And leaping, cresting, never still, the waves about us play,

And with creak and strain, through spraying rain, we cut our onward way.

A landsman! a landsman !

That I will never be,

While there's a home in the swell and foam
Of the wide, wide sea.

Oh, who would be a landsman in the winter-time of year?

When the northern breeze o'er fresh'ning seas comes whistling past the ear,

And to meet the gale we do not quail, but dare it as we go,

And only ask for sea-room, lads, our seamanship to show.

A sailor! a sailor!

That I will ever be,

While there's a home 'mid the rage and foam
Of the storm-toss'd sea.

SWEETHEART.

WELLINGTON GUERNSEY.]

[Music by M. W. BALFE.

THERE is a little bird that sings,

"Sweetheart! sweetheart! sweetheart !"

I know not what his name may be,

I only know he pleases me,

As loud he sings and thus sings he,
"Sweetheart! sweetheart! sweetheart !"

I've heard him sing on soft spring days,
"Sweetheart! sweetheart! sweetheart !"
And when the sky was dark above,
And wintry winds had stripp'd the grove,
He still pour'd forth those words of love,
"Sweetheart! sweetheart! sweetheart!"

And like that bird my heart, too, sings,
"Sweetheart! sweetheart! sweetheart!"
When heav'n is dark, or bright and blue,
When trees are bare or leaves are new,
It thus sings on, and sings of you,

66

Sweetheart! sweetheart! sweetheart !"

What need of other words than these,

"Sweetheart! sweetheart! sweetheart !"
If I should sing a whole year long,

My love would not be shown more strong
Than by this short and simple song,
"Sweetheart! sweetheart! sweetheart!"

CLARIBEL.]

BLIND ALICE.

[Music by CLARIDEL.

THEY tell me that the skies are blue,

And flowers are in bloom;

Fresh cowslips they have brought to day
To deck my little room;

I cannot see them as they grow
Amid the meadow grass,
But I can feel them at my feet,
And pluck them as I pass.

The winter days were long and drear,
And very sad to me,

No blackbirds warbled in the thorn,
No thrush from out the tree;

I thought how once my heart rejoiced
To hear their cheering strain,
I long'd for summer-time to bring
Those cheerful birds again.

But yet I had my pleasant hours,
For Ellie was so kind,

She read to me until I half

Forgot that I was blind;

To dry my tears she bade me think
That I should one day see,
Where, in eternal summer-time,
The angels wait for me.

THE ROSE'S ERRAND.

C. MACKAY, LL.D.]

[Music by MACKAY.

I SENT a message by the rose

That words could not convey;
Sweet vows I never dar'd to breathe,
And wishes pure as they;
A mute but tell-tale messenger,
It could not do me wrong;
It told the passion I conceal'd,
And hopes I cherish'd long.
My love receiv'd it with a smile,
She read its thought and sign'd,
Then plac'd it on her happy breast,
And wore it till it died.
Immortal rose! it could not die,
The spirit which it bore

Lives in her heart as first in mine,
A joy for evermore.

MAY I LOVE THEE, HEBREW

J. E. CARPENTER.]

MAIDEN?

[Music by JAMES PERRING,

MAY I love thee, Hebrew maiden,

With thy glossy raven hair,

And thy cheek with bloom o'erladen,
And thy brow so matchless fair?
Will thy dark eye proudly glisten
While my passion's warmth I trace-

Wilt thou kindly, calmly listen,
Maiden of the ancient race?

No; that proud lip tells how vainly
I may hope with thee to wed;
That dark brow, it speaks too plainly
All I feared and all I dread.
What a line of golden glory

Mantling in thy veins I trace;
Pure as were thy grandsires hoary,
Maiden of the ancient race.

Fare thee well, proud Hebrew maiden,
Offspring of that hoary band,
Who went forth with sorrow laden
From Judea's stricken land:
Those high thoughts and olden feelings
Never from thy soul efface;
They, like stars, have high revealings,
Maiden of the ancient race.

CLARIBEL.]

THE TWO NESTS.

[Music by CLARibel.

A NEST there was in a bonnie May-tree,
In the fairest of fairy bowers,

And methought how happy the bird must be
On her nest amid the flowers;

But the children came, and together they vied
Who should pluck the best branches of May,
And the bird's little nest very quickly they spied,
And they ruthlessly bore it away.

A nest there was in a dreary tree,

In a dark and dismal holly,

And methought how weary the bird must be
Of her nest so melancholy;

But the children came, and they passed it by

To rifle a fairer tree,

And the bird in the holly I then confess'd
The wiser bird to be.

In the forest of life two different glades
Are lying before me to tread;

Shall I push my way thro' the darkest shades,
Or follow the flowers instead?

I will think of the bird and her nestlings' doom,
And keep to the lonelier way,

Lest enemies come where the fair flowers bloom,
And carry my treasures away.

MOTHER, OH! SING ME TO REST. MRS. HEMANS.]

[Spanish melody.

MOTHER! oh, sing me to rest,
As in my bright days departed:
Sing to thy child, the sick-hearted,
Songs for a spirit oppressed.

Lay this tired head on thy breast!
Flowers from the night-dew are closing,
Pilgrims and mourners reposing-

Mother, oh, sing me to rest!

Take back thy bird to its nest!
Weary is young life when blighted,
Heavy this love unrequited ;-
Mother, oh, sing me to rest!

MY NORMANDY.

[French air.]

HOPE whispers me when summer comes,
And genial verdure crowns the plain,
That I shall see my native land,

And greet my birth-place once again;
Where first in infancy I drew

The breath of life so pure and free;
In dreams 'tis present to my view--
My Normandy! my Normandy!