Ah! Time and Love! your change is then

The saddest and most trying,
When one begins to limp again,
And t'other takes to flying.

Then is Love's hour to stray;
Oh! how he flies away!

III.

But there's a nymph-whose chains I feel,
And bless the silken fetter-

Who knows-the dear one!-how to deal
With Love and Time much better.
So well she checks their wanderings,

So peacefully she pairs 'em,

That Love with her ne'er thinks of wings,

And Time for ever wears 'em.

This is Time's holiday;

Oh! how he flies away!

LOVE, MY MARY, DWELLS WITH THEE.

I.

LOVE, my Mary, dwells with thee;

On thy cheek his bed I see.

No-that cheek is pale with care;

Love can find no roses there.
'Tis not on the cheek of rose
Love can find the best repose:
In my heart his home thou❜lt see;
There he lives, and lives for thee.

II.

Love, my Mary, ne'er can roam,
While he makes that eye his home.
No-the eye with sorrow dim

Ne'er can be a home for him.

Yet, 'tis not in beaming eyes

Love for ever warmest lies:

In

my heart his home thou❜lt see;

There he lives, and lives for thee.

LOVE'S LIGHT SUMMER-CLOUD.

I.

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.

II.

Rest, dear bosom! no sorrows 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 shall last :
All the shadow that e'er shall fall o'er thee,
Love's light summer-cloud sweetly shall cast.

LOVE, WAND'RING THROUGH THE GOLDEN

MAZE.

LOVE, wand'ring through the golden maze

Of my beloved's hair,

Traced every lock with fond delays,
And, doting, linger'd there.

And soon he found 'twere vain to fly;
His heart was close confined,

And

every curlet was a tie

A chain by beauty twined.

MERRILY EVERY BOSOM BOUNDETH.

THE TYROLESE SONG OF LIBERTY.

I.

MERRILY every bosom boundeth,
Merrily, oh! merrily, oh!

Where the song of Freedom soundeth,
Merrily, oh! merrily, oh!

There the warrior's arms

Shed more splendour,

There the maiden's charms

Shine more tender

Every joy the land surroundeth,
Merrily, oh! merrily, oh!

II.

Wearily every bosom pineth,
Wearily, oh! wearily, oh!

Where the bond of slavery twineth,

Wearily, oh! wearily, oh!

There the warrior's dart

Hath no fleetness,

There the maiden's heart

Hath no sweetness

Every flower of life declineth,

Wearily, oh! wearily, oh!

III.

Cheerily then from hill and valley,

Cheerily, oh! cheerily, oh!

Like your native fountains sally,
Cheerily, oh! cheerily, oh!

If a glorious death,

Won by bravery,