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BALLADS, SONGS, ETC.

TO-DAY, DEAREST! IS OURS.

TO-DAY, dearest! is ours;

Why should Love carelessly lose it? This life shines or lowers

Just as we, weak mortals, use it. 'Tis time enough, when its flow'rs decay, To think of the thorns of Sorrow; And Joy, if left on the stem to-day, May wither before to-morrow.

Then why, dearest! so long

Let the sweet moments fly over? Though now, blooming and young, Thou hast me devoutly thy lover: Yet Time from both, in his silent lapse, Some treasure may steal or borrow; Thy charms may be less in bloom, perhaps Or I less in love to-morrow.

WHEN ON THE LIP THE SIGH DELAYS.

WHEN on the lip the sigh delays,

As if 'twould linger there for ever; When eyes would give the world to gaze,

Yet still look down, and venture never; When, though with fairest nymphs we rove, There's one we dream of more than any. If all this is not real love,

"Tis something wond'rous like it, Fanny!

To think and ponder, when apart,
On all we've got to say at meeting;
And yet when near, with heart to heart,
Sit mute, and listen to their beating:
To see but one bright object move,

The only moon, where stars are many-
If all this is not downright love,

I prithee say what is, my Fanny!

When Hope foretells the brightest, best,
Though Reason on the darkest reckons;
When Passion drives us to the west,

Though Prudence to the eastward beckons;

When all turns round, below, above,
And our own heads the most of any -
If this is not stark, staring love,
Then you and I are sages, Fanny.

HERE, TAKE MY HEART.

HERE, take my heart - 'twill be safe in thy keeping,

While I go wand'ring o'er land and o'er sea; Smiling or sorrowing, waking or sleeping,

What need I care, so my heart is with thee?

If, in the race we are destin'd to run, love,

They who have light hearts the happiest be, Then, happier still must be they who have none, love,

And that will be my case when mine is with thee. It matters not where I may now be a rover, I care not how many bright eyes I may see; Should Venus herself come and ask me to love her, I'd tell her I couldn't-my heart is with thee. And there let it lie, growing fonder and fonderFor, even should Fortune turn truant to me, Why, let her go—I've a treasure beyond her, As long as my heart's out at int'rest with thee!

OH, CALL IT BY SOME BETTER NAME.

Он, call it by some better name,

For Friendship sounds too cold, While Love is now a worldly flame, Whose shrine must be of gold; And Passion, like the sun at noon, That burns o'er all he sees, Awhile as warm, will set as soonThen, call it none of these.

Imagine something purer far,
More free from stain of clay

Than Friendship, Love, or Passion are,
Yet human still as they:

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COME, May, with all thy flowers,
Thy sweetly-scented thorn,
Thy cooling ev'ning showers,
Thy fragrant breath at morn
When May-flies haunt the willow,
When May-buds tempt the bee,
Then o'er the shining billow
My love will come to me.

From Eastern Isles she's winging Through wat 'ry wilds her way, And on her cheek is bringing

The bright sun's orient ray: Oh, come and court her hither, Ye breezes mild and warm One winter's gale would wither So soft, so pure a form.

The fields where she was straying Are blest with endless light, With zephyrs always playing Through gardens always bright.

THE PRETTY ROSE TREE.

BEING weary of love,

I flew to the grove,

And chose me a tree of the fairest; Saying, "Pretty Rose-tree, "Thou my mistress shalt be, And I'll worship each bud thou bearest "For the hearts of this world are hollow, "And fickle the smiles we follow ;

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"And 'tis sweet, when all
"Their witch'ries pall,

"To have a pure love to fly to:

"So, my pretty Rose-tree, "Thou my mistress shalt be, "And the only one now I shall sigh to."

When the beautiful hue

Of thy cheek through the dew

Of morning is bashfully peeping, "Sweet tears," I shall say (As I brush them away), "At least there's no art in this weeping." Although thou should'st die to-morrow, "Twill not be from pain or sorrow; And the thorns of thy stem

Are not like them

With which men wound each other: So my pretty Rose-tree, Thou my mistress shalt be, And I'll ne'er again sigh to another.

SHINE OUT, STARS!

SHINE out, Stars! let Heav'n assemble

Round us ev'ry festal ray,

Lights that move not, lights that tremble,
All to grace this Eve of May.
Let the flow'r-beds all lie waking,

And the odours shut up there,
From their downy prisons breaking,
Fly abroad, through sea and air.

And would Love, too, bring his sweetness, With our other joys to weave,

Oh what glory, what completeness,

Then would crown this bright May Eve! Shine out, Stars! let night assemble Round us every festal ray,

Lights that move not, lights that tremble, To adorn this Eve of May.

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Tell her, oh, tell her, the tree that, in going,
Beside the green arbour she playfully set,
As lovely as ever is blushing and blowing,
And not a bright leaflet has fall'n from it yet.

So while away from that arbour forsaken,
The maiden is wandering, still let her be
As true as the lute, that no sighing can waken,
And blooming for ever, unchang'd as the tree!

NIGHTS OF MUSIC.

NIGHTS of music, nights of loving,
Lost too soon, remember'd long,
When we went by moonlight roving,
Hearts all love and lips all song.
When this faithful lute recorded

All my spirit felt to thee;
And that smile the song rewarded-
Worth whole years of fame to me!

Nights of song, and nights of splendour,
Fill'd with joys too sweet to last —
Joys that, like the star-light, tender,
While they shone, no shadow cast.
Though all other happy hours

From my fading mem'ry fly,
Of that star-light, of those bowers,
Not a beam, a leaf shall die!

OUR FIRST YOUNG LOVE.

OUR first young love resembles
That short but brilliant ray,
Which smiles, and weeps, and trembles
Through April's earliest day.
And not all life before us,
Howe'er its lights may play,
Can shed a lustre o'er us
Like that first April ray.

Our summer sun may squander
A blaze serener, grander;

Our autumn beam
May, like a dream
Of heav'n, die calm away;
But, no- let life before us

Bring all the light it may, "Twill ne'er shed lustre o'er us Like that first youthful ray.

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