Let the cavalier revel in worldly delight,

He may hunt in the morning, and dance in the night, Though at tourney and revel we never appear,

Our feastings are merry, our hearts of good cheer; And Care is aware,

How ill he will fare,

If into an abbey he venture to stare.

Then fill up the flagon and send round the bowl,
It quickens the wit and rejoiceth the soul;
Fill the goblet, a bumper!-the vine's ruby blood
Has gladdened the hearts of the great and the good;
And let us all join

In a chorus divine

To Bacchus - Lord Bacchus! the Saint of the Vine.

THE MAIDEN'S SONG.

143

The Maiden's Song,

HE leaves are murmuring with the breeze,

And, soothed to soft repose,

I lie reclined beneath the trees,

And half forget my woes;

A gentle wind is breathing, Mother!

A tranquillizing gale;

It sweeps along, with a happy song,

O'er woodland, moor and vale;

And here, reclined beneath the trees,

I half forget my woe,

In the soothing murmur of the breeze,—

Whilst with happy voice the birds rejoice,

And flowers around. me blow.