The wind is blowing strong,
The breeze will aid your oars,
O swiftly fly along,

For he lies among the Moors!
The fresh breeze of the sea
Cools every cheek but mine,
O hot is its breath to me
As I gaze upon the brine !

Lift up, lift up your sail

And bend upon your oars,
O lose not the fair gale,

For he lies among the Moors!
It is a narrow strait,

I see the blue hills over,
Your coming I'll await,

And thank you for my lover.

To Mary I will pray

While ye bend upon your oars,

"Twill be a blessed day

If ye fetch him from the Moors.

ROW, GALLANT COMRADES, ROW. [Tune-"Row well, ye mariners." 16th century.] Row, gallant comrades, row,

The sun is near his western bed;
Upon the waters glow

Unnumber'd gems of

gorgeous

red;

The stars that peer to usher night,
Scarce reveal their trembling light;
Before the silver moon we see,
Safe at home we all should be.
Then row well, row well,
No breath upon the water stirs,
Then row well, row well,

With all your might, ye mariners.

I 2

Row, gallant comrades, row,

The log is crackling on the hearth,
Kind voices, well we know,

Will greet us with the sound of mirth.
The cares that fill the anxious breast,
Soon we'll lull to happy rest,

And drooping spirits we shall cheer:
Row the welcome shore is near.
Then row, &c.

BRIGHT THINGS CAN NEVER DIE.

C. H. HITCHINGS.]

[Music by E. F. RIMBAULT.

BRIGHT things can never die,

E'en though they fade,

Beauty and minstrelsy

Deathless were made.

What though the summer day

Passes away,

Doth not the moon's soft ray
Silence the night?
Kind words can never die,
Saith my philosophy;
Deep in the soul they lie,
All know how dear.

Like childhood's simple rhymes

Said o'er a thousand times,
Ay, in all years and climes,

Distant and near.
Childhood can never die ;

Wrecks of the past,

Float on our memory,
E'en to the last.
Sweet fancies never die,

They leave behind

Some fairy legacy

Stored in the mind.

AND HAVE I LOST THEE?

LADY DUFFERIN.]

AND have I lost thee?

[Music by LADY DUFFERIN.

Is thy love a dream of other days?
Can act of mine no longer move
Thy censure or thy praise?

I miss thee from the lonely hearth-
I miss thy quiet smile!

Thy voice with its melodious mirth,
Thy lips that knew not guile !
I gaze on thine accustom'd place,
But strangers fill it now;

Alas! and is there left no trace
Of one so lov'd as thou?

And have-have I lost thee?

And have I lost thee?

Must I learn to live through lonely years!
To seek for love in eyes that turn

All coldly from my tears?

Thy silent home !-none greet me there,
None speak to me of thee!

Our ancient haunts no longer wear

Familiar looks to me!

Restore, thou silent tomb, restore

The young hopes thou hast slain !

Give back the lov'd and lost once more!

Give me mine own again!

And have I lost thee?

MAYST THOU BE HAPPY.

J. E. CARPENTER.]

[Music by J. P. KNIGHT.
MAYST thou be happy each coming day,
Some gleam of sunshine still round thee play,
True hearts to greet thee and meet thy caress,
Friends to adore and one loved one to bless;

Though I have proffered my friendship in vain,
Striven, but vainly, thy young heart to gain ;
Why should I not wish thee well in my heart?—
Mayst thou be happy although we must part.
Mayst thou be happy-it was not to be
Thy future lot should be centred in me,
Tho' I was true as the earth to the sun,
Love, to be perfect, is two hearts in one;
All that I ask is, remember me still

As one who'd have bow'd to thy wish or thy will,Who sought not thy wealth, but thy hand and thy

heart;

Mayst thou be happy, although we must part.

TAKE BACK THE VIRGIN PAGE.

T. MOORE.]

TAKE back the virgin page,

[Air-" Dermot,"

White and unwritten still; Some hand more calm and sage "The leaf must fill.

Thoughts come as pure as light,

Pure as even you require;
But, oh! each word I write,
Love turns to fire.

Yet let me keep the book;
Oft shall my heart renew,
When on its leaves I look,
Dear thoughts of you.
Like you, 'tis fair and bright;
Like you, too bright and fair
To let wild passions write
One wrong wish there.

Haply, when from those eyes
Far, far away, I roam,
Should calmer thoughts arise
Towards you and home,

8. LOVER.]

Fancy may trace some line
Worthy those eyes to meet;
Thoughts that not burn, but shine,
Pure, calm, and sweet.

And as the records are,

Which wand'ring seamen keep,
Led by their hidden star
Through winter's deep;
So may the words I write

Tell through what storms I stray,
You still the unseen light

Guiding my way!

THE ANGEL'S WING.

[Music by S. LOVER. [There is a German superstition, that when a sudden silence takes place in a company, an angel at that moment makes a circuit among them, and the first person who breaks the silence is supposed to have been touched by the wing of the passing seraph. For the purposes of poetry, I thought two persons preferable to many, in illustrating this very beautiful superstition.]

WHEN by the evening's quiet light

There sit two silent lovers,

They say, while in such tranquil plight,
An angel round them hovers;
And further still old legends tell,-
The first who breaks the silent spell,
To say a soft and pleasing thing,
Hath felt the passing angel's wing.
Thus, a musing minstrel stray'd
By the summer ocean,
Gazing on a lovely maid,

With a bard's devotion :-
Yet his love he never spoke,

Till now the silent spell he broke;-
The hidden fire to flame did spring,
Fann'd by the passing angel's wing!