AMERICAN MELODIES.

THE CARRIER PIGEON.

BY JAMES G. PERCIVAL.

Come hither, thou beautiful rover,

Thou wand'rer of earth and of air; Who bearest the sighs of a lover,

And bringest him news from his fair. Bend hither thy light-waving pinion,

And show me the gloss of thy neck ; O perch on my hand, dearest minion, And turn up thy bright eye and peck.

Here is bread of the whitest and sweetest,

And there is a sip of red wine; Though thy wing is the lightest and fleetest,

'Twill be fleeter when nerved by the vine : I have written on rose-scented paper,

With thy wing quill, a soft billet-doux, I have melted the wax in love's taper, 'Tis the colour of true hearts, sky blue.

I have fastened it under thy pinion,

With a blue ribbon round thy soft neck; So go from me, beautiful minion,

While the blue ether shows not a speck: Like a cloud in dim distance fleeting,

Like an arrow he hurries away; And farther, and farther retreating,

He is lost in the clear blue of day.

SPARKLING AND BRIGHT.

BY C. F. HOFFMAN.

SPARKLING and bright in liquid light

Does the wine our goblets gleam in,
With hue as red as the rosy bed
Which a bee would wish to dream in.
Then fill to-night with hearts as light,

To loves as gay and fleeting
As bubbles that swim on the beaker's brim,

And break on the lips while meeting.

Oh! if Mirth might arrest the flight

Of Time, through Life's dominions,
We here awhile would now beg
The Graybeard of his pinions
To drink to-night with hearts as light,

To loves as gay and fleeting

As bubbles that swim on the beaker's brim,

And break on the lips while meeting.

But since delight can't tempt the wight,

Nor fond regret delay him
Nor Love himself can hold the elf,
Nor sober Friendship stay him,
We'll drink to-night with hearts as light,

To loves as gay and fleeting
As bubbles that swim on the beaker's brim,

And break on the lips while meeting.

THE LAST SONG,

BY JAMES G. BROOKS.

STRIKE the wild harp yet once again!

Again its lonely numbers pour; Then let the melancholy strain

Be hushed in death for evermore. For evermore, for evermore,

Creative fancy, be thou still ; And let oblivious Lethe pour

Upon my lyre its waters chill.

Strike the wild harp yet once again!

Then be its fitful chords unstrung, Silent as is the grave's domain,

And mute as the death-mouldered tongue.

Let not a thought of memory dwell

One moment on its former song ;
Forgotten, too, be this farewell,

Which plays its pensive strings along !

Strike the wild harp yet once again!

The saddest and the latest lay;
Then break at once its strings in twain,

And they shall sound no more for aye:
And hang it on the cypress tree,

The hours of youth and song have passed,
Have gone, with all their witchery;

Lost lyre! these numbers are thy last.

DRINK AND AWAY.

BY THE REV. WILLIAM CROSWELL.

[There is a beautiful rill in Barbary received into a large basin, which bears a name signifying “Drink and away,” from the great danger of meeting with rogues and assassins.—Dr. Shaw.]

Up! pilgrim and rover,

Redouble thy haste!
Nor rest thee till over

Life's wearisome waste.
Ere the wild forest ranger

Thy footsteps betray
To trouble and danger,-

Oh, drink and away!

Here lurks the dark savage

By night and by day,
To rob and to ravage,

Nor scruples to slay.
He waits for the slaughter:

The blood of his prey
Shall stain the still water,

Then drink and away.

With toil though thou languish,

The mandate obey,
Spur on, though in anguish,

There's death in delay!
No bloodhound, want-wasted,

Is fiercer than they :
Pass by it untasted-
Or, drink and

away.

Though sore be the trial,

Thy God is thy stay,
Though deep the denial,

Yield not in dismay,
But, wrapt in high vision,

Look on to the day
When the fountains Elysian

Thy thirst shall allay.

There shalt thou for ever

Enjoy thy repose Where life's gentle river Eternally flows.