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And yet, since last thy chord resounded,
An hour of peace and triumph came, And many an ardent bosom bounded
With hopes—that now are turn’d to shame. Yet even then, while Peace was singing
Her halcyon song o'er land and sea, Though joy and hope to others bringing,
She only brought new tears to thee.
My drooping Harp! from chords like thine ? Alas, the lark's gay morning measure
As ill would suit the swan's decline !
Invoke thy breath for Freedom's strains, When even the wreaths, in which I dress thee,
Are sadly mix’d-half flowers, half chains !
One breath of joy-oh, breathe for me,
How sweet thy music still can be ;
How gaily, even 'mid gloom surrounding,
Thou yet canst wake at pleasure's thrillLike Memnon's broken image, sounding,
’Mid desolation, tuneful still? *
AS SLOW OUR SHIP.
AIR.—The Girl I left behind me.
As slow our ship her foamy track
Against the wind was cleaving,
To that dear isle 'twas leaving.
From all the links that bind us;
To those we've left behind us!
years We talk, with joyous seeming,
* Dimidio magicæ resonant ubi Memnone chordæ, Atque vetus Thebe centum jacet obruta portis.
With smiles, that might as well be tears,
So faint, so sad their beaming ;
Each early tie that twined us,
To those we've left behind us !
And when, in other climes, we meet
Some isle or vale enchanting, Where all looks flowery, wild, and sweet,
And nought but love is wanting ; We think how great had been our bliss,
If Heaven had but assign'd us To live and die in scenes like this
With some we've left behind us !
When eastward darkly going,
Still faint behind them glowing, So, when the close of pleasure's day
To gloom hath near consign'd us, We turn to catch one fading ray
Of joy that's left behind us.
IN THE MORNING OF LIFE.
AIR. -The little Harvest Rose.
I. In the morning of life, when its cares are unknown,
And its pleasures in all their new lustre begin, When we live in a bright-beaming world of our own,
And the light that surrounds us is all from within ; Oh, it is not, believe me, in that happy time
We can love, as in hours of less transport we may:-Of our smiles, of our hopes, 'tis the gay sunny prime,
But affection is warmest when these fade away.
Like a leaf on the stream that will never return; When our cup, which had sparkled with pleasure so
high, First tastes of the other, the dark-flowing urn ; Then, then is the moment affection can sway
With a depth and a tenderness joy never knew ; Love nursed among Pleasures is faithless as they,
But the Love born of Sorrow, like Sorrow, is true!
REMEMBER THEE !
REMEMBER thee! yes, while there's life in this heart,
II. Wert thou all that I wish thee,-great, glorious, and
freeFirst flower of the earth and first gem of the sea,– I might hail thee with prouder, with happier brow, But, oh! could I love thee more deeply than now ?
III. No, thy chains as they rankle, thy blood as it runs, But make thee more painfully dear to thy sonsWhose, hearts like the young of the desert-bird's nest, Drink love in each life-drop that flows from thy breast!