There comes a time. German Air. There comes a time, a dreary time, Tis when his soul must first renounce There comes a time, a dreary time, When sets the sun on Afric's shore, And so should life at once be o'er, Nor, like our northern day, gleam on The cold remains of lustre gone, Oh! there comes a time, a dreary time, To him whose heart hath flown O'er all the fields of youth's sweet prime, And made each flower its own. When Love was a child. When Love was a child, and went idling round O'er head from the trees hung a garland fair, A fountain ran darkly beneath; 'Twas pleasure that hung the bright flowers up there, Love knew it, and jump'd at the wreath. But Love didn't know, and at his weak years That sorrow had made of her own salt tears, He caught at the wreath but with too much haste, It fell in those waters of briny taste, Yet this is the wreath he wears night and day, With pleasure's own lustre, each leaf, they say, Say, what shall be our sport to-day? Say, what shall be our sport to-day, There's nothing on earth, in sea, or air, Too bright, too bold, too high, too gay, For spirits like mine to dare! "Tis like the returning bloom, Of those days, alas, gone by, When I lov'd, each hour, I scarce knew whom, And was blest I scarce knew why. Ay, those were days, when life had wings, And, though of some plumes bereft, I've enough of light and wing still left, Bright be thy dreams. Bright be thy dreams, may all thy weeping Those, by death or seas remov'd, Friends who in thy spring-time knew thee, All thou'st ever priz'd or lov'd, In dreams come smiling to thee! There may the child whose love lay deepest, Dearest of all, come, while thou sleepest; Still the same, no charm forgot, Nothing lost that life had given; Or, if chang'd, but chang'd to what, Thou❜lt find her yet in heaven. Go then-'tis vain. Go then 'tis vain to hover Thus round a hope that's dead; At length my dream is over 'Twas sweet-'twas false-'tis fled. Farewell, since nought it moves thee Farewell, sweet eyes, whose brightness New life around me shed. Farewell, false heart, whose lightness Now leaves me death instead. Go now, those charms surrender To some new lover's sigh, The crystal hunters. O'er mountains, bright with snow and light, No lover half so fondly dreams Sometimes, when o'er the Alpine rose, So like a gem the flow'ret glows, |