CCXXVIII.

O BEAUTY, PEERLESS IS THY GLOW,

O beauty, peerless is thy glow,

Resistless beams thy streaming eye, When the soft tears of pity flow,

For heroes who in battle die,

Who would not die the warrior's death,
When beauty weaves the cypress wreath!

Nor cheerless shall the widow sigh,
The soldier's offspring friendless roam ;
The tear enthron'd in beauty's eye,

Are stars to guide the wand'rers home.
Who would not die the warrior's death,
When beauty weaves the cypress wreath!

CCXXIX.

O WHEN AGAIN SHALL MY EYES ROVE *.

O when again shall my eyes rove,
O'er all the objects of my love?

Our cottages, our chrystal rills,
Our hamlets, and our native hills.
O when again shall my eyes rove,
O'er all the objects of my love?

The flower, the beauty of our dell,
The lovely, gentle Isabelle;

In the elm's shade, when shall I bound
To the sweet pipe's enchanting sound,
When, when again shall wander sight,
On all the objects of delight.

My father and my mother,

My sister and my brother;
My flocks, and lambs that bleat,
My shepherdess so sweet.

O when again, &c.

These simple stanzas are a translation of the poetry sung by the Swiss to the celebrated Rans de Vatch. Rousseau says, the air impressed them with so violent a desire to return home to their own country, that it was forbidden to be played in the Swiss regiments, in the French service, on pain of

death.

CCXXX.

O, WHEN SHALL I VISIT THE LAND OF MY BIRTH+.

O, when shall I visit the land of my birth,
The loveliest land on the face of the earth?
When shall I those scenes of affection explore,
Our forests, our fountains,

Our hamlets, our mountains,

With the pride of our vallies, the maid I adore?
O, when shall I dance on the daisy-white mead,
In the shade of an elm, to the sound of the reed?

When shall I return to that lowly retreat,
Where all my fond objects of tenderness meet,-
The lambs and the heifers that follow my call,
My father, my mother,

My sister, my brother,

And dear Isabella, the joy of them all?

O, when shall I visit the land of my birth?

'Tis the lovliest land on the face of the earth!

+ This is another translation of the preceding celebrated song, by Mr. Montgomery, author of "The Wanderer in Switzerland," &c.

Gg 3

Oft in the stilly night,

Ere slumber's chain has bound me, Fond mem'ry brings the light

Of other days around me.

The smiles, the tears,

Of boy-hood's years,

The words of love then spoken,

The eyes that shone,

Now dimm'd and gone,

The cheerful vow now broken.

Thus in the stilly night,

Ere slumber's chain has bound me,

Sad mem'ry brings the light

Of other days around me.

When I remember all

The friends so linked together,

I've seen around me fall,

Like leaves in wintry weather,

I feel like one

Who treads alone

Some banquet hall deserted,
Whose lights are fled,

Whose garlands dead,

And all but me departed.

Thus in the stilly night,

Ere slumber's chain has bound me,

Sad mem❜ry brings the light

Of other days around me.

CCXXXII.

THOUGH YON FAREWEEL MAY BE THE LAST.

AIR-Thou'rt gane awa'.

Though yon fareweel may be the last,
When I took leave o' thee, Katy;
I'll mind you when lang years hae past—
Will you remember me, Katy?

When tost upon the raging main,

As loud the wild storms blow, Katy;
O! wha will cheer the trying scene,
When thou art far awa', Katy?