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But vainly did she dissemble,
For whene'er she'd try to smile,
A tear, unbidden, trembled

In her blue eye all the while.

She knew that she was dying,
And she dreaded not her doom,
She never thought of sighing

O'er her beauty's blighted bloom!
She knew her cheek was alter'd,
And she knew her eye was dim,
But her sweet voice only falter'd,
When she spoke of losing him.
'Tis true, that he had lur'd her
From the isle where she was born;
'Tis true, he had inured her,

To the cold world's cruel scorn:
But yet she never blam'd him,

For the anguish she had known,
And though she seldom named him,
Yet she thought of him alone.

She sigh'd when he caress'd her,

For she knew that they must part,
She spoke not, when he press'd her
To his young and panting heart!
The banners wav'd around her,

And she heard the bugle's sound;
They pass'd-and strangers found her
Cold, and lifeless on the ground!

The Lily of France.

Let the banner of France be unfurl'd,
Fair and bright as the forehead of day,
Tho' defiance it bade to the world,

Her knighthood would spring to the fray;

Like shaft from the cross-bow that bounds,
Speeds each youth, gaily couching his lance,
And through legions one war cry resounds,
'I fight for the lily of France!'

My faith proudly vouch'd by my blood
Let fate strike me young on my bier,
I'd smile upon life's ebbing flood,

If enrich'd but by woman's fond tear.
Form of beauty, beam thou o'er my side,
And Death should like triumph advance,
Oh, glory! Oh, soul-cheering pride-
'I die for the lily of France!'

Swiss Hunter's Welcome Home. While the hunter o'er the mountain, at daybreak is bounding,

By the wild rilly fountain, the chamois descries, Through the mist of the morning, his halloo resounding,

Every fear nobly scorning, still onward he flies. When the hunter o'er the mountain,

At daybreak is bounding,

By the wild rilly fountain,

The chamois descries, the chamois, &c.

He tracks in the snow print, the flight of the ranger!

He brushes the dew-tint, where cataracts foam; The hunter pursuing, surmounts every danger, The swift chase renewing, till night calls him home.

When the hunter o'er the mountain,

At daybreak is bounding,

In search of the chamois,

Unwearied he flies, unwearied he flies.

From the toils of the chase the bold hunter returning, With joy views his cot in the valley below.

When the hunter o'er the mountain, from the chase is returning,

To his cot near the fountain, with rapture he flies.
Then content in his cottage,
While gently reposing,

From woman's bright smile

Meets a sweet welcome home, a sweet, &c.

Fly to the Desert.

Fly to the desert, fly with me,
Our Arab tents are rude for thee;
But Oh! the choice what heart can doubt,
Of tents with love, or thrones without!

Our rocks are rough, but smiling there
Th' acacia waves her yellow hair,
Lonely and sweet, nor loved the less
For flowering in a wilderness.

Our sands are bare, but down their slope
The silvery-footed antelope

As gracefully and gaily springs

As o'er the marble courts of kings.

Then come

e-thy Arab maid will be
The lov'd and lone acacia tree,

The antelope, whose feet shall bless
With their light sound thy loneliness.

Oh! there are looks and tones that dart
An instant sunshine through the heart,
As if the soul that minute caught
Some treasure it through life had sought;

As if the very lips and eyes
Predestin'd to have all our sighs,

And never be forgot again,

Sparkled and spoke before us then!

So came thy every glance and tone,
When first on me they breathed and shone ;
New as if brought from other spheres,
Yet welcome as if lov'd for years!

Then fly with me-if thou hast known
No other flame, nor falsely thrown
A gem away which thou hast sworn,
Should ever in thy heart be worn.

Come, if the love thou hast for me
Is pure and fresh as mine for thee,
Fresh as the fountain under ground,
When first 'tis by the lapwing found.*

But if for me thou dost forsake
Some other maid, and rudely break
Her worshipp'd image from its base
To give to me the ruin'd place;

Then fare thee well-I'd rather make
My bower upon some icy lake,
When thawing suns begin to shine,"
Than trust to love so false as thine!

The Raising.

Come muster, my lads, your mechanical tools, Your saws and your axes, your hammers and rules Bring your mallets and planes, your level and line, And plenty of pins of American pine:

For our roof we will raise, and our song still shall be, A government firm, and our citizens free.

*The hudhud, or lapwing, is supposed to have the power of discovering water under ground.

Come, up with the plates, lay them firm on the wall, Like the people at large, they're the ground-work of all;

Examine them well, and see that they're sound,
Let no rotten parts in our building be found;
For our roof we will raise, and our song still shall be,
Our government firm and our citizens free.
Now hand up the girders, lay each in his place,
Between them the joists must divide all the space;
Like assembly-men, these should lie level along,
Like girders, our senate prove loyal and strong:
For our roof we will raise, and our song still shall be,
A government firm, over citizens free.

The rafters now frame, your king-posts and braces,
And drive your pins home to keep all in their places;
Let wisdom and strength in the fabric combine,
And your pins be all made of American pine:

For the roof we will raise, and our song still shall be,
A government firm, over citizens free.

Our king-posts are judges-now upright they stand,
Supporting the braces, the laws of the land;
The laws of the land which divide right from wrong,
And strengthen the weak, by weakening the strong:
For our roof we will raise, and our song still shall be,
Laws equal and just for a people that's free.

Lo! up with the rafters each frame is a state!
How noble they rise! their span too how great!
From the north to the south, o'er the whole they
extend,

And rest on the walls, while the walls they defend;
For our roof we will raise, and our song still shall be,
Combined in strength, yet as citizens free.

Now enter the purlins, and drive your pins thro', And see that your joints are drawn home, and all true;

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