For a breeze of morning moves,
And the planet of Love is on high,
Beginning to faint in the light that she loves
On a bed of daffodil sky,
To faint in the light of the sun she loves,
To faint in his light and to die.
There has fall'n a splendid tear
From the passion-flow'r at the gate.
She is coming, my dove, my dear;
She is coming, my life, my fate.
The red-rose cries," She is near, she is near,"
And the white rose weeps,
The larkspur listens, "I hear, I hear;
And the lily whispers, "I wait.'
She is coming, my own, my sweet;
Were it ever so airy a tread,
My heart would hear her and beat,
Were it earth in an earthy bed;
My dust would hear her and beat,
Had I lain for a century dead;
Would start and tremble under her feet,
And blossom in purple and red.
R. BURNS.-Music at Z. T. Purday's.
Он, my love's like a red, red rose,
That's newly sprung in June
Oh, my love's like the melody
That's sweetly play'd in tune.
As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
Sae deep in love am I;
And I will love thee still, my dear,
Till a' the seas gang dry.
Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi' the sun;
And I will love thee still, my dear,
While the sands o' life shall run.
And fare thee weel, my only love,
And fare thee weel a while;
And I will come again, my love,
Though it were ten thousand mile.
DARLING NELL.
THOMAS DAVIS.
WHY should not I take her unto my heart?
She has not a morsel of guile or art.
Why should not I make her my happy wife,
And love her and cherish her all
my life?
I've met with a few of as shining eyes,
I've met with a hundred of wilder sighs,
I think I've met some whom I loved as well-
But none who loved me like my Darling Nell.
She's ready to cry when I seem unkind,
But she smothers her grief within her mind ;
And when my spirit is soft and fond,
She sparkles the brightest of stars beyond.
Oh, 'twould teach the thrushes to hear her sing;
And her sorrow the heart of a rock would wring;
There never was saint but would leave his cell,
If he thought he could marry my Darling Nell.
WINNING EYES.
ROBERT BROUGH.-Music at Campbell's.
THOU hast winning eyes, Mary,
Glad, and passing bright;
Ever by their gentle fire
Setting hearts alight;
Beaming, gleaming, fairly streaming
Forth with lightsome glee!
They must shine on somebody;
Oh, let them shine on me.
Thou hast pouting lips, Mary,
Red as ruby gem,
Tempting as the autumn cherry
Drooping on its stem;
Glowing, showing dimples knowing,
Dangerous to see!
They must smile on somebody;
Oh, let them smile on me.
But thou hast a heart, Mary,
Well its worth I know;
How it bounds at others' pleasure—
Melts at others' woe;
Fairest, rarest charm thou bearest,
Rich though others be!
It must beat for somebody;
Oh, let it beat for me.
FORGET THEE!
Rev. JOHN MOULTRIE.
"FORGET thee !"-If to dream by night, and muse on thee by day, [pay, If all the worship deep and wild a poet's heart can If prayers in absence, breathed for thee to Heaven's [an hour, If winged thoughts that flit to thee, a thousand in If busy Fancy blending thee with all my future lot~If this thou call'st "forgetting," thou indeed shalt be forgot!
"Forget thee!"-Bid the forest birds forget their sweetest tune. [the moon; "Forget thee!"-Bid the sea forget to swell beneath Bid the thirsty flowers forget to drink the eve's refreshing dew; [tains wild and blue;" Thyself forget thine "own dear land" and its "mounForget each old familiar face, each long-remember'd spot[be forgot! When these things are forgot by thee, then thou shalt Keep, if thou wilt, thy maiden peace still calm and
fancy free; For God forbid thy gladsome heart should grow less
Yet, while that heart is still unwon, oh, bid not
mine to rove, love: But let it muse its humble faith and uncomplaining If these preserved for patient years at last avail me
not, [forgot! Forget me then ;-but ne'er believe that thou canst be
O SAY NOT WOMAN'S LOVE IS BOUGHT.
PоCOCK.-Music at Davidson's.
Он, say not woman's love is bought
With vain and empty treasure;
Oh, say not woman's heart is caught
By every idle pleasure.
When first her gentle bosom knows
Love's flame, it wanders never;
Deep in her heart the passion glows-
She loves, and loves for ever!
Oh! say not woman's false as fair;
That like the bee she ranges,
Still seeking flowers more sweet and rare,
As fickle fancy changes :
Ah, no, the love that first can warm
Will leave her bosom never:
No second passion e'er can charm-
She loves, and loves for ever!
"MY NANNIE, O."
ROBERT BURNS.
BEHIND yon hills where Lugar flows
Mang muirs and mosses many, O!
The wintry sun the day has closed,
And I'll awa' to Nannie, O!
The westlin wind blaws loud and shrill,
The night's baith mirk and rainy, O!
But I'll get my plaid, and out I'll steal,
And o'er the hills to Nannie, O!
My Nannie's charmin', sweet, and young;
Nae artfu' wiles to win ye, O!
May ill befa' the flattering tongue
That wad beguile my Nannie, O!
Her face is fair, her heart is true,
As spotless as she's bonnie, O!
The openin' gowan, wet in dew,
Nae purer is than Nannie, O!
A country lad is my degree,
And few there be that ken me, O!
But what care I how few they be-
I'm welcome aye to Nannie, O!
My riches a's my penny fee,
And I maun guide it cannie, O
But the world's gear ne'er troubles me,-
My thochts are a' my Nannie, O!
Our auld gude man delights to view
His sheep and rye thrive bonnie, O!
But I'm as blythe, that hauds his plou',
And hae nae care but Nannie, O!
Come weel, come wae, I care na by;
I'll tak' what Heaven will send me, O!
Nae other care in life hae I,
But live and love my Nannie, O!
O! NANNIE, WILT THOU GANG WI' ME?
T. PERCY, D.D.
O! NANNIE, wilt thou gang wi' me,
Nor sigh to leave the flaunting town?
Can silent glens have charms for thee,
The lowly cot, and russet gown?
Nae langer drest in silken sheen,
Nae langer deck'd wi' jewels rare,
Say, canst thou quit each courtly scene,
Where thou wert fairest of the fair?
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