REASON, and Folly, and Beauty, they say, Around the maid, The bells of his cap rung merrily out; To his sermon book Oh! which was the pleasanter no one need doubt. Which was the pleasanter no one need doubt. Beauty, who likes to be thought very sage, "Look here, sweet maid!" The sight of his cap brought her back to herself; While Reason read His leaves of lead, With no one to mind him, poor sensible elf! Then Reason grew jealous of Folly's gay cap; Had he that on, he her heart might entrap— "There it is," Quoth Folly, "old quiz!” (Folly was always good-natured, 'tis said) "Under the sun There's no such fun, As Reason with my cap and bells on his head, Reason with my cap and bells on his head!" But Reason the head-dress so awkwardly wore, That Beauty now lik'd him still less than before; While Folly took Old Reason's book, And twisted the leaves in a cap of such ton, (Though not aloud), She lik'd him still better in that than his own, Yes,-lik'd him still better in that than his own. DO NOT SAY THAT LIFE IS WANING. Do not say that life is waning, Do not think those charms are flying, Though thy roses fade and fall; Beauty hath a grace undying, Which in thee survives them all. Not for charms, the newest, brightest, THEN, FARE THEE WELL. (OLD ENGLISH Air.) Then, fare thee well, my own dear love, The pain of parting thus. Had we but known, since first we met, We might, in numb'ring them, forget The deep, deep pain of this. But no, alas, we've never seen One glimpse of pleasure's ray, But still there came some cloud between, Dear love! And chas'd it all away. Yet, ev'n could those sad moments last, Were hours of grief, together past, Than years of mirth apart. Farewell! our hope was born in fears, Like winter suns, it rose in tears, Like them in tears it sets. WHEN THE WINE-CUP IS SMILING. (ITALIAN AIR.) WHEN the wine-cup is smiling before us, And we pledge round to hearts that are true, boy, true Then the sky of this life opens o'er us, And Heaven gives a glimpse of its blue. Talk of Adam in Eden reclining, We are better, far better off thus, boy, thus; For him but two bright eyes were shiningSee, what numbers are sparkling for us! When on one side the grape-juice is dancing, I care not how fast it goes on, boy, on, OH. DAYS OF YOUTH. (FRENCH AIR.) Он, days of youth and joy, long clouded, No, never more can this life bring me Dim lies the way to death before me, Cold winds of Time blow round my brow; Where is your warmth, your glory now? Oh, 'tis that life no more can bring me THE GARLAND I SEND THEE. THE Garland I send thee was cull'd from those bowers The roses were gather'd by that garden gate, |