Sweeter be than breath Sigh'd in slavery, Round the flag of Freedom rally, NOW LET THE WARRIOR. Now let the warrior plume his steed, And wave his sword afar ; For the men of the East this day shall bleed, And the sun shall blush with war. Victory sits on the Christian's helm To guide her holy band: The Knight of the Cross this day shall whelm The men of the Pagan land. Oh! bless'd who in the battle dies! GOD will enshrine him in the skies! Now let the warrior plume his steed, And wave his sword afar, For the men of the East this day shall bleed, And the sun shall blush with war. OH, LADY FAIR! I. OH, Lady fair! where art thou roaming? And who is the man, with his white locks flowing? A wand'ring Pilgrim, weak, I falter, Chill falls the rain, night winds are blowing, II. Fair Lady! rest till morning blushes- Oh, stranger! when my beads I'm counting, OH! REMEMBER THE TIME. THE CASTILIAN MAID. I. OH! remember the time, in La Mancha's shades, When our moments so blissfully flew; When you call'd me the flower of Castilian maids, And I blush'd to be call'd so by you. When I taught you to warble the gay seguadille, And to dance to the light castanet; Oh! never, dear youth, let you roam where you will, The delight of those moments forget. II. They tell me, you lovers from Erin's green isle And that soon, in the light of some lovelier smile, But they know not how brave in the battle you are, Or they never could think you would rove; For 'tis always the spirit most gallant in war That is fondest and truest in love! OH! SEE THOSE CHERRIES. I. OH! see those cherries-though once so glowing, They've lain too long on the sun-bright wall; And mark! already their bloom is going; Too soon they'll wither, too soon they'll fall. Once, caught by their blushes, the light bird flew round, Oft on their ruby lips leaving love's wound; But now he passes them, ah! too knowing To taste wither'd cherries, when fresh may found. II. Old Time thus fleetly his course is running; be If bards were not moral, how maids would go wrong! And thus thy beauties, now sunn'd and sunning, Would wither if left on the rose-tree too long. Then love while thou'rt lovely-e'en I should be glad So sweetly to save thee from ruin so sad; But, oh! delay not-we bards are too cunning To sigh for old beauties when young may be had. OH! SOON RETURN. I. THE white sail caught the evening ray, Through many a clime our ship was driven, When evening bid the west wave burn, I thought I heard her faintly say, "Oh! soon return!-Oh! soon return!" II. If ever yet my bosom found Its thoughts one moment turn'd from thee, 'Twas when the combat raged around, And brave men look'd to me. But though 'mid battle's wild alarm Which made even danger dear. |