There the maiden's heart

Hath no sweetness

Every flower of life declineth,
Wearily, oh! wearily, oh!

Cheerily then from hill and valley,

Like

Cheerily, oh!

your native fountains sally,
Cheerily, oh!

If a glorious death,

Won by bravery,

Sweeter be than breath

Sigh'd in slavery,

Round the flag of Freedom rally,

Cheerily, oh! cheerily, oh!

REMEMBER THE TIME.

THE CASTILIAN MAID.

REMEMBER the time, in La Mancha's shades,
When our moments so blissfully flew;
When you call'd me the flower of Castilian maids,
And I blush'd to be call'd so by you;

When I taught you to warble the gay seguadille,
And to dance to the light castanet;

Oh, never, dear youth, let you roam where you

The delight of those moments forget.

They tell me, you lovers from Erin's green isle,
Every hour a new passion can feel;

will,

And that soon, in the light of some lovelier smile, You'll forget the poor maid of Castile.

But they know not how brave in the battle you are,
Or they never could think you would rove;

For 'tis always the spirit most gallant in war
That is fondest and truest in love.

OH, SOON RETURN.

OUR white sail caught the evening ray,

The wave beneath us seem'd to burn, When all the weeping maid could say

Was, "Oh, soon return!"

Through many a clime our ship was driven,
O'er many a billow rudely thrown
Now chill'd beneath a northern heaven,
Now sunn'd in summer's zone:

And still, where'er we bent our way,

When evening bid the west wave burn,

I fancied still I heard her say,

"Oh, soon return!"

If ever yet my bosom found

Its thoughts one moment turn'd from thee, 'Twas when the combat raged around,

And brave men look'd to me.

But though the war-field's wild alarm
For gentle Love was all unmeet,
He lent to Glory's brow the charm,
Which made even danger sweet.

And still, when victory's calm came o'er

The hearts where rage had ceased to burn, Those parting words I heard once more,

“Oh, soon return! — Oh, soon return!”

LOVE THEE?

LOVE thee?

so well, so tenderly

Thou'rt loved, adored by me,

Fame, fortune, wealth, and liberty,

Were worthless without thee.

Though brimm'd with blessings, pure and rare, Life's cup before me lay,

Unless thy love were mingled there,

I'd spurn the draught away.

Love thee?

so well, so tenderly

Thou'rt loved, adored by me,

Fame, fortune, wealth, and liberty,
Are worthless without thee.

Without thy smile, the monarch's lot
To me were dark and lone,

While, with it, ev'n the humblest cot

Were brighter than his throne.