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The Baron de Vaux hath a valiant crest,

My Lady is fair and free;
The Baron is full of mirth and jest,

My Lady is full of glee;
But their path, we know, is a path of woe,

And many the reason guess,— *The Baron will ever mutter “No,"

When my Lady whispers “ Yes."


The Baron will pass the wine-cup round,

My Lady forth will roam;
The Baron will out with horse and bound, -

My Lady sits at home;
The Baron will go to draw the bow,-

My Lady will go to chess;
And the Baron will ever mutter “No,"

When my Lady whispers “ Yes.”

The Baron hath ears for a lovely lay,

If my Lady sings it not;

The Butron is blind to a beauteous day,

If it beam in my Lady's grot;
The Baron bows low to a furbelow,

If it be not my Lady's dress;
And the Baron will ever mutter “No,"

When my Lady whispers “ Yes."

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Now saddle my steed, and helm my head,

Be ready in the porch;
Stout Guy, with a ladder of silken thread,

And trusty Will, with a torch :
The wind may blow, the torrent flow,-

No matter, -on we press;
I never can hear the Baron’s “No”

When my Lady whispers “Yes."



Tell him I love him yet,

As in that joyous time;
Tell him I ne'er forget,

Though memory now be crime;
Tell him, when sad moonlight

Is over earth and sea,
I dream of him by night,-

He must not dream of me!

Tell him to go where Fame

Looks proudly on the brave;
Tell him to win a name

By deeds on land and wave;
Green, green upon his brow

The laurel wreath shall be;
Although the laurel now

May not be shared with me.


Tell him to smile again

In Pleasure's dazzling throng, Vol. II.—16

To wear another's chain,

To praise another's song.
Before the loveliest there

I'd have him bend his knee,
And breathe to her the prayer

He used to breathe to me.


And tell him, day by day

Life looks to me more dim;
I falter when I pray,

Although I pray for him.
And bid him, when I die,

Come to our favorite tree;
I shall not hear him sigh,-

Then let him sigh for me!

(JULY 20, 1829.)

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WHERE is Miss Myrtle ? can any one tell ?

Where is she gone, where is she gone ? She flirts with another, I know very well;

And I-am left all alone! She flies to the window when Arundel rings,She's all over smiles when Lord Archibald sings,– It's plain that her Cupid has two pair of wings :

Where is she gone, where is she gone ? Her love and my love are different things;

And I-am left all alone!


I brought her, one morning, a rose for her brow;

Where is she gone, where is she gone ?
She told me such horrors were never worn now :

And I-am left all alone!
But I saw her at night with a rose in her hair,
And I guess who it came from-of course I don't

care! We all know that girls are as false as they're fair;

Where is she gone, where is she gone ?

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