'Tis the hour-the time of meeting- Could I live that parting o'er : That I would not come once more! Could that have been the night-wind I will fly, but to his bosom, THE SILENT LOVER. PASSIONS are liken'd best to floods and streams, The shallow murmur, but the deep are dumb; So, when affection yields discourse, it seems The bottom is but shallow whence they come, They that are rich in words must needs discover They are but poor in that which makes a lover. Wrong not, sweet mistress of my heart, With thinking that he feels no smart, Since, if my plaints were not t' approve For knowing that I sue to serve I rather choose to want relief, Than venture the revealing; Silence in love betrays more woe Then wrong not, dearest to my heart! He smarteth most who hides his smart, SONG. SHOULD all who throng, with gift and song, The monarch of a world wert thou, Though tyrant chains my form might bow, Until its hour shall come, my heart 'Twould sooner break than bend to thee! SONG.. WHERE shall the lover rest, Whom the Fates sever From his true maiden's breast, Parted for ever? Where, through groves deep and high,. Sounds the far billow, Where early violets die,. Under the willow. There, through the summer day, Cool streams are laving; There, while the tempests sway, Scarce are boughs waving; There, thy rest shalt thou take, Parted for ever, Never again to wake, Never,.O never! Where shall the traitor rest, He, the deceiver, Who could win a maiden's breast, Ruin, and leave her? In the lost battle, Borne down by the flying, Where mingles war's rattle With groans of the dying. Her wings shall the eagle flap O'er the false hearted: His warm blood the wolf shall lap, Ere life be parted. Shame and dishonour sit By his grave ever; Blessing shall hallow it,— Never, O never! IF THOU HAST CRUSHED A FLOWER.. O cast thou not Affection from thee! In this bitter world, Hold to thy heart that only treasure fast; IF thou hast crushed a flower, The string which thou hast broken,. Shall never in sweet sounds again Give to thy touch a token! If thou hast loosed a bird Whose voice of song would cheer thee, Still, still he may be won From the skies to warble near thee: But if upon the troubled sea Thou hast thrown a gem unheeded, Hope not that wind or wave will bring T If thou hast bruised a vine, Through the leaves of their bloom revealing; With a bright draught filled-oh! never The heart is like that cup, If thou waste the love it bore thee; Which the deep will not restore thee: THE WIFE'S REMONSTRANCE. Oн, why are you sad when all others are gay? In all her old beauty-then why art thou sad? True, some friends grow faithless, seem cold and estranged, Let us cherish them deep in our hearts, and be glad, You say we are poor!-ah, I have not forgot Why fear for the future ?-for nine years or more I know there are seasons when, strive as we will, There are dark-boding visions of trouble and pain Let us humbly hope on-and if dark be our way, Though tempests and whirlwinds may rage through the skies, LADY LOVE, LADY LOVE, ROAM WITH ME. OH lady, sweet lady, a while let us roam; The songsters of heav'n are mute on the bough: The sun long has sunk to its home in the west, FAIR HELEN OF KIRCONNEL. "Fair Helen of Kirkonnel," as she is called in the Scottish Minstrelsy, throwing herself between her betrothed lover and a rival by whom his life was assailed, received a mortal wound, and died in the arms of the former. HOLD me upon thy faithful heart, Keep back my flitting breath; 'Tis early, early to depart, Belov'd-yet this is death. |