Page images
PDF
EPUB

Round the flag of freedom rally,

Cheerily oh! cheerily oh! Cheerily, cheerily, &c.

THE LIGHT HOUSE.

The scene was more beautiful far to my eye,

Than if day in its pride had array'd it, The land breeze blew mild, and the azure arch'd sky

Look'd pure as the Spirit that made it : The murmur rose soft as I silently gaz'd

In the shadowy waves' playful motion, From the dim distant hill, 'till the Light-house fire

blaz'd
Like a star in the midst of the ocean.
No longer the joy of the sailor boy's breast

Was heard in his wildly breath'd numbers,
The sea-bird had flown to her wave girdled nest,

The fisherman sunk to his slumbers :
One moment I look'd from the hill's gentle slope,

All hush'd was the billows' commotion, And tho't that the Light-house look'd lovely as hope,

That star of life's tremulous ocean.

The time is long past, and the scene is afar,

Yet when my head rests on its pillow, Will memory sometimes rekindle the star

That blaz'd on the breast of the billow :

In life's closing hour, when the trembling soul flies,

And death stills the heart's last emotion ; O then may the seraph of mercy arise,

Like a star on eternity's ocean.

LOVE MY MARY.

2d Voice.. Love, my Mary, dwells with thee,

On thy cheek his bed I see ;
1st Voice.No, that cheek is pale with care,

Love can find no roses there;
No, no, no, no, no, no,

No roses there, no, no.
Duett...... 'Tis not on the cheek of rose,

Love can find the best repose,
In
my

heart his home thou’lt see,
There he lives, and lives for thee.

2d Voice..Love, my Mary, ne'er can roam,

While he makes that eye his home, 1st Voice.No, the eye with sorrow dim,

Ne'er can be a home for him,
Ne'er can be, no, no, no,

A home for him, no, no.
Duett......Yet 'tis not in beaming eyes

Love for ever warmest lies ;
In my heart his home thou’lt see,
There he lives, and lives for thee.

2

I KNEW BY THE SMOKE.

I Knew by the smoke that so gracefully curl'd

Above the green elms, that a cottage was near, And I said, “ If there's peace to be found in the world,

“ A heart that was bumble might hope for it here.” 'Twas noon, and on flowers that languish'd around

In silence repos'd the voluptuous bee: Every leaf was at rest, and I heard not a sound But the wood-pecker, tapping the hollow beech-tree.

And “Here in this lone little wood," 1 exclaim'd,

“ With a maid who was lovely to soul, and to eye, " Who would blush when I prais'd her, and weep

when I blam'd, “ How blest could I live, and how calm could I die! By the shade of yon sumach, whose red berry dips

6. In the gush of the fountain how sweet to recline, " And to know that I sigh'd upon innocent lips, “ Which had never been sigh'd on, by any but mine!”

A SPIRIT THERE IS.

A SPIRIT there is, whose fragrant sigh

Is burning now through earth and air, Where cheeks are blushing, the spirit is nigh,

Where lips are meeting, the spirit is there!

His breath is the soul of flowers like these,

And his floating eyes--oh! they resemble Blue water-lilies,* when the breeze

Is making the stream around them tremble.

Hail to thee, hail to thee, kindling power!

Spirit of love, spirit of bliss !
Thy holiest time is the moonlight hour,

And there never was moonlight so sweet as this.

By the fair and brave,

Who blushing unite,
Like the sun and wave,

When they meet at night!

By the tear that shows

When passion is nigh,
As the rain-drop flows

From the heat of the sky!

By the first love-beat

Of the youthful heart,
By the bliss to meet,

And the pain to part !

Ву

all that thou hast To mortals given,

* The blue lotos, which grows in Cashmere, and in Persia.

Which-oh! could it last,

This earth were heaven!

We call thee hither, entrancing power!

Spirit of love! spirit of bliss !
Thy holiest time is the moonlight hour,

And there never was moonlight so sweet as this.

TELL ME NOT OF JOYS ABOVE.

Tell me not of joys above,

If that world can give no bliss,
Truer, happier than the love

Which enslaves our souls in this !

Tell me not of Houris'

eyes;
Far from me their dangerous glow,
If those looks that light the skies

Wound like some that burn below!

Who that feels what love is here,

All its falsehood, all its pain,
Would, for e'en Elysium's sphere,

Risk the fatal dream again?

Who, that midst a desert's heat
Sees the waters fade

away,
Would not rather die than meet

Streams again as false as they?

« PreviousContinue »