JEPHTHA'S DAUGHTER.
L

Since our Country, our God—Oh, my Sire
Demand that thy Daughter expire;
Since thy triumph was bought by thy vow—
Strike the bosom that's bared for thee now!

II.

And the voice of my mourning is o'er,
And the mountains behold me no more:
If the hand that I love lay me low,
There cannot be pain in the blow!

III.

And of this, oh, my Father! be sure—
That the blood of thy child is as pure
As the blessing I beg ere it flow,
And the last thought that soothes me below.

IV.

Though the virgins of Salem lament,
Be the judge and the hero unbent!
I have won the great battle for thee,
And my Father and Country are free!

V.

When this blood of thy giving hath gush'd,
When the voice that thou lovest is hush'd,
Let my memory still be thy pride,
And forget not I smiled as I died!

OH! SNATCHED AWAY IN BEAUTY'S BLOOM.

I.

Oh ! SNATCHED AWAY IN BEAUTY'S BLOOM,

On thee shall press no ponderous tomb;
But on thy turf shall roses rear
Their leaves, the earliest of the year;

And the wild cypress wave in tender gloom:

II.

And oft by yon blue gushing stream
Shall Sorrow lean her drooping head,

And feed deep thought with many a dream,
And lingering pause and lightly tread;
Fond wretch! as if her step disturbed the dead!

in.

Away; we know that tears are vain,
That death nor heeds nor hears distress

Will this unteach us to complain?
Or make one mourner weep the less?

And thou—who tell'st me to forget,
Thy looks are wan, thine eyes are wet.

MY SOUL IS DARK.

I.

My Soul Is Dark—Oh ! quickly string

The harp I yet can brook to hear; And let thy gentle fingers fling

Its melting murmurs o'er mine ear. If in this heart a hope be dear,

That sound shall charm it forth again; If in these eyes there lurk a tear,

Twill flow, and cease to burn my brain

n.

But bid the strain be wild and deep,
Nor let thy notes of joy be first:

I tell thee, minstrel, I must weep,
Or else this heavy heart will burst;