Light sounds the harp!

Light sounds the harp when the combat is over: When heroes are resting, and joy is in bloom; When laurels hang loose from the brow of the lover, And Cupid makes wings of the warrior's plume. But, when the foe returns,

Again the hero burns.

High flames the sword in his hand once more ;
The clang of mingling arms

Is then the sound that charms,

And brazen notes of war, by thousand trumpets sung.

Light went the harp, when the war-god reclining, Lay lull'd on that white arm of Beauty to rest; When round his rich armour the myrtle hung twining, And flights of young doves made his helmet their nest.

But when the battle came,

The hero's eye breath'd flame;

Soon from his neck the white arm was flung;
While to his wak'ning ear

No other sounds were dear,

But brazen notes of war by thousand trumpets sung! But then came the light harp when danger was ended,

And Beauty once more lull'd the war-god to rest; When tresses of gold with his laurels lay blended, And flights of young doves made his helmet their

nest.

Little Mary's eye.

Little Mary's eye

Is roguish, and all that, Sir;
But her little tongue

Is quite too full of chat, Sir.
Since her eye can speak
Enough to tell her blisses,
If she stir her tongue,

Why-stop her mouth with kisses!

Oh! the little girls,

Wily, warm, and winning; When angels tempt us to it, Who can keep from sinning?

Nanny's beaming eye

Looks as warm as any, But her cheek was paleWell-a-day, poor Nanny! Nanny in the field,

She pluck'd a little posie, And Nanny's pallid cheek Soon grew sleek and rosy. Oh! the little girls, etc.

Sue, the pretty nun,

Prays with warm emotion; Sweetly rolls her eye

In love or in devotion.

7

If her pious heart

Softens to relieve you,

She gently shares the fault,

With, "Oh, may God forgive you!"

Oh! the little girls, etc.

Love and the sun-dial.

Young Love found a dial once, in a dark shade,
Where man ne'er had wander'd, nor sunbeam play'd;
"Why thus in darkness lie ?" (whisper'd young Love)
"Thou, whose gay hours should in sunshine move.”
"I ne'er (said the dial) have seen the warm sun,
"So noon-day and midnight to me, Love, are one.”
Then Love took the dial away from the shade,
And plac'd her where heaven's beam warmly play'd.
There she reclin'd beneath Love's gazing eye,
While, all mark'd with sunshine, her hours flew by!
Oh! how (said the dial) can any fair maid,
That's born to be shone upon, rest in the shade?
But night now comes on, and the sunbeam's o'er,
And Love stops to gaze on the dial no more.
Then cold and neglected, while bleak rain and winds
Are storming around her, with sorrow she finds,
That Love had but number'd a few sunny hours,
And left the remainder to darkness and show'rs!

Love and Time.

'Tis said, but whether true or not
Let bards declare who've seen 'em,
That Love and Time have only got
One pair of wings between 'em.
In courtship's first delicious hour,
The boy full oft can spare 'em,
So, loitering in his lady's bower,
He lets the greybeard wear 'em.
Then is Time's hour of play,
Oh! how he flies away!

But short the moments, short as bright,
While he the wings can borrow;

If Time to-day has had his flight,

Love takes his turn to-morrow.

Ah! Time and Love! your change is then The saddest and most trying,

When one begins to limp again,

And t'other takes to flying.

Then is Love's hour to stray;
Oh! how he flies away!

But there's a nymph whose chains I feel,
And bless the silken fetter,

Who knows, the dear one! how to deal
With Time and Love much better.

So well she checks their wanderings,

So peacefully she pairs 'em,

That Love with her ne'er thinks of wings,

And Time for ever wears 'em.

This is Time's holiday;

Oh! how he flies

away!

Love, my Mary, dwells with thee.

HE. Love, my Mary, dwells with thee;
On thy cheek his bed I see.

SHE. No, that cheek is pale with care;
Love can find no roses there.

"Tis not on the cheek of rose
Love can find the best repose;
In my heart his home thou'lt see;
There he lives, and lives for thee.

HE. Love, my Mary, ne'er can roam,
While he makes that eye his home.
No, the eye with sorrow dim,

SHE.

Ne'er can be a home for him.

Yet, 'tis not in beaming eyes
Love for ever warmest lies;
In my heart his home thou'lt see;
There he lives, and lives for thee.