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French Air.

On! days of youth and joy, long clouded,

Why thus for ever haunt my view ?
When in the grave your light lay sharouded,

Why did not Memory die there too? Vainly doth Hope her strain now sing me,

Whisp'ring of joys that yet reinainNo, no, never more can this life bring me

One joy that equals youtli's sweet pain.

Dim lies the way to death before me,

Cold winds of Time blow round my brow; Sunshine of youth that once fell o'cr me,

Where is your warmth, your glory now? 'Tis not that then no pain could sting me

'Tis not that now no joys remain ; Oh! it is that life no more can bring me

One joy so sweet as that worst pain.


Venetian Air.

my sight,

1. When first that smile, like sunshine, bless'd

Oh! what a vision then came o'er me! Long years of love, of calm and pure delight, Seem'd in that smile to


before me. Ne'er did the peasant dream, ne'er dream of summer

skies, Of golden fruit and harvests springing, With fonder hope than I of those sweet eyes,

And of the joy their light was bringing.

Where now are all those fondly-promised hours ?

Oh! woman's faith is like her brightness,
Fading as fast as rainbows or day-flowers,

Or ought that's known for grace and lightness. Short as the Persian's prayer, his prayer at close of day,

Must be each vow of Love's repeating; Quick let him worship Beauty's precious ray

Even while he kneels that ray is fleeting!

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Vain was their bravery !

The fallen oak lies where it lay,
Across the wintry river;

But brave hearts, once swept away, Are gone, alas ! for ever.

III. Woe to the conqueror!

Our limbs shall lie as cold as theirs Of whom his sword bereft us,

Ere we forget the deep arrears of vengeance they have left us !


Sicilian Air.

Wuen thou shalt wander by that sweet light

We used to gaze on so many an eve,
When love was new and hope was bright,

Ere I could doubt or thou deceive Oh! then, rememb'ring how swift went by Those hours of transport, even thou may'st sigh.


Yes, proud one! even thy heart may own

That love like ours was far too sweet
To be, like summer garments, thrown aside

When past the summer's heat;
And wish in vain to know again
Such days, such nights, as bless'd thee then.

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Hymen late, his love-knots selling,
Callid at many a maiden's dwelling:
None could doubt, who saw or knew them,
Hymen's call was welcome to them.

“ Who'll buy my love-knots ?

“ Who'll buy my love-knots ?." Soon as that sweet cry resounded, How his baskets were surrounded!

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Maids, who now first dream'd of trying
These gay knots of Hymen's tying;
Dames, who long had sat to watch him
Passing by, but ne'er could catch him ;-

“ Who'll buy my love-knots ?

" Who'll buy my love-knots ?. All at that sweet cry assembled ; Some laugh'd, some blush'd, and some trembled.

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