweet night-bird is courting her still. There's not a garden walk I tread, There's not a flower I see, love! Some joy I've lost with thee, love! When, friends and foes forgiven, The pains, the ills we've wept through here, May turn to smiles in heaven! WILL YOU COME TO THE BOWER? Will you come to the bower I have shaded for you? Our bed shall be roses all spangled with dew. Will you, will you, will you, will you Come to the bower? WHEN IN LANGUOR SLEEPS THE HEART. WHEN MIDST THE GAY I MEET. That blessed smile of thine, I scarce can call it mine : Your secret tears you show, And claim them as they flow. The gay, the cold, the free; But keep your tears for me. Can smile with many a beam, How bright soe'er it seem. Whose touch is fire, appears, And, melting, turns to tears. The gay, the cold, the free; But keep your tears for me. YOUNG JESSICA. Young Jessica sat all the day, In love-dreams languishingly pining, Her needle bright neglected lay, Like truant genius idly shining. Jessy, 't is in idle hearts That love and mischief are most nimble; The safest shield against the darts Of Cupid, is Minerva's thimble. A child who with a magnet play'd, And knew its winning ways so wily, The magnet near the needle laid, And laughing said, “We'll steal it slily.” The needle, having nought to do, Was pleased to let the magnet wheedle, Till closer still the tempter drew, And off, at length, eloped the needle. WHEN TWILIGHT DEWS. When twilight dews are falling soft Upon the rosy sea, love! I watch the star, whose beam so oft Has lighted me to thee, love! Now, had this needle turn'd its eye To some gay Ridicule's construction, It ne'er had stray'd from duty's tie, Nor felt a magnet's sly seduction. Girls, would you keep tranquil hearts, Your snowy fingers must be nimble; The safest shield against the darts Of Cupid, is Minerva's thimble. |