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AGT OR, LENOX AND TILOEN FOUNDATION, The Minstrel fell! - but the foeman's

Could not bring his proud soul under;
The harp he loved ne'er spoke again,

For he tore its cords asunder:
And said, “No chains shall sully thee,

Thou soul of love and bravery !
Thy songs were made for the brave and

They shall never sound in slavery!”

Bright dreams of the past, which she

cannot destroy; Which come in the night-time of sor

row and care, And bring back the features that joy

used to wear. Long, long be my heart with such

memories filled ! Like the vase in which roses have once

been distilled You may break, you may shatter the

vase if you will, But the scent of the roses will hang

round it still.


with you.

FAREWELL! - but whenever you wel

come the hour That awakens the night-song of mirth

OH! DOUBT ME NOT. in your bower, Then think of the friend who once wel- Oh! doubt me not — the season comed it too,

Is o'er, when Folly made me And forgot his own griefs to be happy


And now the vestal, Reason, His griefs may return, not a hope may

Shall watch the fire awaked by remain

Love. Of the few that have brightened his Although this heart was early blown, pathway of pain,

And fairest hands disturbed the tree, But he ne'er will forget the short vision They only shook some blossoms down, that threw

Its fruit has all been kept for thee. Its enchantment around him, while lin- Then doubt me not — the season gering with you.

Is o'er when Folly made me

rove, And still on that evening when pleasure And now the vestal, Reason,

Shall watch the fire awaked by To the highest top sparkle each heart

Love. and each cup, Where'er my path lies, be it gloomy or bright,

And though my lute no longer My soul, happy friends, shall be with

May sing of Passion's ardent you that night;

spell, Shall join in your revels, your sports,

Yet, trust me, all the stronger and your wiles,

I feel the bliss I do not tell. And return to me beaming all o'er with The bee through many a garden roves,

And hums his lay of courtship o'er, Too blest, if it tells me that, 'mid the But, when he finds the flower he loves, gay cheer,

He settles there, and hums no more. Some kind voice had murmured, “I

Then doubt me not the season wish he were here!”

Is o'er when Folly kept me free,

And now the vestal, Reason, Let Fate do her worst; there are relics Shall guard the flame awaked by of joy,


fills up

your smiles


COME o'er the sea,

Maiden, with me,
Mine through sunshine, storm, and


Seasons may roll,

But the true soul Burns the same, where'er it goes. Let fate frown on, so we love and part

not; 'Tis life where thou art, 'tis death where

thou art not.

Then come o'er the sea,

Maiden, with me,
Come wherever the wild wind blows;

Seasons may roll,

But the true soul
Burns the same, where'er it goes.

Till William at length in sadness

said, “ We must seek our fortune on other

plains; Then, sighing, she left her lowly shed. They roamed a long and a weary way, Nor much was the maiden's heart at

ease, When now, at the close of one stormy

day, They see a proud castle among the

trees. “To-night,” said the youth, we'11

shelter there; The wind blows cold, and the hour

is late :" So he blew the horn with a chieftain's

air, And the porter bowed as they passed “Now, welcome, lady,” exclaimed the

youth, “ This castle is thine, and these dark

woods all!" She believed him crazed, but his words

were truth, For Ellen is Lady of Rosna Hall! And dearly the Lord of Rosna loves What William the stranger Woved

and wed; And the light of bliss, in these lordly

groves, Shines pure as it did in the lowly


the gate.

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You remember Ellen, our hamlet's

pride, How meekly she blessed her humble


When the stranger, William, had made

her his bride, And love was the light of their lowly

cot. Together they toiled through winds and


Has sorrow thy young days shaded,

As clouds o'er the morning fleet? Too fast have those young days faded,

That, even in sorrow, were sweet? Does Time with his cold wing wither

Each feeling that once was dear? — Then, child of misfortune, come hither

I'll weep with thee, tear for tear. Has love to that soul, so tender,

Been like our Lagenian mine, Where sparkles of golden splendor

But, if in pursuit

For brilliant eyes Again to set it glowing? No - vain, alas! th' endeavor From bonds so sweet to sever;

Poor Wisdom's chance

Against a glance
Is now as weak as ever.

All over the surface shine?

we go deeper, Allured by the gleam that shone, Ah! false as the dream of the sleeper,

Like Love, the bright ore is gone.
Has Hope, like the bird in the story,

That fitted from tree to tree
With the talisman's glittering glory

Has Hope been that bird to thee?
On branch after branch alighting,

The gem did she still display,
And, when nearest and most inviting,

Then waft the fair gem away?
If thus the young hours have fleeted,

When sorrow itself looked bright;
If thus the fair hope hath cheated,

That led thee along so light;
If thus the cold world now wither

Each feeling that once was dear:Come, child of misfortune, come hither,

I'll weep with thee, tear for tear.


COME, rest in this bosom, my own

stricken deer, Though the herd have fled from thee,

thy home is still here: Here still is the smile that no cloud can

o'ercast, And a heart and a hand all thy own to

the last.

Oh! what was love made for, if 'tis not

the same Through joy and through torment,

through glory and shame? I know not, I ask not, if guilt's in that

heart, I but know that I love thee, whatever

thou art.


THE time I've lost in wooing,
In watching and pursuing

The light that lies

In woman's eyes, Has been my heart's undoing. Though Wisdom oft has sought me, I scorned the lore she brought me,

My only books

Were woman's looks, And folly's all they've taught me. Her smile when Beauty granted, I hung with gaze enchanted,

Like him the Sprite

Whom maids by night
Oft meet in glen that's haunted.
Like him, too, Beauty won me,
But while her eyes were on me;

If once their ray

Was turned away,
Oh! winds could not outrun me.
And are those follies going?
And is my proud heart growing

Too cold or wise

Thou hast called me thy Angel in mo.

ments of bliss, And thy Angel I'll be, 'mid the horrors

of this, Through the furnace, unshrinking, thy

steps to pursue, And shield thee, and save thee, or per

ish there too.


I saw from the beach, when the morn

ing was shining, A bark o'er the waters move glori.

ously on; I came when the sun o'er that beacì

was declining, The bark was still there, but the

waters were gone.

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