ROW GENTLY HERE.

Venetian Air.

I.

Row gently here, my gondolier; so softly wake the tide, That not an ear on earth may hear, but hers to whom

we glide.

Had Heaven but tongues to speak, as well as starry eyes

to see,

Oh! think what tales 'twould have to tell of wand'ring youths like me!

II.

Now rest thee here, my gondolier; hush, hush, for up

I go,

To climb yon light balcony's height, while thou keep'st watch below.

Ah! did we take for Heaven above but half such pains

as we

Take day and night for woman's love, what Angels we should be!

OH! DAYS OF YOUTH.

French Air.

I.

On! days of youth and joy, long clouded, Why thus for ever haunt my view? When in the grave your light lay shrouded, Why did not Memory die there too? Vainly doth Hope her strain now sing me, Whisp'ring of joys that yet remain—

No, no, never more can this life bring me One joy that equals youth's sweet pain.

II.

Dim lies the way to death before me,

Gold winds of Time blow round my brow; Sunshine of youth that once fell o'er me, Where is your warmth, your glory now? 'Tis not that then no pain could sting me— 'Tis not that now no joys remain ;

Oh! it is that life no more can bring me

One joy so sweet as that worst pain.

WHEN FIRST THAT SMILE.

Venetian Air.

I.

WHEN first that smile, like sunshine, bless'd my sight,

Oh! what a vision then came o'er me!

Long years of love, of calm and pure delight,
Seem'd in that smile to pass before me.

Ne'er did the peasant dream, ne'er dream of summer skies,

Of golden fruit and harvests springing, With fonder hope than I of those sweet eyes, And of the joy their light was bringing.

II.

Where now are all those fondly-promised hours?
Oh! woman's faith is like her brightness,
Fading as fast as rainbows or day-flowers,

Or ought that's known for grace and lightness.
Short as the Persian's prayer, his prayer at close of day,
Must be each vow of Love's repeating;

Quick let him worship Beauty's precious ray—
Even while he kneels that ray is fleeting!

PEACE TO THE SLUMBERERS !

Catalonian Air.

I.

PEACE to the slumberers!

They lie on the battle-plain With no shroud to cover them;

The dew and the summer rain

Are all that weep over them.

II.

Vain was their bravery!

The fallen oak lies where it lay,

Across the wintry river;

But brave hearts, once swept away,

Are gone, alas! for ever.

III.

Woe to the conqueror !

Our limbs shall lie as cold as theirs

Of whom his sword bereft us,

Ere we forget the deep arrears Of vengeance they have left us!

WHEN THOU SHALT WANDER.

Sicilian Air.

I.

WHEN thou shalt wander by that sweet light
We used to gaze on so many an eve,
When love was new and hope was bright,
Ere I could doubt or thou deceive-

Oh! then, rememb'ring how swift went by
Those hours of transport, even thou may'st sigh.

II.

Yes, proud one! even thy heart may own
That love like ours was far too sweet
To be, like summer garments, thrown aside
When past the summer's heat;

And wish in vain to know again

Such days, such nights, as bless'd thee then.