THE MANIAC. Partly by G. M. LEWIS, Author of "The Monk," and partly by HENRY RUSSELL, Composer of the Music. HUSH! 'tis the night-watch: he guards my lonely cell; He comes, he comes this way! Yes; 'tis the night-watch; I mark his glimmering lamp; I see its distant ray. Oh, release me! oh, release me! No, by Heaven-no, by Heaven, I am not mad! I loved her sincerely, I loved her too dearly, I loved her in sorrow, in joy, and in pain; But my heart is forsaken, yet ever will awaken, The mem❜ry of bliss which will neʼer come again. I see her dancing in the hall, I see her dancing in the hall ! Oh, release me, &c. He quits the grate, he turns the key; His glimmering lamp still, still I see, Cold, bitter cold; no life, no light; Life, all thy comforts once I had, But here I'm chained this freezing night; No, by Heaven-no, by Heaven, I am not mad! For lo, you! while I speak, Oh, release me, &c. Mark how yon demon's eye-balls glare! He whirls me in the air! Horror! the reptile strikes his tooth Deep in my heart, so crushed and sad. Aye, laugh, ye fiends-laugh, laugh, ye fiends! I see her dancing in the hall Oh, release me-oh, release me ! Yes, by Heaven-yes, by Heaven, they've driven me mad! Р WINTER. WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE, from "Love's Labour Lost." WHEN icicles hang by the wall, And Dick the shepherd blows his nail, And milk comes frozen home in the pail ; Tu-whit! tu-whoo! a merry note When all aloud the wind doth blow, And coughing drowns the parson's saw, And Marion's nose looks red and raw; Tu-whit! Tu-whoo! a merry note, BLOW, BLOW, THOU WINTER WIND. WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE, from "As You Like it." BLOW, blow, thou winter wind, Thou art not so unkind, As man's ingratitude ! Thy tooth is not so keen, Because thou art not seen, Although thy breath be rude. Heigh, ho sing heigh, ho! unto the green holly, Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly. Then heigh, ho! the holly! This life is most jolly. Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky; Thou dost not bite so nigh As benefits forgot! Though thou the waters warp, YOUTH AND AGE. CRABBED Age and Youth Youth is full of pleasure- Age like winter weather; Youth is full of sport― Age's breath is short; Youth is nimble, Age is lame, Youth is hot and bold Age is weak and cold; Youth is wild, and Age is tame; Age, I do abhor thee— Youth, I do adore thee, Oh, my love—my love is gone. Age, I do defy thee. Oh, sweet shepherd, hie thee ; Methinks thou stay'st too long. "This song," says Bishop Percy, "is found in the little collection of Shakspeare's sonnets, entitled 'The Passionate Pilgrim.' In 'The Garland of the Good-will,' it is reprinted with the addition of four more such stanzas, but evidently written by a meaner pen." IN PRAISE OF MELANCHOLY. HENCE all you vain delights But only melancholy; Welcome, folded arms, and fixed eyes, A look that's fasten'd to the ground, Fountain-heads, and pathless groves, Then stretch our bones in a still gloomy valley; Nothing's so dainty sweet as lovely melancholy. Milton was possibly under some obligations to this song, when he wrote his "Il Penseroso." Hazlitt calls it "the perfection of this kind of writing." (Lectures on Dram. Lit. 1840, p. 208.) It is generally attributed to Fletcher, who introduced it in the play of "The Nice Valour," act iii. sc. 3; but the author was more probably Dr. William Strode. See "Notes and Queries," vol. i. LOSS IN DELAYS. ROBERT SOUTHWELL, born 1562, died 1596. SHUN delays, they breed remorse, Take thy time, while time is lent thee; Creeping snails have weakest force, Fly their fault, lest thou repent thee: Hoist up sail, while gale doth last, Tide and wind stay no man's pleasure; Seek not time when time is past, Sober speed is wisdom's leisure : After-wits are dearly bought, Let thy fore-wit guide thy thought. Time wears all his locks before, Take thou hold upon his forehead; When he flies he turns no more, And behind, his scalp is naked: Works adjourn'd have many stays, |