2 J. & M. L. TREGASKIS (formerly M. L. BENNETT), 15 BAYLEY (Thos. Haynes) Fifty Lyrical Ballads, 4to, ruby morocco super C.xira, covered with ornamental goU aiui I'linJ looliiii.', diaper pattern, gilt edges. Presentation Copy to Archdeacon Wrangham, with Author's Autograph Inscrijition on Title, £2 loss Baih, 1829 A choice piece 0/ elegant moiierii binding ; from tite Cais/otd sale, vjitii bookplate. 6 'n CP^J^'T^ *^'^ff^39 WILLIAM R. PERKINS LIBRARY DUKE UNIVERSITY GIFT OF LILLIAN S. STEVENSON TO THE LIONEL STEVENSON COLLECTION FIFTY LYRICAL BALLADS. BY THOMAS HAYNES BAYLY. BATH: PRINTED BY MARY MEYLER, ABBEY CIIURCII-YARD. 1829. Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2011 with funding from Duke University Libraries http://www.archive.org/details/fiftylyricalball01bayl / JO TO THE EARL OF STAMFORD AND WARRINGTON MY LORD, TO YOU I BEG TO DEDICATE THIS VOLUME OF SONGS, ON THE PLEA OF RELATIONSHIP. THE LATE EARL OF STAMFORD'S GREAT GRANDFATHER, AND MY FATHERS, WERE BROTHERS: I THEREFORE REQUEST YOUR LORDSHIP TO ACCEPT THIS OFFERING FROM YOUR LORDSHIPS OBEDIENT, HUMBLE SERVANT, THOINIAS HAYNES BAYLY. JANUARY 1, 1829. These Songs are all published with 3Iusic, but being the Property of various Persons, the Author has not thepotver of publishing them collectively. This Volume has therefore been printed for private circulation. ]MY HARP OF SIGHS. Alas I am not what I was When last I sang to thee. The playful song that won thy smile, Is not the song for me : My harp of smiles upon the earth Unstrung, and broken lies ; And well I know that one so young Will scorn my hiu'p of sighs. 2 I have no song of youth and hope That does not close in care, I have no tale of woman's love That ends not in despair ; I only breathe the name of joy To tell how soon it dies, I only sing the songs that suit My dear — dear harp of sighs. I could not — if I would — be gay, For when I touch the chords I throw a shade of sadness o'er The melody, and words : Grief thro' her darkened glass, discerns No sunshine in the skies. The voice imist mourn that mingles with Thy notes, my harp of sighs ! OH A:M 1 NOT A LOVER STILL? Oh I am I not a lover still. In heart and soul the same — As when I sought thy bower first, And learnt to breathe thy name ? Oh I look I not as provid of thee ? Oh ! speak I not as kind ? And when I leave thee, do I not Leave joy itself behind ? The love I offered long ago, Is but matured by time ; As tendrils round their chosen bough, CUng closer as they climb : Then am 1 not a lover still. In heart and soid the same. As when I sought thy bower first, And learnt to breathe thy name ? B 2 THE BRIDEMAID. The Bridal is over, the guests are all gone, The Bride's only sister sits weeping alone ; The wreath of white roses is torn from her brow. And the heart of the Bridemaid is desolate now. With smiles and caresses she dcck'd the fair Bride, And then led her fortli Avith affectionate pride ; She knew that togetlier no more they should dwell, Yet she smiled when she kissed her and whispered farewell. She would not embitter a festival day, Nor send her sweet sister in sadness away : She hears the bells ringing — she sees her depart, — She cannot veil longer the grief of her heart. She thinks of each pleasure, each pain, that endears The gentle companion of happier years ; The wreath of white roses is torn from her brow. And the heart of the Bridemaid is desolate now. OH NO. WE NEVER SPEAK OF HER! Oh no — we never speak of her, Her name is never licard ; My lips are now forbid to breatlie That once faniihar word : From sport to s])ort they hurry me. To hanisli my regret ; And wlien they win a smile from me, They think tliat I forget. They bid me seek in cliange of scene The charms that otiiers see ; But were I in a foreign land, They'd find no change in me : 'Tis true that I behold ni) more The valley where we met, 1 do not see the haAvthorn tree — But how can I forget ? 6 For ah, there are so many things Recall the past to me, The breeze upon the sunny hill, The billows on the sea ; The rosy tints that deck the sky Before the sun is set ; — Aye, ev'ry leaf 1 look upon. Forbids me to forget. They tell me she is happy now, The gayest of the gay ; They hint that she forgets me. But heed not what they say : Like me, perhaps, she struggles with Each feeling of regret. But if she loves as I have loved. She never can forget. I HAVE LOVED THEE. I HAVE loved thee in the briglitness of thy beauty and thy bloom, I have loved thee in the shadow of thy sickness and thy gloom ; I have loved tliee for thy sweet smile, when thy heart was light and gay ; Yet I loved thee even better when the smile had pass'd away : Alas ! I never loved thee with the common love of earth, The love that boasts it's proud success in revelry and mirth ; My love was nursed in secret, like a blossom that has furl'd All it's sweet leaves from tlie notice and the sunsliine of the world. THE HEART OF A SOLDIER. The heart of a soldier Surrenders to thee ; The Champion of Freedom No longer is free : He decks with his laurels Thy sylvan retreat, And the spoils of the conquer'd, He lays at thy feet. But say, were I summon'd Again to the field, Would'st thou bring my helmet, My sword and my shield ? And scorning the softness Of tearful delay, Would'st thou urge me forward, To horse, and away ? 9 Yes ! such is the duty, And such is the pride. Of lier whom a Soldier Ilath chosen his bride : She shares and she sweetens His peaceful repose. ^\nd she smiles when to battle And glory he goes. SIGH NOT FOR SUMINIER FLOWERS. SiOH not for summer flowers. What though the dark sky lowers Welcome ye wint'ry hours. Our sunshine is wifhin : Though to the west retreating Daylight so soon is fleeting, Now happy friends are meeting. And now their sports begin : Sigh not for summer flowers ! c 10 Leaves that oiir path once sliaded, Now he ai-oimd iis faded ; Groves where we serenaded, Are desolate and chill : Nature awhile reposes, Art his gay realm uncloses, Beauty disjilays her roses, And we are happy still ! Sigh not for summer flowers ! Round us 'tis deeply snowing — Hark ! — tl)e loud tempest blowing ! See ! — the deep torrent flowing ! How wild the skies ajjpear ! But can the whirlwind move us ? No — with this roof above us, Nctir to the hearts that love us. We still have sunshine here: Sigh not for summer flowers ! HAND IN HAND, LOVE. Who ■would snatch from anxious lovers Hopes, though they be link'd with fears ? Who would raise the mist that hovers O'er our fate in future years ? Oh ! not I ! though clouds hang o'er us. Sunbeams dwell beyond them still ; We'll pass o'er the path before us. Hand in hand, Love, come what will. No magician's art 1 covet. To imfold my future lot ; Dark or light, no s])cll can move it, Then 'tis best to know it not. In the noon of summer Aveather, I'll not dread December's chill ; Through the world we'll rove together, Hand in hand. Love, come what will. C 2 12 E'en the gloomy now and then shall Own our smiling system right ; Joy, when shared, grows more substantial. Grief, when shared, becomes more light. While from Nature's purest flowers Nought but poison some distil, We'U seek honey in her bowers, Hand, in hand. Love, come what will. OH! SAY NOT 'TWERE A KEENER BLOW. Oh ! say not 'twere a keener blow To lo.se a child of riper years, — You cannot feel a mother's woe. You cannot diy a mother's tears ; The girl who rears a sickly plant. Or cherishes a wounded dove. Will love them most, while most they want The watchfuhiess of love ! 13 Time must have changed that fair young brow ! Time might have changed that spotless heart ! Ye.irs might have taught deceit — but now In love's, confiding dawn — we part ! Ere pain or grief had wrought decay, My babe is cradled in tiie tomb ; Like some fair blossom torn away Before its perfect bloom. With thoughts of peril and of storm. We see a bark first touch the Avave : But distant seems tlie whirlwind's form, As distant — as an infant's grave! Though all is calm, that beauteous ship Must brave the whirlwind's rudest breath ; Though all is calm, that infant's lip Must meet the kiss of Death ! 14 'TWAS A FRIEND OF MY EARLY YOUTH. 'TvvAS a Friend of my early youth That I met in a foreign land, I knew him not — but thought I toucli'd A passing stranger's hand ! But the spell of the voice can never end • He spoke — and I knew my early friend. Oh ! that voice did revive again All the feelings of other years, The smile of welcome died away — The word — was lost in tears ; He spoke — 'twas a voice from my home I hear'd, And it struck my heart's most sensitive chord. 15 ON THE HILLS I WANDERED EARLY. Ox the hills I wandered early, And I saw a maideii there, AA'ho was twining fresh wild flowers ^Mth the tresses of her hair ; And I said when I bclicld her In her simple garb arrayed — " This is one of nature's blossoms, " Formed for solitude and shade." To the dance T went at midnight, And I saw a maiden there. AVith a coronet of jewels Round the tresses of her hair: It was she I met so early ! But her simple garb was gone. And she now seemed formed to revel In the sunshine of a throne ! 16 Oh! when youth and beauty mingle In the mansions of the gay, Let not the old condemn them, And turn scornfully away : For in truth there may be many Who like my fair mountain maid, Keep their brightness for the sunshine, And their virtues for the shade ! A FEATHER IN IMY CAP. My heart Avas free — you caught it. My friends look'd on and thought it A feather in My cap, to win Your love, — so many sought it ! A feather in my cap 'twill prove Though we're no more together, Go, fickle one ! your flimsy love. Is nothing but — a feather ! 17 Yoii are not what I thouglit yoii, ^Vhen long ago I sought you ; Your face is fair. But hirking there Is a frown that Pride hath taught you Tlicn go — some other victim find, Forgetting — I'll forgive you ; Since Vanity has changed your mind, I'll change my own, and leave you. ri.L WATCH FOR THEE FROM MY LONELY TOWER. I'll watch for thee From my lonely tower. Come o'er the sea At the twilight hour ; Come when the day Passes away ! Come when the nightingale sings on the tree ! Come, and remove Doubts of thy love ; — But if thou lov'st me not, come not to me ] 18 Why did'st thou say !'■ I was brighter far Than the bright ray Of tlie evening star ? Why did'st thou come, Seeking my home, 'Till I believed that thy love was sincere ? Oh ! if thy vow Wearies thee now— •: ^ t Though I may weep for thee — never come here! THE LAST GREEN LEAF. The last green leaf hangs lonely now, Her summer friends have left the bough. Yet though they withered one by one, The last still flutters in the sun ! And so it is with us to-day ; The bowl is fill'd — we must be gay ; We sing old songs again, — and yet We've lost old friends since last we met. 19 But should some lost one now return And view us here, he would discern Some lips that press the goblet's brim, To hide the sigh that's breatJied for him. We do not meet to banish thought, Yet though regTets will come, unsought, We will not waste in sighs of grief;;/: Life's Ung'ring joy — our last green leaf. THE BEACON LIGHT. Why niffhtlv burns a Beacon light In yon secluded bay ? Who keeps the little taper bright Until the dawn of day ? Oh it hath been for many years A lonely woman's care ; Her fonn is chang'd by time and tears. Yet still the light is tliere ! '&' n 2 20 'Twas kindled by an anxious Bride, One evening wild and dark ; She hoped to guide across the tide Her sailor's fragile bark : At sunset it was just in sight — But storm-clouds fill'd the air ! And all that long, long dreadful niglit, The Beacon hght was there. Morn came at last, — the saU was gone ! She never saw it more ! Year after year she lives alone Upon that fatal shore : Unconscious of her faded form. She braids ner snow-white hair ; To guide her bridegroom thro* the storm. The Beacon Ught is there ! 21 TEACH, OH TEACH ME TO FORGET. Friends depart, and Memory takes thcni To her caverns pure and deep ; And a forced smile only wakes them From the shadows where they sleep. AVho shall school the heart's affection ? Who shall banish it's regret ? If yon blame my deep dejection. Teach, oh teach me to forget ! Bear me not to festive bowers ; 'Twas with them I sat there last ! Weave me not spring's early flowers, They'll remind me of the past ! Music seems like mournful wailing In the halls where we have met ; Mirtli's gay call is TUiavailing — Teach, oh teach me to forget ! 22 One who hopelessly remembers, Cannot bear a dawning light ; He would rather watch the embers Of a love that once was bright : Who shall school the heart's affection ? Who shall banish it's regret? If you blame my deep dejection — Teach, oh teach me to forget ! MAY THY LOT IN LIFE BE HAPPY. May thy lot in life be happy, undisturbed by thoughts of me, The God who shelters innocence, thy guard and guide will be ; Thy heart will lose the chilling sense of hopeless love at last. And the sunshine of the future chase the shadows of the past. I never wish to meet thee more, though I am still thy friend — I never wish to meet thee more, since dearer ties must end ; With worldly smiles and worldly words, I could not pass thee by, Nor turn from thee unfeelingly with cold averted eye. I could not bear to meet thee 'midst the thoughtless and the gay ; I could not bear to view thee deck'd in fashion's bright array ; And less could I endure to meet thee pensive and alone, When thro' the trees the ev'ning breeze breathes forth it's cheerless moan. For 1 have met thee 'midst the gay — and thought of none but thee ; And I have seen thy bright array — when it was worn for me ; And often near the sunny waves I've wandered by thy side, With joy — that pass'd away as fast as sunshine from the tide. I never wish to meet thee more, — yet think not I've been taught, By smiling foes, to injure thee by one unworthy thought. No — blest with some beloved one, from care and sorrow free. May thy lot in life be happy, undisturb'd by thoughts of me. 24 MY HARP OF SMILES. Oh if upon my harp of smiles One string may still be found, For THEE once more I'll strive to wake It's long neglected sound : I must be gay, that smile of thine Ne'er shone on me in vain. Come forth my harp of smiles ! I'll sing My cheerful songs again. I thought that in my solitude Such songs would ne'er be sung, But thou art here — and I am changed ! My very heart feels young ! One link restored, we reunite The long-lost, broken chain ; Come forth, my harp of smiles ! I'll sing My cheerful songs agaui. 25 I'll siiig of Love ! aye love like thine, Still faithful to it's vow ; I'll sing of joy ! the boundless joy That fills my bosom now : I'll tell thee tales of constancy That triumphs over ])ain — Come forth my harp of smiles ! I'll sing My cheerful songs again . FLAG OF THE WRECK. UxDER the white cliff INIoulders the wreck, See, the huge top-mast Lies on the deck ; Ne'er shall its Avhite wings Hover again, Like a wild sea-bird Over the main. 26 Tom is the banner Blood-red and blue ; — Where is the captain ? Where are the crew ? Hush'd are their passions, Calm is their sleep, Under the billows Five fathom deep. Desperate beings, Reckless as brave ! Ocean — your war-field. Now is your grave ! Tempests have riven Topmast and deck, Sea-weed flaunts o'er them. Flag of the Wreck ! 27 FLY AWAY. TRETTY MOTH ! Fly away, pretty Moth ! tt) the shade Of the leaf whei'e you slumbcr'd all day ; Be content ^vith the moon and the stars, pretty moth ! And make use of your wings, while yoo may : Though yon ijlittcriuff liijht May have dazzled yo\i quite, Though the gold of yon' lamp may be gay ; Many things in this world that look bright, pretty moth Only dazzle to lead us astray ! I have seen, pretty moth I in the world Some as wild as yourself, and as gay, Who bewitch'd by the sweet fascination of eyes, Fhtted round them by night and by day : But thouffh dreams of deliffht INIay have dazzled them quite, They at last found it dangerous play ! Many things in this world that look bright, pretty moth Only dazzle to lead us astray ! E 2 28 I'D BE A BUTTERFLY. I'd be a Butterfly born in a bower Where roses, and lilies, and violets meet, P,oving for ever from flower to flower. And kissing all buds that are pretty and sweet : I'd never languish for wealth or for power, I'd never sigh to see slaves at nay feet, I'd be a butterfly born in a bower. Kissing all buds that are pretty and sweet. Oh could I pilfer the wand of a fairy, I'd have a pair of those beautiful wings ; Their summer day's I'amble is sportive and airy. They sleep in a rose when the nightingale sings : Those who have wealth must be watchful and wary. Power, alas ! nought but misery brings ; I'd be a butterfly sportive and airy, Rock'd in a rose when the nightingale sings. 29 What though you tell me each gay little rover Shrinks from the breath of the first autumn day ; Surely 'tis better when summer is over To die — when all fair things are fading away : Some in life's winter may toil to discover JSIeans of procuring a weary delay, I'd be a butterfly living a rover, Dying when fair things are fading away. BE A BUTTERFLY THEN. Be a Butterfly then ! — ^be the wildest, the worst, Of the Insects that flutter Life's summer away ; Fly from bower to boAver, as if thou wer't nurst For no end upon P>arth but to trifle and play ; Leave the laboiu* of life to the Ant and the Bee, Wlule the Avorld is so bright, what is labour to thee ? 30 Be a Butterfly then !-^a mere siimmer day's toy, To and fro flitting ever from smiles to repose ; Turn away from all shadows, and fancy it joy To ramble in sunshine, or sleep in a rose : Leave the labom- of Ufe to the Ant and the Bee, While the world is so bright, what is labour to thee ? Be a Butterfly then ! — but the summer is brief, And a season of tempest too soon will arrive ; When the garden has lost every blossom and leaf, Thou wilt sigh for the sweets of the sheltering hive ; Though the winter has joy for the Ant and the Bee, When the world is so cold, what is pleasure to thee ? 31 ONE MORN I LEFT MY BOAT. One mom I left my boat, to stray In yon' island's de^\y bowers, I cull'd it's sweets and sail'd away AVith my stolen store of flowers : The west w^ind bore me o'er the flood. My prize from the smi I shaded ; But ere ev'ni ng came the fairest bud In my lovely wreath was faded ! That eve when nought but sea, and sky, In the dreary prospect blended, A little blue-wing'd butterfly Upon the deck descended ! It nestled near the rose, it's wing Then lost it's buoyant power, And I saw the uisect withering Beside its own poor flower. 32 ROUND MY OWN PRETTY ROSE. Round my own pretty rose, I have hover'd all day, I have seen its sweet leaves one by one fade away ; They are gone, they are gone, — but I go not with them. No, I linger to weep o'er the desolate stem : They say if I rove to the south, I shall meet With hundreds of roses, more fair and more sweet ; But my heart when it is tempted to wander replies — Here my first love — my last love — my only love lies ! When I sprang from the home where my plumage was nurst, 'Twas my own pretty rose that attracted me first ; We have loved all the summer, and now that the chill Of the winter comes o'er us, I'm true to thee still : AVhen the last leaf is Avithered, and falls to the earth. The false one to southerly climes may fly forth ; But truth cannot fly from his soitow, — he dies Where his first love, — his last love, — his only love lies. 33 WAKE, DEAREST LOVE ! THE MOON IS BRIGHT. Wake, dearest Love ! the moon is bright ; Dream not away so sweet a night ; Wlien clouds come on, repose at ease, But do not waste nights fair as these : The very birds ai*e all awake ! The swan is roused and skims the lake ! The world's so briglit, the summer bee Believes 'tis noon ! — then come to me ! Oh ! 'tis the time for serenades ! When the moon peeps thro' orange shades. Guitars and voices gain a tone Of sweet endiantment, not their own ! There's a wild cadence in the breeze ! A murmur in the trembUng trees ! The silver ripple of the sea Has music in it I — come to me ! 34 And few such nights are left us now, The yellow tint is on the bough ; The farewell whisper Summer gives Just curls the lake, just fans the leaves ; Too soon will wane the harvest moon, The latest rose will fade too soon ; But in my heart there still will be A summer — if you'll come to me. I'M SADDEST WHEN I SING. You think I have a merry heart Because my songs are gay. But, Oh ! they all were taught to me By friends now far away : The bird will breathe her silver note Though bondage binds her wing — But is her song a happy one ? I'm saddest when I sing ! 35 I heard them first in tliat sweet home I never more sliall see. And now each song of joy, has got A mournful tiun for me : Alas ! 'tis vain in winter time To mock the songs of spring, Each note recalls some wither'd leaf — I'm saddest when I sing ! Of all the friends I used to love My liarp remains alone ; It's faithful voice still seems to be An echo to my own : My tears when I bend over it Will fall upon it's string, Yet those who hear me, little think I'm saddest when I sing ! 1- 2 36 ISABEL. Wake, dearest, wake ! and, again united. We '11 rove by yonder sea ; And where our first vows of love were plighted, Our last farewell shall be ; There oft I 've gaz'd on thy smiles delighted. And there I '11 part from thee, Isabel. Dark is my doom ; and from Thee I sever, Whom I have lov'd alone ; 'T were cruel to link thy fate for ever With sorrows like my own ; Go — smile on livelier friends, and never Lament me when I 'm gone, Isabel. 37 And when at length m these lovely bowers Some happier youth you see, And you cuU. Jbr him spring's sweetest flowers, And he sings of love for thee ; When you laugli with him at these vanish'd hours, O ! tell him to love liA-e me, Isabel. May his harp in mirthfvd moments bless thee With measures light and gay ; And if mournful thoughts should e'er oppress thee, And cloud thy youthful day. May He with unchanging love caress thee, And kiss thy tears away, Isabel. 38 THE JNIOTHER'S LULLABY. Dearest Infant ! pure as fair, Whilst I watch thy closing eye, Thus, my babe, thy mother's prayer, Mingles with her lullaby. Oh be content And innocent ! When thy Ups' uncertain sound Ripens into words at length ; When thy foot, upon the ground Steps, relying on it's strength ; Oh be content And innocent ! 39 When the tempting world shall come With the garlands that she weaves, Some without a thorn — but some Hiding poison in their leaves ; Oil be content And innocent ! TAKE AGAIN ALL YOU GAVE. Take again all you gave as the proofs of yom- love, Take them back for their value is gone ; They Avere dear to me once, but with others you rove, I am left to weep o'er them alone. Since the heart you gave with them no longer is mine. Since my tears and entreaties are vain ; Fare thee well ! each remembrance I proudly resign. They are worthless— receive them again ! 40 Take the harp so long used to the songs of your choice, When your taste was content Avith my skill ; Take it back, since you now find no charm in my voice Though 1 sing your old favourites still : Take the garlands you sportively taught mc to twine — Take the steed that you led by the rein ; Fare thee well ! each remembrance I proudly resign, They are worthless — receive them again ! THE DARK WINTER TIME. A GOBLET with gems may be shining. Though bitter the poison within. So gay wreaths are often entwining The lure that entices to sin : Oh ! turn from the false tongues that flatter, Theij cannot ennoble a crime : Oh ! think of the thorns they would scatter O'er thy path — ^in the dark winter time ! 41 The home of thy youth may be lonely, The friends of thy youth may be cold ; The morals they teach may seem only Fit chains for the feeble and old : Yet though they may fetter a spirit That soars in the pride of it's prime, The friends of thy uifancy merit All thy love — in the dark winter tune ! The stranger in gems would array Thee; More pure are the braids thou hast ^^•orn Say — would not their lustre betray Thee, Attracting the finger of scorn ? Go gaze once again on thy dwelling, The porch where the wild flowers climb ; Go pray, while thy young heart is swelling- Pray for peace — in the dark Avinter time. G 42 THE FORAVARD SPRING. Spring once was impatient of schooling and nursing, And grew \evy fine for a season so young ; Her playthings she scorned, artificially forcing The charms of her person, the wit of her tongue : Her snowdrops neglecting, her roses displaying. And singing- — as summer birds only shonhl sing ; She smiled, and the world her attractions surveying, Declared it had ne'er seen so forwai'd a Spring ! But soon this same world, which is never unwilling To lower pretensions it sanctioned in haste ; Perceived that her mornings and evenings were chiUing, And all her forced fruit was found wanting in taste. " Alas !" cried the yoimg year, " the charms that I boasted " If lavished too early, too early decay ; " I've lost the pure pleasure of Spring, and exhausted " The green leaves that might have made Summer look gay." 43 And now I will venture to look for a moral, In this little song, which so simple appears ; Go Childhood And play with your bells and your coral, And sigh not for pleasures imfit for yoiu- years : Though lnj'aiicij tutored by art, prematurely INlay imitate iiiaii in k>ok, action, and tone ; Life's Summer will not be forestalled, and too surely The clianii of life's Spring-time for ever is gone ! THOUGH THE SUMMER MAY HAVE ROSES. Though the Summer may have roses That outshine the buds of spring, Deeper shadows in the forest, Blither birds upon the wing : When I see a bright spring morning- After long — long days of gloom ; Summer seems to sport around me In his infancy of bloom ! G 2 44 Oh 'tis sad to see the splendor Of the Summer pass away ; When the night is always stealing- Precious moments from the day : But in Spring each lengthen'd evening- Tempts us farther oiF from home ; And j/" Summer has more beauty, All that beauty is to come ! OH ! LEAVE ME TO MY SORROW. Oh ! leave me to my sorrow. For my heart is oppress'd to-day ; Oh ! leave me, — and to-morrow Dark shadows may pass away : There's a time when all that grieves us Is felt with a deeper gloom ; Thei'e's a time when Hope deceives us, And we dream of bright days to come. 45 In winter, from the mountain The stream in a torrent flows ; In summer, the same fountain Is calm as a child's repose : Thus, in grief, the first pangs wound us. And tears of despair gush on ; Time brings forth ncAV flowers around us, And the tide of our grief is gone ! Then heed not my pensive liours. Nor bid me be cheerful now ; Can sunshine raise the flowers That droop on a blighted bough ? The lake in the tempest wears not The brightness it's slumber wore ; The heart of the mourner cares not For joys that were dear before. 46 GO, aiY OWN DARLING BOY. Go, my own darling Boy, Though to see thee depart, BHghts the last bud of joy In my desolate heart : Thou art call'd to the field Where thy father was slain ; And thy mother must yield Her last treasure again. My Child only tliinks Of the conqueror's wreath ; My coward heart shrinks With forebodings of death : Thy friends may be seen Giving laurels to Thee ; But branches as green WUl then wave over me ! 47 The young may assuage Half their parting regrets, But care clings to age — Till it doats — and forgets ! The young who deplore. May yet meet thee in joy ; But thy mother no more Sliall behold Thee— dear Bov ! SHE NEVER BLAMED HIM,— NEVEB. She never blamed him — never. But received him when he came, With a welcome kind as ever, Though she started at his name : But vainly she dissembled. For whene'er she tried to smile A tear unhidden trembled In her blue eye all the while. 48 She kiiew that she was dying, And she dreaded not her doom ; She never thought of siglung O'er her beauty's bhghted bloom : She knew her cheek was alter'd, And she knew her eye was dim ; But her sweet voice only falter'd AVhen she spoke of leaving him. 'Tis true that He had lured her From the Isle where she was born ; "Tis true He had inured her To the cold world's cruel scorn : But yet she never blamed him, For the anguish she had known. And though she seldom named him — Yet she thought of him alone. 49 She sighed when he caress'd lier, For she knew that they must part ; She spoke not wlien He press'd her To his young and panting heart : The banners waved aroimd her, iVnd slie heard the bugles sound ; They pass'd — and strangers found her Cold and hfeless on the groiuid. THE NURSERY TALE. Oh ! did you not hear in your nursery, The tale that the gossips tell, Of the two young Girls that came to drink At a certain Fairy well ? The words of the Yoimgest were as sweet As the smile on her ruby lip ; But the tongue of the Eldest seemed to move As if venom were on its tip ! H 50 At the Avell a Beggar accosted them, (A Sprite in a mean disguise ;) The Eldest spoke with a scornful brow, The Youngest Avith tearful eyes : Cried the Fairy " whenever you speak, sweet girl, " Pure gems from your hps shall fall ;" " But whenever you utter a word, proud maid, " From your tongue shall a sei"pent crawl." And haA'^e you not met with these sisters oft In the haunts of the old and young ? 'YVe first with her pure and unsullied lip ? The last with her serpent tongue 1^ . . Yes — \!ae first is Goodnature — diamonds bright On the darkest theme she throws ; And the last is Slakder — leaving the slime Of the snake whejever she goes! 51 THE ISIAGICAL ISIIRROR. " Why wed you not, Baron ?" once whispered a Fairy, " There's gold in your coffers, why wed you not now ?" " Not yet," quoth the Baron, " 'tis best to be Avary, " I might make a diange for the worse you'll aUow : " My temper's a jealous one, Beauty would keep " My mind in a frenzy — I'll look 'ere I leap." " Oh give me a boon," cried the Baron — " pray give me " A JNIagical JMirror of chrystal and gold ; " And in it, if Woinankind e'er should deceive me, " The cause of her fickleness let me behold." " 'Tis your's !" said the Fairy ; " whatever may be " The cause of your grief, (/icre that cause you shall see ! " H 2 • 52 The Baron soon maiTied, soon found out his error, He sighed in his castle, a desolate place ; He eagerly sought in his INIagical Mirror The cause of the evil — and saw — his own face '. When Age finds a blank in the lot that he draws, He need raise no Fairy to tell him the cause ! YOUNG BRING AN BEWARE ! Beware of the Fairy ! yoiuig Brincan beware. Thy cheeks ai'e like roses and bright is thy hair ; Thy Beauty hath charm'd her, beware of her spell. She is calling Thee down to her bright coral cell ; Look not on the waters for danger is there, — Row homeward — row homeward ! young Brincan beware ! 53 Her spell is upon him ! like one who would leap To the arms of a mistress, he dives in the deep ; Sweet harmonies hail him, he seems to repose On an emerald pillow as downward he goes ! A Fairy receives him, oh ! Avhat is so fair As that beautiful Being ! yoiuig Brincan beware ! Her hair is sea-green ! but he heeds not it's hue When he looks on her eyes of ethereal blue ; He loves the fair sea nymph, forgetting the worth Of his own betrothed maiden, the fairest on earth : 'Tis morn and he leaves her — liis boat is still there — Row homeward — row homeward ! — young Brincan beware ! The spell is dissolved as he steps on the shore. He seeks his bethroth'd — but she loves him no more ! " Thy hair," she exclaims, " is as green as the sea ! " And a web-footed Man is no Ijover for me ! " — 'Tis thus with the Fickle, wlio fond vows forswear For Fairy, or Woman ! so Lovers, beware ! 54 MY WIFE IS VERY MUSICAL. My Wife is very musical, She tunes it over much, And teazes me with what they call Her fingering and touch \ She's instrtimental to my pain, Her very Broadwood quakes ! Her vocal efforts split my brain ! I shiver when she shakes ! She teUs me, with the greatest ease Her voice goes up to C ! And proves it, till her melodies Are mahidies to me : She's " Isahelling" if I stir From where my books lie hid, Or " Oh no we never mention her" — I wish she never did • 5& Her newest turns, turn out to be The same we heard last year ; Alas ! there's no variety In variations here : I see her puflF, I see her pant Thro' ditties wild and strange, I wish she'd change her notes, they want Some silver^ and some change ! BENEDICITE DAUGHTER. The Lady Abbess was gone to her rest, And the Nuns in tiieir cells were sleeping, Save one who sick of- so dull a nest, Was over the battlement peeping ; And under the convent wall she spied, A boat on the dimpling water. And in it a youth who fondly cried — " Come down — Benedicite Daughter ! " 56 She threw him one end of a silken thread, And she kept fast hold of the other, " Be silent — be silent" — she trembling said, " Or you'll wake our Lady Mother ! " She drew up a ladder of ropes, and soon The youth in his stout arms caught her ; " Away !" he cried, " by the light of the moon, " Away ! Benedicite Daughter ! " The Lady Abbess awoke — and she heard A noise at the midnight hour ; She counted her brood, and missing a Bird, She sought it in hall and tower: The ladder she spied — and down it she hied — — But she tumbled into the water ! The boat sail'd off, and the Lovers cried " Farewell ! Benedicite Daughter !" 57 LORD HARRY HAS WRITTEN A NOVEL LoKU Harry has written a Novel, A story of elegant life ; No stuff about love in a hovel, No sketch of a clown and his wife : No trash such as pathos, and passion. Fine feelings, expres-sion, and wit. But all about people of fashion. Come look at his caps, how they fit ! Oh, Raddiffe ! thou once wcrt the charmer Of girls who sat reading all night ; Thy Heroes were striplings in armour ! Thy Heroines damsels in white ! But past are thy terrible touches, Our lips in derision we curl, L^nless we are told how a Duchess Conversed Avith her cousin, the Earl ! 58 Our dialogues now must be quite full Of Titles, " I give you my word, " My Lady, you 're looking delightful ! " " Indeed, do you think so, my Lord ! " " You 've heard of the Marquiss's marriage, " The Bride with her jewels new set, " Four horses, new travelling carriage, " And Dejeuner a lajburchette." Haut ton finds her privacy broken, We trace all her ins and her outs ; The very small talk that is spoken By very great people at routs : At Tenby Miss Jinks asks the loan of The book from the innkeeper's wife ; And she reads tiU she dreams she is one of The leaders of elegant life. 59 FAIRY FAVOURS ! I HAVK dreamt of Fairy favours, Of the gold that hes conceal'd, AVhere no outward mark betrays it In the poor man's sterile field : Is not Industry the Fairy, "Who can call these favours forth ; AVho can raise a siolden harvest From the bosom of tlic earth ? I have dreamt of Fairy favours, Of the spell that will secure True Love through all it's trials, Still as holy, and as pure : Is not Constancy the Faiiy ? Is not Innocence her speU ? Yes, a Paradise she raises Where true Love delights to dwell. I 2 60 I have dreamt of Fairy favours. Of a Home of perfect bliss, No Monarch has a Palace Half so beautiful as this : And is not Content the Fairy, Who beholds the map unfurl'd. And points to her own dwelling. As the best in all the world ? THIS IS MY ELDEST DAUGHTER, SIR! This is my eldest Daughter, Sir, Her mother's only care ; You praise her face — oh ! Sir, she is As good as she is fair ! ISly angel Jane is clever too, Accomplishments I 've taught her ! I 'U introduce you to her. Sir, — This is my eldest Daughret. 61 I 've sought the aid of ornament, Bejewelling her curls, 1 've tried her Beauty unadorned, Simplicity and pearls : I 've set her off to get her off, 'Till fallen off I 've thought her ; Yet I 've softly breathed to all the Beaux — " This is my eldest Daughter." I 've tried all styles of hair dressing. Madonnas, frizzes, crops ; Her waist I 've laced ; her back 1 've braced, 'Till circulation stops ! I 've padded her until I have Into a Venus wrought her. But puffing her has no effect ! —This is my eldest Daughter. 62 Her gowns are a la Ackerman, Her corsets a la Bell ; Yet when the season ends, each Beau Still leaves his T. T. 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