Dost thou dote on woman's brow? Dost thou live but in her breath? March!-one hour of victory now Wins thee woman's smile till death. Oh, what bliss, when war is over, Beauty's long-miss'd smile to meet, Lay their war-crests down, and die? There! I see thy soul is burning— One last glowing tear, and then- THEY MET BUT ONCE. HEY met but once, in youth's sweet hour, Hath absence, time, or grief had power To chase that dream away. They've seen the suns of other skies, On other shores have sought delight; Of Love's young hopes they knew ; Sweet dream of youth! oh, ne'er again They left so smooth and smiling then, For, Youth, the spell was only thine; From thee alone th' enchantment flows, They met but once,-oh, ne'er again They left so smooth and smiling then, THOU BIDST ME SING. HOU bidst me sing the lay I sung to thee now! The rose thou wear'st to-night is still the same We saw this morning on its stem so gay; But, ah! that dew of dawn, that breath which came Since first that music touch'd thy heart and mine, The pain, a cloud whose shadows always last. Breathe o'er our ear, 't would waken now a sigh Ah! not, as then, for fancied woes to come, NO, NOT MORE WELCOME. O, not more welcome the fairy numbers Of music fall on the sleeper's ear, When, half awaking from fearful slumbers, He thinks the full quire of heaven is near,— Than came that voice, when, all forsaken, This heart long had sleeping lain, Nor thought its cold pulse would ever waken Sweet voice of comfort! 'twas like the stealing Each secret winding, each inmost feeling To have my long sleep of sorrow broken By such benign, blessed sounds again. LOVE THEE, DEAREST? LOVE THEE ? OVE thee, dearest? love thee? Yes, by yonder star I swear, Though often dim, With tears, like him, Like him my truth will shine, And-love thee, dearest? love thee? Yes, till death I'm thine. Leave thee, dearest? leave thee? No, that star is not more true; When my vows deceive thee, He will wander too. A cloud of night May veil his light, And death shall darken mine But-leave thee, dearest? leave thee? No, till death I'm thine. THE BOY OF THE ALPS. IGHTLY, Alpine rover, Tread the mountains over; Rude is the path thou'st yet to go; While the hid torrent moans below. Hark, the deep thunder, Through the vales yonder! 'Tis the huge av'lanche downward cast; From rock to rock Rebounds the shock. But courage, boy! the danger's past. Onward, youthful rover, Tread the glacier over, Safe shalt thou reach thy home at last. On, ere light forsake thee, Soon will dusk o'ertake thee: O'er yon ice-bridge lies thy way! Now, for the risk prepare thee; Safe it yet may bear thee, Though 't will melt in morning's ray. Hark, that dread howling! "Tis the wolf prowling, Scent of thy track the foe hath got; And cliff and shore Resound his roar. But courage, boy,--the danger's past! Watching eyes have found thee, Loving arms are round thee, Safe hast thou reach'd thy father's cot. |