BLACK AND BLUE EYES.

THE brilliant black eye

May in triumph let fly

All its darts, without caring who feels 'em ;
But the soft eye of blue,
Though it scatter wounds too,

Is much better pleased when it heals 'em.
Dear Fanny! dear Fanny!

The soft eye of blue,

Though it scatter wounds too,

Then say, oh say no more

That lovers' pains are sweet.

I never, never can

Believe the fond deceit.

DEAR FANNY.

SHE has beauty, but still you must keep your heart

cool;

She has wit, but you must not be caught so;

CEASE, OH CEASE TO TEMPT!
CEASE, oh cease to tempt
My tender heart to love!
It never, never can

So wild a flame approve.

All its joys and pains
To others I resign;

But be the vacant heart,

The careless bosom mine.

Then cease, oh cease to tempt

My tender heart to love!

It never, never can

So wild a flame approve.

Say, oh say no more

That lovers' pains are sweet!

I never, never can

Believe the fond deceit.
Weeping day and night,
Consuming life in sighs,-
This is the lover's lot,

And this I ne'er could prize.

And 't is not the first time I have thought so,

Dear Fanny.

"She is lovely!" Then love her, nor let the bliss fly; "T is the charm of youth's vanishing season: Thus Love has advised me, and who will deny That Love reasons much better than Reason, Dear Fanny?

DID NOT.

"T WAS a new feeling-something more
Than we had dared to own before,
Which then we hid not, which then we hid not
We saw it in each other's eye,

And wish'd, in every murmur'd sigh,
To speak, but did not; to speak, but did not.

She felt my lips' impassion'd touch-
'Twas the first time I dared so much,
And yet she chid not, and yet she chid not;
But whisper'd o'er my burning brow,
"Oh! do you doubt I love you now?"
Sweet soul! I did not; sweet soul! I did not.

Warmly I felt her bosom thrill, I press'd it closer, closer still, Though gently bid not, though gently bid not; Till-oh! the world hath seldom heard Of lovers, who so nearly err'd,

And yet who did not, and yet who did not.

FANNY, DEAREST!

OH! had I leisure to sigh and mourn,

Fanny, dearest! for thee I'd sigh; And every smile on my cheek should turn To tears, when thou art nigh.

But, between love, and wine, and sleep,

So busy a life I live,

That even the time it would take to weep
Is more than my heart can give
Then bid me not despair and pine,
Fanny, dearest of all the dears!
The love, that's order'd to bathe in wine,
Would be sure to take cold in tears.

FROM LIFE WITHOUT FREEDOM. FROM life without freedom, oh! who would not fly? For one day of freedom, oh! who would not die? Hark! hark! 't is the trumpet! the call of the brave, The death-song of tyrants and dirge of the slave. Our country lies bleeding-oh! fly to her aid; One arm that defends is worth hosts that invade. From life without freedom, oh! who would not fly? For one day of freedom, oh! who would not die?

In death's kindly bosom our last hope remains-
The dead fear no tyrants, the grave has no chains!
On, on to the combat! the heroes that bleed
For virtue and mankind are heroes indeed.
And oh! even if Freedom from this world be driven,
Despair not-at least we shall find her in heaven.
In death's kindly bosom our last hope remains-
The dead fear no tyrants, the grave has no chains.

I CAN NO LONGER STIFLE.

I CAN no longer stifle,

How much I long to rifle
That little part
They call the heart
Of you, you lovely trifle !
You can no longer doubt it,
So let me be about it;
Or on my word,

And by the Lord,

I'll try to do without it.

Oh! how lorn, how lost would prove

Thy wretched victim's fate,

If, when deceived in love,

He could not fly to hate!

This pretty thing's as light, Sir,
As any paper kite, Sir,

And here and there,

And God knows where,

She takes her wheeling flight, Sir.
Us lovers, to amuse us,
Unto her tail she nooses;
There, hung like bobs

Of straw, or nobs,

She whisks us where she 'chuses.

I SAW THE MOON RISE CLEAR.

I SAW the moon rise clear

O'er hills and vales of snow,

Nor told my fleet rein-deer
The track I wish'd to go.
But quick he bounded forth;
For well my rein-deer knew
I've but one path on earth-

The path which leads to you.

The gloom that winter cast

How soon the heart forgets! When summer brings, at last, The sun that never sets. So dawn'd my love for you; Thus chasing every pain, Than summer sun more true, "T will never set again.

High flames the sword in his hand once more;
The clang of mingling arms

Is then the sound that charms,
And brazen notes of war, by thousand trumpets roar.
Oh! then comes the harp, when the combat is over-
When heroes are resting, and joy is in bloom-
When laurels hang loose from the brow of the lover,
And Cupid makes wings of the warrior's plume.

Light went the harp when the War-god, reclining, Lay lull'd on the white arm of Beauty to rest— When round his rich armour the myrtle hung twining, And flights of young doves made his helmet their

nest.

But, when the battle came,

The hero's eye breathed flame:

Soon from his neck the white arm was flung;
While to his wakening ear

No other sounds were dear,

But brazen notes of war, by thousand trumpets sung. But then came the light harp, when danger was ended, And Beauty once more lull'd the War-god to rest; When tresses of gold with his laurels lay blended, And flights of young doves made his helmet thei.

nest.

JOYS THAT PASS AWAY.

Joys that pass away like this,
Alas! are purchased dear,

If every beam of bliss

Is follow'd by a tear.

Fare thee well! oh, fare thee well!
Soon, too soon thou'st broke the spell.
Oh! I ne'er can love again
The girl whose faithless art
Could break so dear a chain,

And with it break my heart.

Once, when truth was in those eyes,
How beautiful they shone;
But now that lustre flies,

For truth, alas! is gone.

Fare thee well! oh, fare thee well!
How I've loved my hate shall tell

LITTLE MARY'S EYE. LITTLE Mary's eye

Is roguish, and all that, Sir;

But her little tongue

Is quite too full of chat, sir. Since her eye can speak

Enough to tell her blisses, If she stir her tongue,

Why-stop her mouth with kisses! Oh! the little girls,

Wily, warm, and winning; When the angels tempt us to it, Who can keep from sinning?

Nanny's beaming eye
Looks as warm as any;
But her cheek was pale-
Well-a-day, poor Nanny!
Nanny, in the field,

She pluck'd a little posie, And Nanny's pallid cheek Soon grew sleek and rosy.

Oh! the little girls, etc

Sue, the pretty nun,

Prays with warm emotion;

Sweetly rolls her eye

In love or in devotion.

If her pious heart

Softens to relieve you,

She gently shares the crime,

With, "Oh! may God forgive you!"

Oh! the little girls,

Wily, warm, and winning;

When angels tempt us to it,

Who can keep from sinning?

LOVE AND THE SUN-DIAL.

YOUNG Love found a Dial once, in a dark shade, Where man ne'er had wander'd nor sun-beam play'd; "Why thus in darkness lie?" whisper'd young Love, "Thou, whose gay hours should in sun-shine move." "I ne'er," said the Dial, "have seen the warm sun, So noonday and midnight to me, Love, are one."

Then Love took the Dial away from the shade,
And placed her where Heaven's beam warmly play'd.
There she reclined, beneath Love's gazing eye,
While, all mark'd with sun-shine, her hours flew by.
"Oh! how," said the Dial, " can any fair maid,
That's born to be shone upon, rest in the shade?"
But night now comes on, and the sun-beam's o'er,
And Love stops to gaze on the Dial no more.
Then cold and neglected, while bleak rain and winds
Are storming around her, with sorrow she finds
That Love had but number'd a few sunny hours,
And left the remainder to darkness and showers!

LOVE AND TIME.

'TIS said-but whether true or not
Let bards declare who 've seen 'em-
That Love and Time have only got
One pair of wings between 'em.
In courtship's first delicious hour,
The boy full oft can spare 'em.
So, loitering in his lady's bower,
He lets the gray-beard wear 'em.
Then is Time's hour of play;
Oh! how he flies away!

But short the moments, short as bright,
When he the wings can borrow;

If Time to-day has had his flight,

Love takes his turn to-morrow.
Ah! Time and Love! your change is then
The saddest and most trying,
When one begins to limp again,

And t' other takes to flying.
Then is Love's hour to stray;
Oh! how he flies away!

But there's a nymph-whose chains I feel,
And bless the silken fetter-

Who knows-the dear one!-how to deal
With Love and Time much better.
So well she checks their wanderings,
So peacefully she pairs 'em,

That Love with her ne'er thinks of wings,

And Time for ever wears 'em.

This is Time's holiday;

Oh! how he flies away!

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
Love can find the best repose:
In my heart his home thou 'It see;
There he lives, and lives for thee.

Love, my Mary, ne'er can roam,
While he makes that eye his home.
No-the eye with sorrow dim
Ne'er can be a home for him.
Yet, 't is not in beaming eyes
Love for ever warmest lies:
In my heart his home thou 'It see;
There he lives, and lives for thee.

LOVE'S LIGHT SUMMER CLOUD.
PAIN and sorrow shall vanish before us—
Youth may wither, but feeling will last;
And the shadow that e'er shall fall o'er us,
Love's light summer-cloud sweetly shall cast.
Oh! if to love thee more

Each hour I number o'er-
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,

Love's light summer-cloud sweetly shall cast.

Rest, dear bosom! no sorrows shall pain thee,
Sighs of pleasure alone shalt thou steal;
Beam, bright eyelid! no weeping shall stain thee,
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 light summer-cloud sweetly shall cast.

LOVE, WAND'RING THROUGH THE
GOLDEN MAZE.

LOVE, wand'ring through the golden maze
Of my beloved's hair,

Traced every lock with fond delays,

And, doting, linger'd there.

And soon he found 't were vain to fly;
His heart was close confined,
And every curlet was a tie-.

A chain by beauty twined.