Obrázky na stránke

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.

1. 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 toild 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.

[ocr errors]

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



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.


“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




And, though the hope be gone, love,

That long sparkled o'er our way, Oh! we shall journey on, love,

More safely without its ray.
Far better lights shall win me

Along the path I've yet to roam,-
The mind that burns within me,

smiles from thee at home.


Thus, when the lamp that lighted

The traveller, at first goes out, He feels awhile benighted,

And looks round, in fear and doubt. But soon, the prospect clearing,

By cloudless starlight on he treads, And thinks no lamp so cheering

As that light which Heaven sheds!


« PredošláPokračovať »