If for one bright form alone
The heart responsive swells,-
Oh! 'tis then that all must own
There is truth in fairy spells !
If thy lot in life be cast
Away from splendour's shrine;
If amid misfortune's blasts,
Two faithful hearts entwine ;
If love, and hope, and truth,
Ev'ry doubt and grief dispels;
Oh! then wrinkled age and youth
Own the truth of fairy spells.
WE ALL LOVE A PRETTY GIRL.
ONS! neighbours, ne'er blush for a trifle like this,
What harm with a fair one to toy and to kiss?
The greatest and gravest-a truce with grimace,
Would do the same thing were they in the same place.
No age, no profession, no station is free,
To sovereign beauty mankind bends the knee;
What power, resistless, no strength can oppose,
We all love a pretty girl under the rose.
[Music by SIR H. R. BISHOP.]
GOOD night, good rest, ah! neither be my share,
She bade good night, that kept my rest away,
And daft me to a cabin hang'd with care,
To descant on the doubt of my decay.
"Farewell," quoth she, "and come again to-morrow," Farewell I could not, for I supp'd with sorrow.
FAREWELL! I go to the far off land;
But tho' bright that land may be,
There is not a home in the wide, wide world,
That can win my heart from thee.
In the courtly throng of the strangers' halls
I shall think of the happy band,
And the many joys I have shar'd with them
In the homes of my fatherland.
I shall count the days till the hour returns
That shall bring me back to thee, —
To the home I love, and the kindly hearts
That have made it dear to me.
Oh! what joy will burst on my raptur'd sight
When I see the waving hand,
And hear the song I have lov'd so well
In the homes of my fatherland.
And hear the song, &c.
NIGH to a grave that was newly made,
Leaned a sexton old on his earth-worn spade:
His work was done, and he paus'd to wait
The funeral train through the open gate.
A relic of bygone days was he,
And his locks were white as the foamy sea;
And these words came from bis lips so thin,
"I gather them in,-I gather them in !
"I gather them in! For man and boy,
Year after year of grief and joy,
I've builded the houses that lie around,
In ev'ry nook of the burial-ground;
Mother and daughter, father and son,
Come to my solitude, one by one;
But come they strangers, or come they kin,
I gather them in,-I gather them in!
"Many are with me, but still I'm alone,
I'm king of the dead, and I make my throne
On a monument slab or a marble cold,
And my sceptre of rule is the spade I hold.
Come they from cottage, or come they from hall,
Mankind are my subjects, all, all, all.
Let them toil in pleasure or joyfully spin,
I gather them in,-I gather them in!
"I gather them in, and their final rest
Is here, down here in the earth's dark breast!"
And the sexton ceased, for the fun'ral train
Wound mutely over that solemn plain.
And I said to myself,-"When time is old,
A mightier voice than this sexton's bold
Will sound o'er the last trump's dreadful din,
'I gather them in,-I gather them in!'"
A SAILOR'S PHILOSOPHY.
[CHARLES DIBDIN.]
WHAT argufies pride and ambition?
Soon or late death will take us in tow;
Each bullet has got its commission,
And when our time's come we must go.
Then drink and sing-hang pain and sorrow,
The halter was made for the neck;
He that's now alive and lusty-to-morrow
Perhaps may be stretched on the deck.
There was little Tom Linstock, of Dover,
Got kill'd, and left Polly in pain;
Poll cried, but her grief was soon over,
And then she got married again.
Then drink, &c.
Jack Junk was ill-used by Bet Crocker,
And so took to guzzling the stuff,
Till he tumbled in old Davy's locker,
And there he got liquor enough.
For our prize-money then to the proctor,
Take of joy while 'tis going our freak;
For what argufies calling the doctor
When the anchor of life is apeak.
OH! SAILOR BOY, PEACE TO THY SOUL.
IN slumbers of midnight the sailor-boy lay,
His hammock swang loose at the sport of the wind, But, watch-worn and weary, his cares flew away, And visions of happiness danced o'er his mind : He dreamt of his home, of his dear native bowers, And pleasures that waited on life's merry morn, Whilst mem'ry stood sideways, half covered with flowers,
And restored ev'ry rose, but secreted a thorn.
The jessamine clambers in flowers o'er the thatch,
And the swallow sings sweet from the nest in the
wall,
All trembling with transport, he raises the latch,
And the voice of beloved ones reply to his call:
A father bends o'er him with looks of delight,
His cheek is impearl'd with a mother's fond tear, And the lips of the boy in a love kiss unite
With the lips of the maid whom his bosom holds dear.
Oh! sailor boy, sailor boy, never again
Shall peace, love, or kindred, thy wishes repay; Unblest and unhonour'd, down deep in the main, Full many score fathom thy form shall decay.
Days, months, years and ages, shall circle away,
And still the vast waters above thee shall roll;
Earth loosens thy body for ever and aye,
Oh! sailor boy, sailor boy, peace to thy soul.
J. R. PLANCHE.]
[Music by W. V. WALLACE.
OH, not by the river, though bright be its tide,
And fragrant the blossoms that fringe its fair side,
Nor yet in the lime grove, although its deep shade
Seems a shelter for lovers by Love himself made.
Not there be our meeting, the stream and the bower
Have witnessed fond vows falsehood broke in an hour;
The murmuring wave and the whispering tree
Are full of sad warnings, not there let it be.
And not in the valley, its emerald green,
With the tears of repentance oft watered have been, Nor yet on the cliff, for its forehead so bare,
Hath rung with the shriek of a lost one's despair. "Then where," dost thou ask me, "oh, where shall we meet,
Where shall solitude render Love's sweet voice more sweet?"
"Go find me the spot upon mountain or glade,
Where woman hath listened and man not betrayed !"
MARK'D YOU HER EYE OF
HEAVENLY BLUE?
[Music by SPOFFORTH.]
MARK'D you her eye of heavenly blue?
Mark'd you her cheek of roseate hue?
That eye in liquid circles moving;
That cheek abash'd at man's approving?
The one, love's arrows darting round,
The other blushing at the wound.
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