Yet those eyes look constant still,
True as stars they keep their light;
Still those cheeks their pledge fulfil
Of blushing always bright.
"T is only on thy changeful heart
The blame of falsehood lies;
Love lives in every other part,

But there, alas! he dies.
Then fare thee well, thou lovely one!

Lovely still, but dear no more; Once his soul of truth is gone,

Love's sweet life is o'er.

DOST THOU REMEMBER?
Portuguese Air.

DOST thou remember that place so lonely,
A place for lovers and lovers only,

Where first I told thee all my secret sighs? When as the moon-beam, that trembled o'er thee, Illumed thy blushes, I knelt before thee,

And read my hope's sweet triumph in those eyes! Then, then, while closely heart was drawn to heart, Love bound us-never, never more to part!

And when I call'd thee by names the dearest That love could fancy, the fondest, nearestMy life, my only life!» among the rest; In those sweet accents that still inthral me, Thou saidst, « Ah! wherefore thy life thus call me? Thy soul, thy soul's the name that I love best; For life soon passes, but how blest to be That soul which never, never parts from thee!»

OH! COME TO ME WHEN DAYLIGHT SETS. Venetian Air.

On! come to me when daylight sets;

Sweet! then come to me,
When smoothly go our gondolets

O'er the moonlight sea.

When Mirth's awake, and Love begins,
Beneath that glancing ray,

With sound of lutes and mandolins,

To steal young hearts away.
Oh! come to me when daylight sets;
Sweet! then come to me,

When smoothly go our gondolets
O'er the moonlight sea.

Oh! then's the hour for those who love,
Sweet! like thee and me;

When all 's so calm below, above,

In heaven and o'er the sea.
When maidens sing sweet barcarolles,"
And Echo sings again

So sweet, that all with ears and souls
Should love and listen then.

So, come to me when daylight sets;
Sweet! then come to me,

When smoothly go our gondolets
O'er the moonlight sea.

The thought in this verse is borrowed from the original Portuguese words.

2 Barcarolles, sorte de chansons en langue Vénitienne, que chanteni les gondoliers à Venise. -Roussɛst, Dictionnaire de Musique.

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PEACE be around thee, wherever thou rovest;
May life be for thee one summer's day,

And all that thou wishest, and all that thou lovest.

Come smiling around thy sunny way!

If sorrow e'er this calm should break,
May even thy tears pass off so lightly;
Like spring-showers, they 'll only make
The smiles that follow shine more brightly!

May Time, who sheds his blight o'er all,
And daily dooms some joy to death,
O'er thee let years so gently fall,

They shall not crush one flower beneath!

As half in shade and half in sun,

This world along its path advances,

May that side the sun's upon

Be all that e'er shall meet thy glances!

COMMON SENSE AND GENIUS.
French Air.

WHILE I touch the string,

Wreathe my brows with laurel,

For the tale I sing,

Has, for once, a moral.

Common Sense, one night,
Though not used to gambols,
Went out by moonlight,

With Genius on his rambles.

While I touch the string, etc.

Many wise things saying, While the light that shone Soon set Genius straying. One his eye ne'er raised

From the path before him,
T' other idly gazed

On each night-cloud o'er him.
While I touch the string, etc.

So they came, at last,
To a shady river;
Common Sense soon pass'd,

Safe, as he doth ever;
While the boy, whose look
Was in heaven that minute,
Never saw the brook,

But tumbled headlong in it!

While I touch the string, etc.

How the wise one smiled,
When safe o'er the torrent,
At that youth, so wild,
Dripping from the current!
Sense went home to bed;

Genius, left to shiver

On the bank, 't is said,

Died of that cold river!

While I touch the string, etc.

THEN, FARE THEE WELL!

Old English Air.

THEN, fare thee well! my own dear love,

This world has now for us

No greater grief, no pain above

The pain of parting thus, dear love! the pain of parting

thus!

Had we but known, since first we met,

Some few short hours of bliss,

We might, in numbering them, forget

The deep, deep pain of this, dear love! the deep, deep pain of this!

But, no, alas! we 've never seen

One glimpse of pleasure's ray,

But still there came some cloud between,

And chased it all away, dear love! and chased it all away!

Yet, e'en could those sad moments last,

Far dearer to my heart

Were hours of grief, together past,

Than years of mirth apart, dear love! than years of mirth apart!

Farewell! our hope was born in fears,

And nursed 'mid vain regrets!

Like winter suns, it rose in tears,

Like them in tears it sets, dear love! like them in tears it sets!

O'erhead, from the trees, hung a garland fair, A fountain ran darkly beneath

French Air.

COME, chase that starting tear away,

Ere mine to meet it springs;

To-night, at least, to-night be gay,

Whate'er to-morrow brings!

Like sun-set gleams, that linger late
When all is dark'aing fast,

Are hours like these we snatch from Fate-
The brightest and the last.

Then, chase that starting tear, etc.

To gild our dark'ning life, if Heaven
But one bright hour allow,

Oh! think that one bright hour is given,
In all its splendour, now!
Let's live it out-then sink in night,

Love knew it, and jump'd at the wreath.

But Love did n't know-and at his weak years What urchin was likely to know?

That Sorrow had made of her own salt tears That fountain which murmur'd below.

He caught at the wreath-but with too much haste,
As boys when impatient will do-
It fell in those waters of briny taste,

And the flowers were all wet through.

Yet this is the wreath he wears night and day, And, though it all sunny appears

With Pleasure's own lustre, each leaf, they say, Still tastes of the Fountain of Tears.