Our hearths shall be kindled in gladness, That were cold and extinguished in sadness; [arms, Whilst our maidens shall dance with their white waving Singing joy to the brave that delivered their charms, When the blood of yon Mussulman cravens, Shall have purpled the beaks of our ravens. THE LOVER TO HIS MISTRESS ON HER BIRTHDAY. Ir any white winged Power above My joys and griefs survey, The day when thou wert born, my love— I laughed (till taught by thee) when told That ripened life's dull ore to gold, My mind had lovely shapes portrayed; I gazed and felt upon my lips Th' unfinished accents hang: And though as swift as lightning's flash Not all the waves of time shall wash But duly shall my raptured song, SONG "C MEN OF ENGLAND." MEN of England! who inherit By the foes ye've fought uncounted, Yet, remember, England gathers What are monuments of bravery, Pageants!-Let the world revere us Yours are Hampden's, Russell's glory, Martyrs in heroic story, Worth a hundred Agincourts! We're the sons of sires that baffled ADELGITHA. THE ordeal's fatal trumpet sounded, She wept, delivered from her danger; "For he is in a foreign far land Whose arm should now have set me free: And I must wear the willow garland For him that's dead, or false to me." Nay! say not that his faith is tainted!" SONG. DRINK ye to her that each loves best, That's told but to her mutual breast, Enough, while memory tranced and glad Paints silently the fair, That each should dream of joys he's had, Yet far, far hence be jest or boast SONG. WHEN Napoleon was flying To his brother bade adieu! "And take," he said, "this token Sore mourned the brother's heart, But the maiden of his bosom Wept when all their tears were dried. SONG Он how hard it is to find The one just suited to our mind; False, unkind, or found too late Love's a boundless burning waste, Suspense's thorns, Suspicion's stings; SONG. EARL March looked on his dying child, She's at the window many an hour And her love looked up to Ellen's bower, But ah! so pale, he knew her not, And am I then forgot-forgot? It broke the heart of Ellen. In vain he weeps, in vain he sighs, Nor love's own kiss shall wake those eyes |