Come and fawn about her hair!

Kiss the fringes of her eyes! Ask her why she looks so fair, When she heedeth not my sighs?

Tell her, murmuring summer air,
That her beauty's all untrue;
Tell her, she should not seem fair
Unless she be gentle too !

IS MY LOVER ON THE SEA?

BARRY CORNWALL.

Is my lover on the sea,

Sailing east or sailing west? Nightly ocean, gentle be,

Rock him into rest!

Let no angry wind arise,

Nor a wave with whitened crest:

All be gentle as his eyes

When he is caressed!

Bear him (as the breeze above

Bears the bird unto its nest,)

Here, unto his home of love,
And there bid him rest!

A DRINKING SONG.

BARRY CORNWALL.

Drink, and fill the night with mirth !
Let us have a mighty measure,
Till we quite forget the earth,

And soar into the world of pleasure.
Drink, and let a health go round,
('Tis the drinker's noble duty,)
To the eyes that shine and wound,
To the mouths that bud in beauty!

Here's to Helen! why, ah! why

Doth she fly from my pursuing?
Here's to Marian, cold and shy!

May she warm before thy wooing!
Here's to Janet ! I've been e'er,
Boy and man, her staunch defender,
Always sworn that she was fair,
Always known that she was tender!

Fill the deep-mouthed glasses high
Let them with the champaign tremble,
Like the loose wrack in the sky,

When the four wild winds assemble!
Here's to all the love on earth,

(Love, the young man's, wise man's treasure!)

Drink, and fill your throats with mirth!

Drink, and drown the world in pleasure!

THE RECALL.

BARRY CORNWALL.

Come again! come again!
Sunshine cometh after rain.
As a lamp fed newly burneth,
Pleasure, who doth fly, returneth,
Scattering every cloud of pain.
As the year, which dies in showers,
Riseth in a world of flowers,

Call'd by many a vernal strain,

Come thou, for whom tears were falling, And a thousand tongues are calling:

Come again, O come again,

Like the sunshine after rain.

DRINKING SONG.

Pour around the sparkling wine,
Quaff the bowl of juicy grape,
Give the fair ones face divine
Beauty, majesty, and shape.

Wine it is the milk of Venus,

Honour then the queen of love-

Beauty in your bosom screen us,

While your coral teat we prove.

Who but loves a rosy lip,

Moisten'd with the morning dew---Such a lip where bees would sipWere they blest like those that do.

Who but loves a boundless sea-
Where the honey'd milk is rife,
In the fair will find agree,

All the nectar'd sweets of life.

Drain--ah then the sparkling bowl,
To the fair one whom you love,
Knit with her in heart and soul,
Joy shall round your circle move!

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APPENDIX.