THE SONG OF HOPE.

MRS. HEMANS.]

[Music by MRS. OWEN.

DROOP not, my brothers! I hear a glad strain;

We shall burst forth like streams from the winter night's chain;

A flag is unfurled, a bright star on the sea,

A ransom approaches-we yet shall be free!

Where the pines wave, where the light chamois leaps,
Where the lone eagle hath built on the steeps;
Where the snows glisten, the mountain-rills foam,
Free as the falcon's wing we yet shall roam.

Where the hearth shines, where the kind looks are met,
Where the smiles mingle, our place shall be yet!
Crossing the desert, o'ers weeping the sea-
Droop not, my brothers, we yet shall be free!

GIVE MY LOVE TO ENGLAND. FREDERICK ENOCH.]

[Music by G. A. MACFARREN.

WILL you let me tell you of a boy that went to sea? An open-hearted, smiling-faced, and manly boy was

he,

A very child he was in age, yet knew no childish fears, He only "looked the other way" before his mother's tears!

Then laughing leapt upon the deck, and up the rigging flew,

To see the last of native land, and wave the last adieu; While to each landward bird and sail so cheerily cried he,

"Go, give my love to England!" said the boy that went to sea.

Over all the world the lad went, floating here and there, If courage found a deed to do, he found a heart to dare; In other climes they never said, "What countryman is here?"

The truth that shone upon his face in all he did was clear.

"Oh! sailor-boy !" the homeward bound across the gunwale cry,

"What hail, for native land ?"-be sure they had but one reply ;

One thought of mother, home, and perhaps of some one else might be,

For "give my love to England!" from the boy that went to sea.

Noble heart! upon the deep, no matter storm or fair, My sailor-boy, all taut and trim, you'll find at duty

there;

If but to show that English hearts, no matter where they roam,

Can't part with duty, though sometimes they let love wander home.

When comes the day, his latest word, I know will be but one,

If he tumbles in the shotted-shroud, or falls before the gun!

An all-enfolding, prayerful word, I know what it will be

"Oh! give my love to England!" from the boy that

went to sea.

SINCE, JACK, THOU ART A SEAMAN'S

C. DIBDIN.]

SON.

[Music by C. DIBDIN. SINCE, Jack, thou art a seaman's son, And born for the good of the nation,

'Tis pretty near time I begun

To larn thee a tar's edication :

For when out of port

Thou'lt be fortune's sport,

And taste of sorrow's cup;
Yet in thy pow'r

Is hope's best bow'r,

When death shall bring thee up.

Love honour as thy life :

Ne'er do a paltry thing;
Protect thy friend and wife;

Spare foes, and serve thy king!
This lesson larn,

Without consarn

Thou'lt taste of pleasure's cup,
E'en to the dregs,

On thy last legs,

When death shall bring thee up.

And when thou'st left the sea,

And time has long broke bulk,
Grown old and crank like me,
And laid up, a sheer hulk,
To teach thy young son
This course to run,

To drink of comfort's cup;

Thy eyes thou'lt close

In sweet repose,

When death shall bring thee up.

IN DREAMS THOU ART WITH ME

J. E. CARPENTER.]

STILL.

[Music by C. W. GLOVER,

THOU art not with me when I tread

The forest path at eve,

Where the full branches overhead,
Their fragrant garlands weave;
Yet all things in my lonely walk,
The streams, the flowers, the tree,
The very birds but seem to talk
In gentle strains of thee!

And when in midnight's deepest gloom
Sweet sleep mine eyelids fill,

I see thee in my curtain'd room,
In dreams thou'rt with me still!

Thou art not with me, yet I feel
Thy presence when I go

Where the pale moonbeams all reveal
Our wanderings long ago;

And when the song bird Ells the air,
Thy voice seems sweet and clear,
For memory has such power that there
I fancy thou art near ;

Until the midnight's darker gloom
My wearied eyelids fill,

And then within my curtain'd room
In dreams thou'rt with me still!

AS DOWN IN THE MEADOWS. ANONYMOUS.] [Air-Old English. As down in the meadows I chanc'd for to pass, Oh, there I beheld a young beautiful lass! Her age, I am sure, it was scarcely fifteen, And she on her head wore a garland of green; Her lips were like rubies, and as for her eyes, They sparkled like diamonds, or stars in the skies; And then, Oh, her voice, it was charming and clear, As sadly she sung for the loss of her dear.

Why does my love, Willie, prove false and unkind,
Oh, why does he change like the wavering wind,
From one that is loyal in every degree,

Oh, why does he change to another from me?
In the meadows as we were a making of hay,
Oh, there did we pass the soft minutes away,
And there was I kissed and set down on his knee,
No man in the world was so loving as he.

But now he has left me, and Fanny the fair
Employs all his wishes, his hopes, and his care;
He kisses her lip as she sits on his knee,

And says all the sweet things he once said to me.

But, if she believe him, the false-hearted swain
Will leave her, and then she with me may complain,
For nought is more certain, believe, silly Sue,
Who once has been faithless can never be true.
She finished her song, and rose up to be gone,
When over the meadows came jolly young Jolin,
Who told her that she was the joy of his life,
And if she'd consent he would make her his wife.
She could not refuse him, to church so they went,
Young Willy's forgot, and young Susan's content,
Most men are like Willy, most women like Sue,
If men will be false, why should women be true?

R. HERRICK.]

DAFFODILS.

[Music by ALFRED A. POLLOCK.

FAIR daffodils, we weep to see

You haste away so soon;
As yet the early-rising sun
Has not attained his noon:
Stay, stay

Until the hasting day
Has run

But to the even-song;
And, having pray'd together, we
Will go with you along.

Two Paradises are in one,

To live in Paradise alone.

We have short time to stay as you;
We have as short a spring;

As quick a growth to meet decay
As you or anything.

We die,

As your hours do; and dry

Away

Like to the summer's rain;

Or as the pearls of morning's dev,

Ne'er to be found again!

G