To think all other charms divine,
But those we just have won ;
This is love, careless love,
Such as kindleth hearts that rove.

To keep one sacred flame,

Through life unchilled, unmoved,
To love in wintry age the same
As first in youth we loved;
To feel that we adore

To such refined excess

That though the heart would break with more,

We could not live with less;

This is love, faithful love,

Such as saints might feel above.

SPIRIT of Joy, thy altar lies

In youthful hearts that hope like mine;
And 'tis the light of laughing eyes
That leads us to thy fairy shrine.
There if we find the sigh, the tear,

They are not those to sorrow known;
But breathe so soft, and drops so clear,
That bliss may claim them for her own.
Then give me, give me, while I weep,
The sanguine hope that brightens woe
And teaches even our tears to keep

The tinge of pleasure as they flow. The child who sees the dew of night Upon the spangled hedge at morn Attempts to catch the drops of light, But wounds his finger with the thorn. Thus oft the brightest joys we seek

Are lost, when touched, and turned to pain

The flush they kindle leaves the cheek,

The tears they waken long remain.

But give me, give me, &c., &c.

WHEN Leila touched the lute,
Not then alone 'twas felt,
But when the sounds were mute,
In memory still they dwelt ;
Sweet lute! in nightly slumbers
Still we heard thy morning numbers.

Ah how could she who stole

Such breath from simple wire

Be led, in pride of soul,

To string with gold her lyre?

Sweet lute! thy chords she breaketh ;
Golden now the strings she waketh!

But where are all the tales
Her lute so sweetly told?
In lofty themes she fails,

And soft ones suit not gold.
Rich lute! we see thee glisten,
But alas! no more we listen!

BOAT GLEE.

THE song that lightens the languid way
When brows are glowing,

And faint with rowing,

Is like the spell of Hope's airy lay,
To whose sound through life we stray;
The beams that flash on the oar a while,
As we row along through waves so clear,
Illume its spray, like the fleeting smile
That shines o'er sorrow's tear.

Nothing is lost on him who sees

With an eye that feeling gave ;-
For him there's a story in every breeze,
And a picture in every wave.
Then sing to lighten the languid way;
When brows are glowing,

And faint with rowing,

'Tis like the spell of Hope's airy lay, To whose sound through life we stray.

OH think, when a hero is sighing,
What danger in such an adorer!
What woman can dream of denying
The hand that lays laurels before her?
No heart is so guarded around

But the smile of a victor would take it;

No bosom can slumber so sound

But the trumpet of glory will wake it.

Love sometimes is given to sleeping,

And woe to the heart that allows him; For oh neither smiling nor weeping

Has power at those moments to rouse him.

But though he was sleeping so fast

That the life almost seemed to forsake him,

Even then, one soul-thrilling blast

From the trumpet of glory would wake him.

CUPID'S LOTTERY.

A LOTTERY, a Lottery,

In Cupid's court there used to be;
Two roguish eyes

The highest prize

In Cupid's scheming Lottery;
And kisses, too,

As good as new,

Which weren't very hard to win,

For he who won

The eyes of fun

Was sure to have the kisses in.

A Lottery, a Lottery, &c.

This Lottery, this Lottery,

In Cupid's court went merrily,
And Cupid played

A Jewish trade

In this his scheming Lottery;
For hearts, we're told,

In shares he sold

To many a fond believing drone,

And cut the hearts

In sixteen parts,

So well each thought the whole his own.
Chor.-A Lottery, a Lottery, &c.

SONG.

THOUGH sacred the tie that our country entwineth,
And dear to the heart her remembrance remains
Yet dark are the ties where no liberty shineth,
And sad the remembrance that slavery stains.
O thou who wert born in the cot of the peasant,
But diest of languor in luxury's dome,

Our vision, when absent-our glory, when present-
Where thou art, O Liberty! there is my home.
Farewell to the land where in childhood I wandered!
In vain is she mighty, in vain is she brave!
Unbless'd is the blood that for tyrants is squandered,
And fame has no wreaths for the brow of the slave.
But hail to thee, Albion! who meet'st the commotion
Of Europe as calm as thy cliffs meet the foam !
With no bonds but the law, and no slave but the ocean,
Hail, Temple of Liberty! thou art my home.

WHEN Charles was deceived by the maid he loved,
We saw no cloud his brow o'ercasting,
But proudly he smiled, as if gay and unmoved,

Though the wound in his heart was deep and lasting.

And oft at night, when the tempest rolled, He sung as he paced the dark deck over"Blow, wind, blow! thou art not so cold

As the heart of a maid that deceives her lover."

Yet he lived with the happy, and seemed to be gay,

Though the wound but sunk more deep for concealing;

And fortune threw many a thorn in his way,

Which, true to one anguish, he trod without feeling! And still, by the frowning of fate unsubdued,

He sung, as if sorrow had placed him above her— "Frown, fate, frown! thou art not so rude

As the heart of a maid that deceives her lover."

At length his career found a close in death,

The close he long wished to his cheerless roving,
For victory shone on his latest breath,

And he died in a cause of his heart's approving.
But still he remembered his sorrow,-and still
He sung till the vision of life was over-

Come, death, come! thou art not so chill

As the heart of a maid that deceives her lover."

WHEN life looks lone and dreary,
What light can expel the gloom?
When Time's swift wing grows weary,
What charm can refresh his plume?
'Tis woman, whose sweetness beameth
O'er all that we feel or see;

And if man of heaven e'er dreameth,
'Tis when he thinks purely of thee,
O woman!

Let conquerors fight for glory,

Too dearly the mead they gain;

Let patriots live in glory

Too often they die in vain ;

Give kingdoms to those who choose 'em,
This world can offer to me
No throne like beauty's bosom,
No freedom like serving thee,
O woman!

MR. Orator Puff had two tones in his voice,

The one squeaking thus, and the other down so!
In each sentence he uttered he gave you your choice,
For one was B alt, and the rest G below.

Oh! oh! Orator Puff!

One voice for one orator's surely enough.