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LOVE'S LIGHT SUMMER CLOUD.
PAIN and sorrow shall vanish before us-
Youth may wither, but feeling will last;
All 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 harmIf 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.

MERRILY EVERY BOSOM BOUNDETH.

THE TYROLESE SONG OF LIBERTY.

MERRILY every bosom boundeth,

Merrily, on! merrily, oh!

Where the Song of Freedom soundeth,
Merrily, oh! merrily, on!

There the warrior's arms
Shed more splendour,
There the maiden's charms

Shine more tender

Every joy the land surroundeth,

Merrily, oh! merrily, oh!

Wearily every bosom pineth,

Wearily, oh! wearily, oh!

Where the bond of slavery twineth, Wearily, oh! wearily, oh!

There the warrior's dart

Hath no fleetness,
There the maiden's heart

Hath no sweetness

Every flower of life declineth,
Wearily, oh! wearily, oh!

Cheerily then from hill and valley,

Cheerily, oh! cheerily, oh!
Like your native fountains sally,
Cheerily, oh! cheerily, oh !
If a glorious death,

Won by bravery,
Sweeter be than breath

Sigh'd in slavery,
Round the flag of Freedom rally,
Cheerily, oh! cheerily, oh!

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.

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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!

OH! SEE THOSE CHERRIES.

On! 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 'il 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;

If bards were not moral, how maids would go wrong!

And thus thy beauties, now sunn'd and sunning,
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! SOON RETURN!

THE white sail caught the evening ray,
The wave beneath us seem'd to burn,
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.

But though 'mid battle's wild alarm

Love's gentle power might not appear, He gave to glory's brow the charm

Which made even danger dear.
And then, when victory's calm came o'er
The hearts where rage had ceased to burn,

I heard that farewell voice once more,
« Oh! soon return!-Oh! soon return!»

Though, brimm'd with blisses, pure and rare,

Life's cup before me lay,

Unless thy love were mingled there,

I'd spurn the draught away. Oh! yes, so well, so tenderly

Thou 'rt loved, adored by me, Fame, fortune, wealth, and liberty, Are worthless without thee.

Without thy smile how joylessly

All glory's meeds I see!
And even the wreath of victory
Must owe its bloom to thee.
Those worlds, for which the conqueror sighs,
For me have now no charms;

My only world 's thy radiant eyes-
My throne those circling arms!
Oh! yes, so well, so tenderly

Thon 'rt loved, adored by me,
Whole realms of light and liberty
Were worthless without thee.

OH! YES, WHEN THE BLOOM. On! 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 awaT

Then let it console thee, if Love should not stay, That Friendship our last happy moments wi

crown:

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

ONE DEAR SMILE.

COULDST thou look as dear as when

First I sigh'd for thee;
Couldst thou make me feel again
Every wish I breathed thee then,

Oh! how blissful life would be!
Hopes, that now beguiling leave me,
Joys, that lie in slumber cold-
All 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 vow-
Never 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.

OH! YES, SO WELL.

On yes, so well, so tenderly
Thou 'rt loved, adored by me,

Fame, fortune, wealth, and liberty,
Were worthless without thee.

POH, DERMOT! GO ALONG WITH YOUR
GOSTER.

Pон, Dermot ! go along with your goster,
You might as well pray at a jig,

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And oh! for the joys that are sweeter than dew
From languishing roses, or kisses from you.

Will you, will you, will you, will you,
Won't you, my love?

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.

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.

THE RABBINICAL ORIGIN OF WOMEN.

THEY tell us that Woman was made of a rib

Just pick'd from a corner so snug in the side; But the Rabbins swear to you this is a fib, And it was not so at all that the sex was supplied. Derry down, down down derry down.

For old Adam was fashion'd, the first of his kind,
With a tail like a monkey, full yard and a span;
And when Nature cut off this appendage behind,
Why-then woman was made of the tail of the Man.
Derry down, down, down derry down.

If such is the tie between women and men,
The ninny who weds is a pitiful elf;
For he takes to his tail, like an idiot, again,
And makes a most damnable ape of himself!
Derry down, down, down derry down.

Yet, if we may judge as the fashions prevail,
Every husband remembers the original plan,
And, knowing his wife is no more than his tail,
Why he leaves her behind him as much as he can.
Derry down, down, down derry down.

FAREWELL, BESSY!

SWEETEST love! I'll not forget thee, Time shall only teach my heart

Fonder, warmer, to regret thee, Lovely, gentle as thou art! Farewell, Bessy!

We may meet again.

Yes, oh yes! again we meet, love!
And repose our hearts at last;
Oh, sure 't will then be sweet, love!
Calm to think on sorrows past.
Farewell, Bessy!

We may meet again.

Yet I feel my heart is breaking When I think I stray from thee, Round the world that quiet seeking Which I fear is not for me. Farewell, Bessy!

We may meet again.

Calm to peace thy lover's bosom-
Can it, dearest! must it be?
Thou within an hour shalt lose him,
He forever loses thee!

Farewell, Bessy!
Yet oh! not for ever.

TO-DAY, DEAREST! IS OURS. TO-DAY, dearest! is ours;

Why should Love carelessly lose it? This life shines or lowers

Just as we, weak mortals, use it. T is time enough, when its flowers decay, To think of the thorns of Sorrow; And Joy, if left on the stem to-day, May wither before to-morrow.

Then why, dearest! so long

Let the sweet moments fly over? Though now, blooming and young,

Thou hast me devoutly thy lover, Yet time from both, in his silent lapse,

Some treasure may steal or borrow; Thy charms may be less in bloom, perhaps, Or I less in love to-morrow.

WHEN ON THE LIP THE SIGH DELAYS. WHEN on the lip the sigh delays,

As if 't would linger there for ever; When eyes would give the world to gaze, Yet still look down, and venture never; When, though with fairest nymphs we rove, There's one we dream of more than anyIf all this is not real love,

'T is something wondrous like it, Fanny!

To think and ponder, when apart,

On all we 've got to say at meeting; And yet when near, with heart to heart, Sit mute, and listen to their beating: To see but one bright object move,

The only moon, where stars are many

If all this is not downright love,

I prithee say what is, my Fanny!

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