For oh! how its song brings back to me
The shade of our youth's golden dream,
In the days ere we parted, you and I,

As the two leaves were parted in the stream.

OH, TAKE ME BACK TO SWITZER

HON. MRS. NORTON.]

LAND!

{

Music by the HON.

By the dark waves of the rolling sea,

MRS. NORTON

Where the white sailed ships are tossing free,
Came a youthful maiden,

Pale and sorrow laden,

With a mournful voice sang she.
Oh! take me back to Switzerland,
My own, my dear, my native land!
I'll brave all dangers of the main
To see my own dear land again.

I see its hills, I see its streams,
Its blue lakes haunt my restless dreams;
When the day declineth,

Or the bright sun shineth,

Present still its beauty seems.

Oh! take me back to Switzerland,

Upon the mountains let me stand,

Where flowers are bright, where skies are clear,
For oh! I pine, I perish here!

For months along that gloomy shore,
'Mid sea-birds' cry and ocean roar,
Sang that mournful maiden,

Pale and sorrow laden;

Then her voice was heard no more,

For far away from Switzerland,

From home, from friends, from native land,
Where foreign wild-flowers coldly wave,

The broken-hearted found a grave.

SHALL I COMPARE THEE TO A
SUMMER'S DAY?

[SHAKSPEARE.]

SHALL I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate :
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date.
Sometimes too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd:
And every fair from fair sometime declines,

By chance, or nature's changing course, untrimm'd. But thy eternal summer shall not fade,

Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;
Nor shall death brag thou wanderest in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou growest.
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

THE SKIPPER AND HIS BOY.

H. AIDE.]

[Music by V.

THE sea ran high, and the wind was wild,
When the skipper call'd to his only child,
"My boy, if fears assail thee now,
Go, pray, in silence down below!"

"Fear!" cried the boy, "I know not fear,
Father, when thy right hand is near;
But merry it is o'er the waves so high,
To ride together, my father and I.

GABRIEL.

"Mother will watch from the door and pray
For us both, dear father, till break of day,
And she'll be the first, when the pray'r done,
To catch sight of our sail, 'neath the morning sun."

"Yes, yes!"-quoth the skipper, brief and stern,
"To-morrow shall see our bark return

O'er the green waves, 'neath the morning sky,
We'll ride together, my boy and I."

She is watching, watching, but never more
Will that gallant skipper return to shore,
The boy's black handkerchief lies on the sand-
It was tied round his neck with her parting hand.

And all that doth of the skipper remain,
Is the compass he never shall use again,
But she knows that now, on the jasper sea,
They ride together, his father and he.

THE BROTHER'S DIRGE.

MRS. HEMANS.]

[Music by MRS. OWEN.

IN the proud old fanes of England
My warrior fathers lie,

Banners hang drooping o'er their dust
With gorgeous blazonry.

But thou, but thou, my brother!

O'er the dark billows sweep,
The best and bravest heart of all
Is shrouded by the deep.

In the old high wars of England
My noble fathers bled;

For her lion-kings of lance and spear,
They went down to the dead.
But thou, but thou, my brother!

Thy life-drops flowed for me-
Would I were with thee in thy rest,
Young sleeper of the sea.

In a shelter'd home of England

Our sister dwells alone,

With quick heart listening for the sound
Of footsteps that are gone.

She little dreams, my brother!

Of the wild fate we have found;
I, 'midst the Afric sands, a slave,
Thou, by the dark sea's bound.

THE ORPHAN'S PRAYER.

J. E. CARPENter.]

[Music by FRANZ ABT.

HEAVENLY Father! King of might!
Place thy guardian angels o'er me;
Once again from sleep restore me;
Guard me through the coming night!
None but thee, O Lord! can guide me;
Earthly father is denied me;

Hear, oh hear, the orphan's prayer,
Heavenly Father!

Heavenly Father! King of kings!
Take my spirit to thy keeping!
O'er my couch while I am sleeping,
Let thine angels spread their wings;
In the world a pilgrim lonely,
Trusting to Thy goodness only;

Thou wilt hear the orphan's prayer,
Heavenly Father!

ONE MORN I LEFT MY BOAT.

T. HAYNES BAYLY.]

[Music by A. LEE. ONE morn I left my boat, to stray

In yon island's dewy bowers;
I culled its sweets, and sailed away
With my stolen store of flowers;
The west wind bore me o'er the flood,
My prize from the sun I shaded;
But, ere evening came, the fairest bud
In my lonely wreath was faded.

That eve, when nought but sea and sky
In the dreary prospect blended,
A little blue-winged butterfly
Upon the deck descended.
It nestled near the rose, its wing
Then lost its buoyant power;
And I saw the insect withering
Beside its own poor flower.

THE SEAMAN'S HOME.

DENEY BRANDBETH.]

[Air-"Gramachree."

I SAW her in her noon of pride,
With flag and sail unfurled;

How gloriously she stemmed the tide-
The seaman's winged world.

For, once upon the ocean wave,

In all her gallant trim,

Though cannons roar and tempest rave,
She is the world to him.

I saw her when she faced her foes,
I heard the mighty strife,

As England's victor shout arose,

And woke her into life.

And who that once has seen can e'er

Forget that glorious day,

When all was dared that man may dare

For Britain's ocean sway?

And now I see her once again,
A thing of life and hope;

For, though no more she walks the main,
With England's foes to cope-
Still floats she, with her flag of power,
'Neath heav'n's ethereal dome,

In sickness, as in glory's hour,
The seaman's guardian home.