COULD'ST THOU LOOK AS DEAR.

COULD'ST thou look as dear as when

First I sigh'd for thee;

Could'st thou make me feel again
Ev'ry wish I breath'd thee then,

Oh! how blissful life would be!
Hopes, that now beguiling leave me,
Joys that lie in slumber cold,

All would wake, coul'st thou but give me
One dear smile like those of old!
Oh! there's nothing left us now

But to mourn the past;
Vain was every ardent vow,

Never yet did heaven allow

Love so warm, so wild, to last.

Not e'en hope could now deceive me,
Life itself looks dark and cold;
Oh! thou never more canst give me
One dear smile like those of old!

THE YOUNG ROSE.

THE young Rose which I gave thee, so dewy and bright,

Was the flow'ret most dear to the sweet bird

of night;

Who oft by the moon o'er her blushes hath hung,

And thril'd ev'ry leaf with the wild lay he sung,

Oh! take thou this young Rose, and let her

life be

Prolong'd by the breath she will borrow from

thee!

For while o'er her bosom thy soft notes shall thrill,

She'll think the sweet night bird is courting her still.

OH! SOON RETURN.

OUR white sail caught the ev'ning ray,
The wave beneath us seem'd to burn,
When all my weeping love could say,
Was "Oh! soon return!"

Thro' many a clime our ship was driv'n,
O'er many a billow rudely thrown,
Now chil'd beneath a northern heav'n,
Now sunn'd by summer's zone.
Yet still where'er our course we lay,
When ev'ning bid the west wave burn,
I thought I heard her faintly say,
"Oh! soon return."

If ever yet my bosom found

Its thoughts a moment turn'd from thee, "Twas when the combat rag'd around, And brave men look'd to me.

But, though 'mid battle's wild alarm
Love's gentle power might not appear,
He gave to glory's brow the charm,
That made e'en danger dear.

And then, when victory's calm came o'er
The hearts where rage has ceas'd to burn,
I heard that farewell voice once more-
"Oh! soon return."

LOVE'S LIGHT SUMMER CLOUD.

PAIN and sorrow shall vanish before us,
Youth may wither, but feeling will last;
All the shadow that e'er shall fall o'er us,
Love's light summer-cloud sweetly shall cast.
Oh! if to love thee more

Each hour I number o'er,
If this a passion be

Worthy of thee,

Then, be happy, for thus I adore thee.
Charms may wither, but feeling shall last,
All the shadow that e'er shall fall o'er thee,
Love's light summer-cloud sweetly shall cast.
Rest, dear bosom! no sorrow shall pain thee,
Sighs of pleasure alone shalt thou steal;
Beam, bright eyelid! no weeping shall stain
thee,

Tears of rapture alone shalt thou feel.

Oh! if there be a charm*
In love to banish harm,
If pleasure's truest spell
Be to love well,

Then be happy, for thus I adore thee,

Charms may wither, but feeling will last, All the shadow that e're shall fall o'er thee, Love's light summer-cloud sweetly shall cast.

KEEP YOUR TEARS FOR ME.

When 'midst the gay I meet

That gentle smile of thine,

Tho' still on me it turns most sweet,
I scarce can call it mine.

But when to me alone

Your secret tears you show,
O then I feel those tears my own,
And claim them while they flow.
Then still with bright looks bless
the cold, the free;

The gay,

Give smiles to those who love you less,
But keep your tears for me.

The snow on Jura's steep

Can smile with many a beam,

Yet still in chains of coldness sleep,

How bright soe'er it seem.

*This is one of the many instances in which I have sacrificed Metre, [and I may add Sense,] to the wild structure of the air.

But when some deep-felt ray,
Whose touch is fire, appears,
Oh! then the smile is warm'd away,
And, melting, turns to tears.
Then still with bright looks bless
The gay, the cold, the free;
Give smiles to those who love you less,
But keep your tears for me.

FANNY WAS IN THE GROVE.

FANNY was in the grove,

And Lubin her boy was nigh;
Her eye was warm with love,

And her soul was as her eye,
Oh! Oh! if Lubin now would sue,
Oh! Oh! what would Fanny do?

Fanny was made for bliss,

But she was young and shy,
And when he had stolen a kiss,
She blush'd and said with a sigh,
Oh! Oh! Lubin, ah! tell me true,
Oh! Oh! what are you going to do?

They wander'd beneath the shade;
Her eye was dim'd with a tear,
For ah! the poor little maid

Was thrilling with love and fear.
Oh! Oh! if Lubin would but sue,
Oh! Oh! what could Fanny do?