There, there, far from thee, Deceitful world, my home should be- The dry leaves quivering o'er my head, As they who to their couch at night Like freezing founts, where all that's thrown SHE SUNG OF LOVE. AIR-The Munster Man. SHE sung of love-while o'er her lyre As if to feed with their soft fire The soul within that trembling shell. But soon the West no longer burn'd, The minstrel's form seem'd fading too, And from her glimmering lips the tone, The thought here was suggested by some beautiful lines in Mr Rogers's Poem of Human Life, beginning Who ever loved, but had the thought That he and all he loved must part? Fill'd with this fear, I flew and caught That fading image to my heartAnd cried, «Oh Love! is this thy doom? Oh light of youth's resplendent day! then lose your golden bloom, And thus, like sunshine, die away?» Must ye SING-SING-MUSIC WAS GIVEN. AIR-The Humours of Ballamaguiry, or the Old Langolee. SING-sing-Music was given To brighten the gay, and kindle the loving; By harmony's laws alone are kept moving. But love from the lips his true archery wings; To brighten the gay, and kindle the loving; By harmony's laws alone are kept moving. When Love, rock'd by his mother, Lay sleeping as calm as slumber could make him, «Hush, hush,» said Venus, « no other Sweet voice but his own is worthy to wake him.»> Dreaming of music he slumber'd the while, Till faint from his lips a soft melody broke, Now in the glimmering, dying light she grows I would quote the entire passage, but that I fear to put my own humble imitation of it out of countenance. ADVERTISEMENT. National Airs. It is Cicero, I believe, who says « natura ad modos ducimur;» and the abundance of wild indigenous airs which almost every country, except England, possesses, sufficiently proves the truth of his assertion. The lovers of this simple but interesting kind of music are here presented with the first number of a collection, which I trust their contributions will enable us to continue. A pretty air without words resembles one of those half creatures of Plato, which are described as wandering, in search of the remainder of themselves, through the world. To supply this other half, by uniting with congenial words the many fugitive melodies which have hitherto had none, or only such as are unintelliCible to the generality of their hearers, is the object and ambition of the present work. Neither is it our intention to confine ourselves to what are strictly called National Melodies, but, wherever we meet with any wandering and beautiful air, to which poetry has not yet assigned a worthy home, we shall venture to claim it as an estray swan, and enrich our humble Hippocrene with its song. T. M. NATIONAL AIRS. No. I. A TEMPLE TO FRIENDSHIP.' Spanish Air. « A TEMPLE to Friendship,» said Laura, enchanted, «< I'll build in this garden-the thought is divine!»> Iler temple was built, and she now only wanted An image of Friendship to place on the shrine. She flew to a sculptor, who set down before her A Friendship, the fairest his art could invent, But so cold and so dull, that the youthful adorer Saw plainly this was not the idol she meant. «Oh! never,» she cried, « could I think of enshrining An image whose looks are so joyless and dim! But yon little god upon roses reclining, We'll make, if you please, Sir, a Friendship of him.»> So the bargain was struck, with the little god laden She joyfully flew to her shrine in the grove: «Farewell,» said the sculptor, «you're not the first maiden Who came but for Friendship, and took away Love.» FLOW ON, THOU SHINING RIVER. Portuguese Air. FLOW on, thou shining river; But, ere thou reach the sea, Thou find'st she mocks my prayer, Like those sweet flowers from thee. ALL THAT 'S BRIGHT MUST FADE. Indian Air. ALL that 's bright must fade,— The brightest still the fleetest; All that's sweet was made But to be lost when sweetest. Stars that shine and fall; The flower that drops in springing ;These, alas! are types of all To which our hearts are clinging. All that's bright must fade, The brightest still the fleetest; All that's sweet was made But to be lost when sweetest! The thought is taken from a song by Le Priear, called La Statue de l'Amitié.. Who would seek or prize Delights that end in aching? Who would trust to ties That every hour are breaking? Better far to be In utter darkness lying, Than be blest with light and see That light for ever flying. All that 's bright must fade, The brightest still the fleetest; All that 's sweet was made But to be lost when sweetest! SO WARMLY WE MET. So warmly we met and so fondly we parted, That which was the sweeter even I could not tell That first look of welcome her sunny eyes darted, Or that tear of passion which bless'd our farewell. In smiles and in tears, than that moment to this. morrow Would bring back the blest hour of meeting again. THOSE EVENING BELLS. AIR-The Bells of St Petersburgh. THOSE evening bells! those evening bells! SHOULD THOSE FOND HOPES. SHOULD those fond hopes e'er forsake thee, The metre of the words is here necessarily sacrificed to the air. OH! COME TO ME WHEN DAYLIGHT SETS. On! come to me when daylight sets; When Mirth's awake, and Love begins, With sound of lutes and mandolins, To steal young hearts away. When smoothly go our gondolets O'er the moonlight sea. Oh! then's the hour for those who love, When all 's so calm below, above, So sweet, that all with ears and souls So, come to me when daylight sets; When smoothly go our gondolets The thought in this verse is borrowed from the original Portuguese words. 2. Barcarolles, sorte de chansons en langue Vénitienne, que chantent les gendoliers à Venise.-ROUSSEAU, Dictionnaire de Mrsique. OFT, IN THE STILLY NIGHT. Scotch Air. OFT, in the stilly night, Ere Slumber's chain has bound me, Fond Memory brings the light Of other days around me; Of boyhood's years, The words of love then spoken; The eyes that shone, The cheerful hearts now broken! Thus, in the stilly night, Ere Slumber's chain has bound me, Sad Memory brings the light Of other days around me. When I remember all The friends, so link'd together, Like leaves in wintry weather; Thus in the stilly night, Ere Slumber's chain has bound me, Sad Memory brings the light Of other days around me. «I go,» said Love, « to sail awhile Across this sunny main :>> And then so sweet his parting smile, She linger'd there till evening's beam And o'er the sands, in thoughtful dream, At length a sail appears in sight, and bright, Another sail-'t was Friendship show'd Her night-lamp o'er the sea; And calm the light that lamp bestow'd: Now fast around the sea and shore HARK! THE VESPER HYMN IS STEALING. Russian Air. HARK! the vesper hymn is stealing O'er the waters, soft and clear; Nearer yet and nearer pealing, Jubilate, Amen. Farther now, now farther stealing, Now, like moonlight waves retreating Hush! again, like waves, retreating Jubilate, Amen. No. II. LOVE AND HOPE. AT morn, beside yon summer sea, Young Hope and Love reclined; But scarce had noon-tide come, when he Into his bark leap'd smilingly, And left poor Hope behind. THERE COMES A TIME. THERE comes a time, a dreary time, To him whose heart hath flown When sets the sun on Afric's shore, When Love withdraws his light- Oh! there comes a time, etc. MY HARP HAS ONE UNCHANGING THEME. Swedish Air. My harp has one unchanging theme, To wake the breathing string; Breathe on, breathe on, thou languid strain, Henceforth be all my own; Though thou art oft so full of pain, Few hearts can bear thy tone. The breath that Pleasure's wings Gave out, when last they wanton'd by, Were still upon thy strings. OH! NO-NOT E'EN WHEN FIRST WE LOVED. Cashmerian Air. On! no-not e'en when first we loved, But now thy virtues bind my heart. Has since been turn'd to Reason's vow; And, though I then might love thee more, Trust me, I love thee better now! Although my heart in earlier youth Might kindle with more wild desire, Believe me, it has gain'd in truth Much more than it has lost in fire. The flame now warms my inmost core, That then but sparkled o'er my brow; And, though I seem'd to love thee more, Yet, oh! I love thee better now. PEACE BE AROUND THEE! PEACE be around thee! wherever thou rovest And all that thou wishest, and all that thou lovest, May even thy tears pass off so lightly, May Time, who sheds his blight o'er all, And daily dooms some joy to death, O'er thee let years so gently fall, They shall not crush one flower beneath! As half in shade and half in sun, This world along its path advances, May that side the sun 's upon Be all that e'er shall meet thy glances! COMMON SENSE AND GENIUS. WHILE I touch the string, For the tale I sing, Has, for once, a moral. Common Sense, one night, Though not used to gambols, Went out by moonlight, With Genius, on his rambles. While I touch the string, etc. Many wise things saying, On each night-cloud o'er him. Safe, as he doth ever; But tumbled headlong in it! Genius, left to shiver Died of that cold river! While I touch the string, etc. |