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A sail in sight appears,
We hail her with three cheers :
Now we sail with the gale
From the Bay of Biscay, 0!

GO, LOVELY ROSE! E. WALLER.]

[Music by H. PHILLIPS.
Go, lovely rose !
Tell her that wastes her time and me,

That now she knows,
When I resemble her to thee,
How sweet and fair she seems to le.

Tell her that's young,
And shuns to have her graces spiel,

That hadst thou sprung
In deserts where no men abide,
Thou must have uncommended died.

Small is the worth
Of beauty from the light retired :

Bid her come forth,
Suffer herself to be desired,
And not blush so to be admired.

Then die! that she
The common fate of all things rare

May read in thee,-
How small a part of time they share
That are so wondrous sweet and fair.

ADDITIONAL VERSE.

[By HENRY KIRKE WHITE.]

Yet, though thou fade,
From thy dead leaves let fragrance rise ;

And teach the maid
That goodness Time's rude hand defies,
That virtue lives when beauty dies.

THE WOLF.
J. O'KEEFB.]

[Music by Sulo.
At the peaceful midnight hour,
Every sense and every power,
Fetter'd lies in downy sleep-
Then our careful watch we keep,
While the wolf in nightly prowl,
Bays the moon with hideous howl;
Gates are barr'd, a vain resistance-
Females shriek, but no assistance.
Silence, silence, or you meet your fate !
Your keys, your jewels, cash, and plate ;
Locks, bolts, and bars, they fiy asunder,
Then to rifle, rob, and plunder.

YES, 'TIS SPELL. H. DRAYTON.]

[Music by J. DUGGAX. Yes, 'tis a spell hath o'er me cast

Its all-absorbing power,
And thus, for ever, may it last,

E'en to my latest hour;
Let those who cannot love forego

All hopes of future bliss;
In Paradise they ne'er can kuow

More happiness than this.
Her bright eyes now before me shine,

And, laughing, seem to say.
Thou lovest me-my heart is thine-

Be happy while we may.
We will be happy, nor forego

Such hope of future bliss ;
In Paradise we ne'er can know

More happiness than this.

LOVING AND LIKING. J. E. CARPENTER.]

[Music by S. GLOVER.

FIRST VOICE. Dear Fanny, you told me one day

There a great difference was, rather striking, As great as between “yea” and “pay,

Between the words "loving" and "liking."

SECOND VOICE.

Dear sister, you can't love a rose,

You may like it, to that no objection ; You may rave about lilies, for those

You've been told, you say, suit your complexion.

DUET.

Oh! loving and liking, ah me!

What a fuss does this world make about them : But think what we maidens should be, Were we left in it lonely without them.

FIRST VOICE. I love what I like, and I like

What I love, beyond doubt, and that dearly ; So, if I the balance must strike,

Í should call them the same very clearly.

SECOND VOICE.

But loving's a different thing,

Not that I love-the weakness I spurn it; But did I, my passion should cling

Where a heart was, at least, to return it !

FIRST VOICE.

Why, Fanny, you know that

you

said
You liked very well cousin Harry.

SECOND VOICE.
But loving ne'er enter'd
Did I say that I should like to

Cumarty?

my head;

FIRST VOICE.
Ah! Fanny, I vow and declare

My maxim you soon will be proving,
And find out before you're aware

That liking so much is but loving!

DUET.

Yes! sister, I vow and declare,
&c.
&c.

&c.

THE OLD MILL-STREAM. Eliza Coor.]

[Music by H. RUSSELL. And this is the mill-stream that ten years ago Was so fast in its current, so pure in its flow; Whose musical waters would ripple and shine With the glorious dash of a miniature Rhine ? Can this be its bed ? I remember it well When it sparkled like silver through meadow and dell. And here was the miller's house-peaceful abode ! Where the flower-twined porch drew all eyes from the

roadWhere roses and jasmines embower'd the door That never was closed to the way-worn or poorWhere the miller-God bless him!-oft gave us a

dance, And led off the ball with his soul in his glance. The mill is in ruins, no welcoming sound In the mastiff's quick bark, and the wheels dashing

round. The house, too, forgotten, and left to decay; And the miller long dead-all I loved pass'd away! This play-place of childhood was graved on my heart In paradise colours that now must depart. The old water-mill's gone, the fair vision is fled, And I wept o'er its wreck as I do for the dead.

AUTUMN LEAVES LIE STREW'D AROUND. C. DICKENS.]

[Music by J. HULLAH, Autumn leaves, autumn leaves lie strewd around me

hereAutumn leaves, autumn leaves, how sad, how cold,

how drear!
How like the hopes of childhood's day,

Thick clustering on the bough;
How like those hopes in their decay,
How faded are they now!

Autumn leaves, &c. Wither'd leaves, wither'd leaves that fly before the

galeWither'd leaves, wither'd leaves, ye tell a mournful

tale !
Of love once true, of friends once kind,

And happy moments fled-
Dispersed by every breath of wind,
Forgotten, changed, or dead.

Autumn leaves, &c.

DEAR SUMMER MORN. C. JEFFERYS.]

[Music by S. GLOVER, How merrily this summer morn

The wind goes singing by,
While gracefully the rustling corn

Nods to the melody.
There's mirth, there's music ev'rywhere,

Above, around, below-
The very streamlet hath an air

Of gladness in its flow.
O summer morn, dear summer morn!
Thou play'st a char

r's part;
Thy ruddy glow is on my brow,

Thy sunshine in my heart.

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