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Like her delusive beam,

'Twill steal away thy mind;
But like affection's dream,

It leaves no sting behind!
Come twine the wreath our brows to shade,

These flowers were cull'd at noon;
Like woman's love the rose will fade,
But ah! not half so soon.
For tho' the flow'r's decay'd,

Its fragrance is not o'er;
But once when love's betray'd,

The heart can bloom no more!

SHE is far from the land where her young hero sleeps,

And lovers are round her sighing
But coldly she turns from their gaze and weeps,

For her heart in his grave is lying!
She sings the wild song of her dear native plains,

Ev'ry note which he lov'd awaking-
Ah! little they think, who delight in her strains,

How the heart of the minstrel is breaking!
He had liv'd for his love, for his country he died

They were all that to life had entwin’d him,-
Nor soon shall the tears of his country be dried,

Nor long will his love stay behind him!
Oh! make her a grave, where the sunbeams rest,

When they promise a glorious morrow;
They'll shine o'er her sleep, like a smile from the west,

From her own lov'd Island of sorrow!

THE BUCKET. How dear to this heart are the scenes of my childhood,

When fond recollection recalls them to view

The orchard, the meadow, the deep tangled wild-wood,

And ev'ry lov'd spot which my infancy knew; The wide-spreading pond, and the mill which stood by it,

The bridge, and the rock where the cataract fell, The cot of my father, the dairy-house nigh it,

The old oaken bucket—the iron-bound bucketThe moss cover'd bucket, which hung in the well. That moss-cover'd vessel I hail as a treasure,

For often, at noon, when return'd from the field, I found it the source of an exquisite pleasure,

The purest and sweetest that nature can yield; How ardent I siężd it with hands that were glowing,

And quick to the white pebbled bottom it fell,
Then soon with the emblem of truth overflowing,
And dripping with coolness it rose from the well.

The old oaken bucket, &c.
How sweet from the green mossy brim to receive it,

As poisid on the cord, it inclin’d to my lips, Not a full blushing goblet could tempt me to leave it,

Tho’ fill'd with the nectar that Jupiter sips. And now far remov'd from the lov'd situation,

The tear of regret will intrusively swell, As fancy revisits my father's plantation, And sighs for the bucket which hangs in the well

The old oaken bucket, &c.

Ort in the stilly night,

Ere slumber's chain has bound me,
Fond mem’ry brings the light

Of other days around me;
The smiles, the tears of boyhood's years,

The words of love then spoken,
The eyes that shone, now dimm'd and gone,
The cheerful hearts now broken !

Thu in the stilly night, &c.

When I remember all

The friends so link'd together, I've seen around me fall,

Like leaves in winter weather, I feel like one, who treads alone

Some banquet hall deserted, Whose lights are fled, whose garland 's dead, And all but he deserted.

Thus in the stilly night, &c.

THE CARRIER PIGEON. COME hither thou beautiful rover,

Thou wand’rer of earth and of air; Who bear'st the sighs of the lover,

And bringest him news of his fair. Bend hither thy light waving pinion,

And shew me the gloss of thy neck; 0! perch on my hand, dearest minion,

And turn up thy bright eye and peck. Here's bread of the whitest and sweetest,

And there is a sip of red wine; Though thy wing is the lightest and fleetest,

"Twill be fleeter when nerv'd by the vine; I have written on rose-scented paper,

With thy wing-quill, a soft billet-doux, I have melted the wax in love's taper,

T'is the color of true hearts, sky blue. I have fastend it under thy pinion,

With a blue ribbon round thy soft neck; So go from me, beautiful minion,

While the pure ether shows not a speck. Like a cloud in the dim distance fleeting,

Like an arrow he hurries away; And farther and farther retreating, He is lost in the clear blue of day.

As the sun climbs o'er the hills,

When the sky lark-sings so cheerily

little basket fill,
And trudge along the village merrily
Light my bosom, light my heart,

I but laugh at Cupid's dart;
I keep my mother, myself and brother,

By trudging along to sell my lavender
Ladies try it, come and buy it,

Never saw ye nicer lavender;
Ladies try it, try

Come, come, buy my lavender.
Ere the gentry quit their beds,

Foes to health, I'm wisely keeping it;
Oft I earn my daily bread,

And sit beneath the hedge partaking it.
Ne'er repining, ne'er distress'd,

Tell me then am not I bless'd ?
Tho' not wealthy, I'm young and healthy,
And only care to sell my lavender.

Ladies, try it, &c.

try it,

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To the mountain's wild echo I warble my lays,
And harmless I wander thro’ woods and thro' braes;
The peasant, by moonlight, oft strays o'er the moor,
To welcome the song of the young Troubadour.
0! come to the lattice, and list to my lay;
Wave, wave thy fair hand and bid me to stay;
O! grant but this boon, I ask for no more,
'Twill enliven the song of the young Troubadour.
Then I'll sing the old ditties of heroes that died,
And of maidens like you, for whom lovers have sigh'd

0! hearken then, lady, to-morrow i'm sure You'll welcome the song of the young Troubadour.

I REMEMBER, I remember

The house where I was born,
The little window where

The sun came peeping in at morn;
He never came a wink too soon,

Nor brought too long a day,
But now, I often wish that night

Had borne my breath away!
I remember, I remember

The roses red and white,
The vi’lets and the lily cups,

Those Powers made of light!
The lilacs where the robin built,

And where my brother set
The liburnum on his birth-day-

The tree is living yet!
I remember, I remember

Where I was used to swing,
And thought the air must rush as fresh

To swallows on the wing;
My spirits iew in feathers then,

That are so heavy now,
And summer pools could hardly cool

The fever on my brow.
I rernember, I remember

The fir trees dark and high:
I used to think their slender tops

Were close against the sky:
It was a childish ignorance,

But now 'lis little joy

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