II.
This pretty thing's as light, Sir,
As any paper kite, Sir,

And here and there,

And God knows where,
She takes her wheeling flight, Sir.
Us lovers, to amuse us,
Unto her tail she nooses ;

There, hung like bobs

Of straw, or nobs,
She whisks us where she chooses.

I SAW THE MOON RISE CLEAR.

I.

I saw the moon rise clear

O'er hills and vales of snow,
Nor told my fleet rein-deer

The track I wish'd to go.
But quick he bounded forth ;

For well my rein-deer knew
I've but one path on earth-

The path which leads to you.

II.
The gloom that winter cast

How soon the heart forgets !
When summer brings, at last,

The sun that never sets.
So dawn'd my love for you ;

Thus chasing every pain,
More true than summer sun,

'Twill never set again.

JOYS THAT PASS AWAY.

1.

Joys that pass away like this,

Alas! are purchased dear, If every beam of bliss

Is follow'd by a tear.
Fare thee well! oh, fare thee well!
Soon, too soon thou hast broke the spell.
Oh! I ne'er can love again

The girl whose faithless art
Could break so dear a chain,

And with it break my heart.

a

II.
Once, when truth was in those eyes,

How beautiful they shone;
But now that lustre flies,

For truth, alas! is gone.
Fare thee well! oh, fare thee well!
How I've loved my hate shall tell.
Oh! how lorn, how lost would prove

Thy wretched victim's fate,
If, when deceived in love,

He could not fly to hate.

LIGHT SOUNDS THE HARP.

I. Light sounds the harp when the combat is over

When heroes are resting, and joy is in bloomWhen laurels hang loose from the brow of the

lover, And Cupid makes wings of the warrior's plume.

But, when the foe returns,

Again the hero burns;
High flames the sword in his hand once more :

The clang of mingling arms

Is then the sound that charms, And brazen notes of war, by thousand trumpets

roar.

Oh! then comes the harp, when the combat is

over

When heroes are resting, and joy is in bloomWhen laurels hang loose from the brow of the

lover, And Cupid makes wings of the warrior's plume.

II.

Light went the harp when the War-God, reclining,

Lay lulld on the white arm of Beauty to rest, When round his rich armour the myrtle hung

twining, And flights of young doves made his helmet

their nest.

But, when the battle came,
The hero's

eye

breathed flame : Soon from his neck the white arm was flung;

While to his wakening ear

No other sounds were dear, But brazen notes of war, by thousand trumpets

But then came the light harp, when danger was

ended,

And Beauty once more lull'd the War-God to

rest;

When tresses of gold with his laurels lay blended, And flights of young doves made his helmet their nest.

LITTLE MARY'S EYE.

I.

LITTLE Mary's eye

Is roguish, and all that, Sir;
But her little tongue

Is quite too full of chat, Sir.
Since her eye can speak

Enough to tell her blisses,
If she stir her tongue,

Why-stop her mouth with kisses!

Oh! the little girls,

Wily, warm, and winning;

When angels tempt us to it,

Who can keep from sinning?