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Then think of the friend who once welcomed it too,
And forgot his own griefs to be happy with you.
His griefs may return-not a hope may remain
Of the few that have brighten'd his path-way of pain
But he ne'er will forget the short vision, that threw
Its enchantment around him, while ling'ring with you!

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And still on that evening, when pleasure fills up
To the highest top sparkle each heart and each cup,
Where'er my path lies, be it gloomy or bright,
My soul, happy friends! shall be with you that night ;
Shall join in your revels, your sports, and your wiles,
And return to me, beaming all o’er with your smiles!
Too bless'd, if it tells me that, 'mid the gay cheer,
Some kind voice had murmur'd, “I wish he were here!"

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Let Fate do her worst, there are relics of joy,
Bright dreams of the past, which she cannot destroy ;
Which come, in the night-time of sorrow and care,
And bring back the features that joy used to wear.
Long, long be my heart with such memories fill'a !
Like the vase, in which roses have once been distillid-
You may break, you may ruin the vase, if you will,
But the scent of the roses will hang round it still.

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OH! doubt me not the season

Is o'er, when Folly made me rove,
And now the yestal Reason

Shall watch the fire awaked by Love. Although this heart was early blown,

And fairest hands disturb'd the tree, They only shook some blossoms down, Its fruit has all been kept for thee. Then doubt me doubt--the season

Is o’er, when Folly made me rove, And now the vestal Reason

Shall watch the fire awaked by Love.


And though my lute no longer

May sing of Passion's ardent spell, Yet, trust me, all the stronger

I feel the bliss I do not tell.

The bee through many a garden roves,

And hums his lay of courtship o'er,
But, when he finds the flower he loves,
He settles there, and hums no more.
Then doubt me not the season

Is o'er, when Folly kept me free,
And now the vestal Reason

Shall guard the flame awaked by thee.'


AIR.Were I a Clerk.

You remember ELLEN, our hamlet's pride,

How meekly she bless'd her humble lot,
When the stranger, William, had made her his bride,

And love was the light of their lowly cot. Together they toil'd through winds and rains,

Till William at length, in sadness, said, “ We must seek our fortune on other plains ;"

Then, sighing, she left her lowly shed.

* This Ballad was suggested by a well known and interesting Story, told of a certain Noble Family in England.

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They roam'd a long and a weary way,

Nor much was the maiden's heart at ease,
When now, at close of one stormy day,

They see a proud castle among the trees. To-night," said the youth, “ we'll shelter there ;

“ The wind blows cold, the hour is late :"So, he blew the horn with a chieftain's air, And the Porter bow'd as they pass'd the gate.

III. “Now, welcome, Lady !" exclaim'd the youth,

“ This castle is thine, and these dark woods all. She believed him wild, but his words were truth,

For ELLEN is Lady of Rosna Hall! And dearly the Lord of Rosna loves

What William the stranger woo'd-and wed; And the light of bliss, in these lordly groves,

Is pure as it shone in the lowly shed.


AIR.---The Rose-Tre

I'd mourn the hopes that leave me,

If thy smiles had left me too;
I'd weep when friends deceive me,

If thou wert, like them, untrue.
But, while I've thee before me, ,

With heart so warm and eyes so bright, No clouds can linger o'er me,

That smile turns them all to light!


'Tis not in fate to harm me,

While fate leaves thy love to me; 'Tis not in joy to charm me,

Unless joy be shared with thee.
One minute's dream about thee

Were worth a long, an endless year
Of waking bliss without thee,
My own love, my only dear



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