Swift our sledge as lightning goes,
Nor shall stop till morning's hour.
Bright, my steed, the northern star
Lights us from yon jewell'd skies ;
But, to greet us, brighter far,
Morn shall bring my lady's eyes.

Lovers, lull'd in sunny bow'rs,

Sleeping out their dream of time,
Know not half the bliss that's ours,
In this snowy, icy clime.
Like yon star that livelier gleams
From the frosty heavens around,

Love himself the keener beams

When with snows of coyness crown'd.

Fleet then on, my merry steed;

Bound, my sledge, o'er hill and dale ;What can match a lover's speed? See, 'tis daylight, breaking pale ! Brightly hath the northern star Lit us from yon radiant skies; But, behold, how brighter far Yonder shine my lady's eyes!

I'D MOURN THE HOPES.

'D mourn the hopes that leave me, If thy smiles had left me too; I'd weep when friends deceive me,

If thou wert, like them, untrue.

But while I've thee before me,

With heart so warm and eyes so bright,

No clouds can linger o'er me

That smile turns them all to light.

'Tis not in fate to harm me,

While fate leaves thy love to me;

'Tis not in joy to charm me, Unless joy be shared with thee. One minute's dream about thee

Were worth a long, an endless year Of waking bliss without thee,

My own love, my only dear!

And though the hope be gone, love,
That long sparkled o'er our way,
Oh! we shall journey on, love,
More safely, without its ray.
Far better lights shall win me
Along the path I've yet to roam :-
The mind that burns within me,
And pure smiles from thee at home.

Thus when the lamp that lighted
The traveller at first goes out,

He feels awhile benighted,

And looks round in fear and doubt.

But soon, the prospect clearing,

By cloudless starlight on he treads, And thinks no lamp so cheering

As that light which Heaven sheds.

WREATH THE BOWL.

REATH the bowl

With flowers of soul,

The brightest Wit can find us;
We'll take a flight

Tow'rds heaven to-night,

And leave dull earth behind us.
Should Love amid

The wreaths be hid,

That Joy, th' enchanter, brings us,

No danger fear,

While wine is near

We'll drown him if he stings us;

Then wreath the bowl

With flowers of soul,

The brightest Wit can find us ;
We'll take a flight

Tow'rds heaven to-night,

And leave dull earth behind us.

'T was nectar fed

Of old, 'tis said,

Their Junos, Joves, Apollos;

And man may brew

His nectar too

The rich receipt's as follows:

Take wine like this,

Let looks of bliss

Around it well be blended,

Then bring Wit's beam

To warm the stream,

And there's your nectar, splendid!

So wreath the bowl

With flowers of soul,

The brightest Wit can find us ;

We'll take a flight

Tow'rds heaven to-night,

And leave dull earth behind us.

Say, why did Time

His glass sublime

Fill up with sands unsightly,

When wine, he knew,

Runs brisker through

And sparkles far more brightly?

Oh, lend it us,

And, smiling thus,