One his eye ne'er rais'd

From the path before him;
T'other idly gaz'd

On each night-cloud o'er him.

While I touch the string, Wreath my brows with laurel, For the tale I sing Has, for once, a moral !

So they came, at last,

To a shady river;

Common Sense soon pass'd,

Safe, as he doth ever.

While the boy, whose look Was in heaven that minute, Never saw the brook, But tumbled headlong in it!

While I touch the string, Wreath my brows with laurel, For the tale I sing Has, for once, a moral!

How the wise one smil'd,

When safe o'er the torrent,
At that youth, so wild,
Dripping from the current.

Sense went home to bed,Genius, left to shiver

On the bank, 'tis said, Died of that cold river!

While I touch the string,
Wreath my brows with laurel,
For the tale I sing
Has, for once, a moral!

Gaily sounds the castanet.

Maltese Air.

Gaily sounds the castanet,

Beating time to bounding feet,
When, after daylight's golden set,
Maids and youths by moonlight meet.

Oh! then, how sweet to move

Through all that maze of mirth,

Lighted by those eyes we love,
Beyond all eyes on earth.

Then, the joyous banquet spread

On the cool and fragrant ground,

With night's bright eye-beams over head, And still brighter sparkling round.

Oh! then, how sweet to say

Into the lov'd one's ear,

Thoughts reserv'd through many a day,
To be thus whisper'd there.

When the dance and feast are done
Arm in arm as home we stray,
How sweet to see the dawning sun
O'er her cheek's warm blushes play!

Then, then the farewell kiss,

And words whose parting tone Lingers still in dreams of bliss,

That haunt young hearts alone.

Hear me but once.

French Air.

Hear me but once, while o'er the grave,
In which our love lies cold and dead,

I count each flatt'ring hope he gave
Of joys now lost, and charms now fled.

Who could have thought the smile he wore, When first we met, would fade away!

Or that a chill would e'er come o'er

Those eyes so bright through many a day.

Joys of youth, how fleeting.

French Air.

Whisp'ring, heard by wakeful maids,
To whom the night stars guide us,
Stolen walks through moonlight shades,
With those we love beside us;
Hearts beating, at meeting,

Tears starting, at parting;
Oh! sweet youth, how soon it fades,
Sweet joys of youth, how fleeting.

Love and Hope.

Swiss Air.

At morn, beside yon summer sea,
Young Hope and Love reclin'd;

But scarce had noon-tide come, when he

Into his bark leap'd smilingly,

[hind!

And left poor Hope behind-and left poor Hope be

"I go," said Love, "to sail awhile,

Across this sunny main,"

And then so sweet his parting smile,

That Hope, who never dream'd of guile,

Believ'd he'd come again-believ'd he come again.

She linger'd there, till evening's beam
Along the waters lay;

And o'er the sands, in thoughtful dream,

Oft trac'd his name, which still the stream As often wash'd away-as often wash'd away.

At length a sail appears in sight,

And tow'rd the maiden moves;

'Tis Wealth that comes, and gay and bright, His golden bark reflects the light : But, ah, it is not Love's-it is not Love's!

Another sail-'twas Friendship show'd
Her night-lamp o'er the sea!

And calm the light that lamp bestow'd, But Love had lights that warmer glow'd, And where, alas! was he?-and where, alas! was he?

Now fast around the sea and shore
Night threw her darkling chain;
The sunny sails were seen no more,
Hope's morning dreams of bliss were o'er-

Love never came again!-Love never came again!