O, THE ACCENTS OF LOVE.

O, THE accents of Love! can they ever again
Speak peace to this desolate soul;

When o'er my life's lord the deep floods of the main Now darkly and mournfully roll?

O, no! let them search in my Algernon's grave, Would they learn where my heart is entombed ; Let them pierce to those chambers beneath the dark wave,

No sun-beam hath ever illumed.

But let them not hope to revive it with sighs,
Or reach it with accents of love;

"Twill mock their endeavours, for, buried, it lies,
With fathomless waters above.

COME SHINING FORTH MY DEAREST.

COME, shining forth, my dearest,
With looks of warm delight;

Shed joy as thou appearest,

Like morning beams of light.

Like morning's beam of light, love,
Mild shines thine azure eye!
Thine absence is a night, love,
In which I droop and die.

Oh, let me hear that tongue, love,
Whose music thrills my heart,
Like notes by angels sung, love,
When souls in bliss depart.
And at thy casement rising,
Illume thy ravish'd sight,
Like day the world surprising,
With morning beams of light.

THE LEGACY.

WHEN in death I shall calm recline,
Oh! bear my heart to my mistress dear;
Tell her liv'd upon smiles and wine

Of the brightest hue while it linger'd here. Bid her not shed one tear of sorrow,

To sully a heart so brilliant and light,
But balmy drops of the red grape borrow,
To bathe the relic from morn to night.

When the light of my song is o'er,
Then take my harp to your ancient hall,
Hang it up at that friendly door,

Where weary trav'liers love to call:
Then if some bard who roams forsaken,
Revive its soft notes in passing along,
Oh let one thought of its master waken
Your warmest smile for the child of song.

Keep this cup, which is now o'erflowing,
To grace your revel when I'm at rest;
Never, oh never its balm bestowing,

On lips that beauty hath seldom blest!
But when some warm devoted lover,
To her he loves shall bathe its brim
Oh, then my spirit around shall hover,
And hallow each drop that foams for him!

FAR, far from me my lover flies----
A faithless lover he:

In vain my tears, in vain my sighs,
No longer true to me,

He seeks another.

Lie still, my heart, no longer grieve,
No pangs to him betray,

Who taught you these sad sighs to heave,
Then laughing went away,
To seek another.

THE SOLDIER'S DREAM.

OUR bugles sang truce, for the night-cloud had lower'd,
And the sentinel-stars set their watch in the sky,
And thousands had sunk on the ground, overpower'd,
The weary to sleep, and the wounded to die.
When reposing that night on my pallet of straw,
By the wolf-scaring faggot, that guarded the slain,
In the dead of the night a sweet vision I saw,

And twice, ere the cock crew, I dreamt it again.

Methought from the battle-field's dreadful array,
Far, far I had roamed on a desolate track,
Till nature and sunshine disclosed the sweet way
To the house of my fathers, that welcomed me back.
I flew to the pleasant fields, traversed so oft

In life's morning march, when my bosom was young; I heard my own mountain-goats bleating aloft,

And well knew the strain that the corn-reapers sung.

Then pledged we the wine cup, and fondly I swore, From my home and my weeping friends never to part;

My little ones kiss'd me a thousand times o'er,

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And my wife sobbed aloud in the fulness of heart. 'Stay, stay with us, rest-thou art weary and worn!" And fain was the war-broken soldier to stay; But sorrow return'd with the dawning of morn,

And the voice of my dreaming ear melted away!

THE SOLDIER WHO DIED FOR HIS KING.

DEAR maid of my soul, should I perish,
Where battle's rude discord speaks loudly;
The name of thy fond lover cherish,

And let thy young bosom beat proudly.
My own banner over me wave,

My broken shield over me fling;
And carve on the oak o'er my grave,
"The soldier who died for his king."

Yet, maid, when my life-blood is streaming,
One tear to my last moments given;
Like a star in thy blue eye beaming,
To me were a foretaste of heaven.

My own banner, &o.

AND YE SHALL WALK.

AND ye shall walk in silk attire,
And siller hae to spare,
Gin ye consent to be my bride,
Nor think on Donald mair.
"Owha wad buy a silken gown,
Wi' a puir broken heart?
Or what's to me a siller crown,
Gin frae my love I part ?"

And ye &c.

I wadna walk in silk attire,
Nor braid wi' gems my hair,
Gin he whose faith is pledged wi' mine
Were wranged and grieving sair.

Frae infancy he loved me still,
And still my heart shall prove,
How weel it can those vows fulfil,
Which first repaid his love.

I wadna walk, &c.

THE GRAVESEND STEAMER.

YOU'VE of a Putney party heard,
And those who Woolwich joys preferr'd;
But now I'll tell you what occurr'd
Aboard a Gravesend Steamer.
Not like those vulgar chaps I'd be,
Wot never ventured out to sea;
A change of air, all did agree,
Most fit and proper was for me:
So I one day, with Mrs. Brown,
Resolv'd to leave the smoky town;
And Sunday after we went down

Aboard of a Gravesend Steamer,
With squalling, bawling, all the day,
And sighing, crying, all the way,
Oh! we were anything but gay
Aboard a Gravesend Steamer.

That we might be at no expense,
Ve took our own prowisions thence,
And that you'll own pourt ay'd our sense,
Aboard a Gravesend Steamer.

But scarcely had we reach'd Blackwall,
When there came on a precious squall,
And that obliged us one and all

To crowd into a cabin small:

To find a seat in vain I search'd,

A score were on the table perch'd,

Who soon were floor'd-'cause we were lurch'd

I didn't longer there remain,

Aboard, &c.

The heat was worse than all the rain,

So quickly got on deck again

Aboard a Gravesend Steamer.

I wonder'd, but I couldn't tell
Wot did the wessel so propel;