Such was the scene this lovely glade MAIDENS OF ZIA. HERE, while the moonlight dim Maidens of ZIA! Nothing but music's strain, Bright fount, so clear and cold, Famed though its streamlet be, Thou, while our hymn we sing, Sweet Fount of ZIA! Oh! of all rills that run, Now, by those stars that glance Such as in former days, Oh, maids of ZIA! But when to merry feet Maidens of ZIA! No, nought but music's strain, Soothes till they meet again, Oh, maids of ZIA! Qualis in Eurotæ ripis, aut per juga Cynthi A Set of Glees. TO MRS JEFFREY, IN REMEMBRANCE OF THE PLEASANT HOURS PASSED AT CRAIG-CROOK, WITH HER AND MY VALUED FRIEND HER HUSBAND, I HAVE GREAT PLEASURE IN INSCRIBING THE FOLLOWING GLEES. COME, fill round a bumper, fill up to the brim, He who shrinks from a bumper, I pledge not to him: Ev'n faster than ours doth, three bumpers in one: Here's « the poet who sings-here 's the warrior who fights Here's the girl that each loves, be her eye of what hue, Here's the statesman who speaks in the cause of man's ་ rights!» Hip, hip, hip, hip, hip, hurra, hurra, hurra! Come, once more a bumper!-then drink as you please, Though who could fill half-way to such toasts as these? Here's «< our next joyous meeting-and, oh, when we meet May our wine be as bright, and our union as sweet!»> Charge! Hip, hip, hip, hip, hip, hurra, hurra, hurra! THE WATCHMAN. Good night, good night, my dearestHow fast the moments fly! "T is time to part-thou hearest That hateful watchman's cry. Past twelve o'clock ! past twelve! Yet stay a moment longer : The wish to stay grows stronger Past one o'clock! past one! Now wrap thy cloak about thee; The hours must sure go wrong, For, when they 're pass'd without thee, Again that dreadful warning! THE PARTING BEFORE THE BATTLE. ON to the field! our doom is sea!'d To conquer or be slaves: The sun shall see our nation free, Or shine upon our graves! Farewell, oh! farewell, my love! On to the field-the battle-field, Where freedom's standard waves! This sun shall see our tyrant yield, Or shine upon our graves. Hark! the trumpet's signal blastTake this last farewell! Yet, oh! not the last; On to the field! For hope whispers fondly that hearts so united, So happy, ev'n death would be loth to destroy, And, checking his dark hand, would pause ere he blighted A love but just opening in sunshine and joy. Onward to the battle-field, Where freedom's standard waves! This sun shall see our tyrant yield, Or shine upon our graves! HUSH, HUSH! « HUSH, hush!»-how well « Hark, hark! 't is he,»> And hush their fairy harmony While he steals by. But if his silv'ry feet One dew-drop brush, Voices are heard, in chorus sweet, Whisp'ring,« Hush, hush !» SAY, WHAT SHALL WE DANCE? SAY, what shall we dance? Shall we bound along the moonlight plain, To the light bolero's measures move? Sound the gay chords Let us hear each strain from ev'ry shore Delights through the gay saloon with slow step to tread; Of love the while by her side. Then comes the smooth waltz, to whose floating sound Like dreams, we go gliding around. Say, which shall we dance? THE EVENING GUN. When loud we heard the evening gun, Oft, when the toils of day are done, I sit to hear that evening gun The distant sounds decay, I weep, and wish from this rough world Like them, to die away. DEAR FANNY. SHE has beauty, but still you must keep your heart cool; Thus Reason advises, but Reason's a fool, Dear Fanny. She is lovely! Then love her, nor let the bliss fly; 'T is the charm of youth's vanishing season: Thus Love has advised me, and who will deny DID NOT. 'T was a new feeling-something more Which then we hid not, which then we hid not: And wish'd, in every murmur'd sigh, She felt my lips' impassion'd touch- Warmly I felt her bosom thrill, I press'd it closer, closer still, Though gently bid not, though gently bid not; Till-oh! the world hath seldom heard Of lovers, who so nearly err'd, And yet who did not, and yet who did not. FANNY, DEAREST ! On! had I leisure to sigh and mourn, Fanny, dearest! for thee I'd sigh; And every smile on my cheek should turn To tears, when thou art nigh. But, between love, and wine, and sleep, So busy a life I live, That even the time it would take to weep The love, that 's order'd to bathe in wine, Reflected bright in this heart of mine, Who view it through sorrow's tear; Then wait no longer till tears shall flow- FANNY WAS IN THE GROVE. FANNY was in the grove, And Lubin, her boy, was nigh; Her eye was warm with love, And her soul was warm as her eye. Oh! oh! if Lubin now would sue, Oh! oh! what could Fanny do? Fanny was made for bliss, But she was young and shy; And when he had stolen a kiss, She blush'd, and said with a sigh«< Oh! oh! Lubin, ah! tell me true, Oh! oh! what are you going to do?» They wander'd beneath the shade, Her eye was dimm'd with a tear, For ah! the poor little maid Was thrilling with love and fear. Oh! oh! if Lubin would but sue, Oh! oh! what could Fanny do! Sweetly along the grove The birds sang all the while, And Fanny now said to her love, With a frown that was half a smile «Oh! oh! why did Lubin sue? Oh! oh! why did Lubin sue?»> Viver en Cadenas. FROM LIFE WITHOUT FREEDOM. FROM life without freedom, oh! who would not fly? In death's kindly bosom our last hope remains— Roses now unheeded sigh ; Where's the hand to wreathe them? Songs around neglected lie, Where's the lip to breathe them? Here's the bower she loved so much, And the tree she planted; Here's the harp she used to touch- Now hath lost its fleetness. Nor Pity wept a dearer! Here's the bower she loved so much, And the tree she planted; Here's the harp she used to touch- HOLY BE THE PILGRIM'S SLEEP. HOLY be the Pilgrim's sleep, From the dreams of terror free; And may all, who wake to weep, Rest to-night as sweet as he! Hark! hark! did I hear a vesper swell! No, no 't is my loved Pilgrim's prayer: O Pilgrim! where hast thou been roaming? Peace to them whose days are done, HERE'S THE BOWER. HERE'S the bower she loved so much, I CAN NO LONGER STIFLE. I CAN no longer stifle How much I long to rifle Of you, you lovely trifle! You can no longer doubt it, And by the Lord, This pretty thing's as light, Sir, As any paper kite, Sir; And here and there, And God knows where, She takes her wheeling flight, Sir. U's lovers, to amuse us, Unto her tail she nooses; There, hung like bobs Of straw, or nobs, She whisks us where she chuses. I SAW THE MOON RISE CLEAR. I SAW the moon rise clear O'er hills and vales of snow, Nor told my fleet rein-deer The track I wish'd to go. But quick he bounded forth; For well my rein-deer knew I've but one path on earth The path which leads to you. The gloom that winter cast How soon the heart forgets! The sun that never sets. JOYS THAT PASS AWAY. Joys that pass away like this, If every beam of bliss Is follow'd by a tear. Fare thee well! oh, fare thee well! Soon, too soon, thou 'st broke the spell, The girl whose faithless art And with it break my heart. But now that lustre flies, For truth, alas! is gone. Fare thee well! oh, fare thee well! Oh ! how lorn, how lost would prove Thy wretched victim's fate, If, when deceived in love, He could not fly to hate! LIGHT SOUNDS THE HARP. LIGHT Sounds the harp when the combat is overWhen heroes are resting, and joy is in bloomWhen laurels hang loose from the brow of the lover, And Cupid makes wings of the warrior's plume. |