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THE GERMAN BALLAD SINGER.
And thou seest thy parents far away,
And thy sister, lov'd like mine; 0! they long for thee as thou for them
And thine own beloved Rhine.
Thy song is done—we are parted now,
And may never meet ay:in ;
And thy song was not in vain.
May a happy lot he thine ! -
90. THE UNIVERSAL DANCE.
Look at the leaves, how they dance on the tree,
And the birds dance from spray to spray;
And look at the mighty waves of the sea, How they dance and sport 'neath the sun's glad ray.
And look at the stars, how they dance in the sky,
To the “music of the spheres ;”
And see how the hours and days dance by, In the dance of the circling years.
And thoughts, how they dance through the busy brain, Must be very well known to you;
The young blood dances in every vein, And—why shouldn't I dance too?
91. THE BEGGAR.
Pity the sorrows of a poor old man !
Whose trembling limbs have borne him to your door, Whose days are dwindled to the shortest span;
Oh! give relief, and Heaven will bless your store.
These tattered clothes my poverty bespeak,
These hoary locks proclaim my lengthened years; And many a furrow in my grief-worn cheek,
Has been the channel to a stream of tears.
Yon house, erected on the rising ground,
With tempting aspect drew me from my road, For plenty there a residence has found,
And grandeur a magnificent abode.
(Hard is the fate of the infirm and poor !)
Here craving for a morsel of their bread,
To seek a shelter in a humbler shed.
Oh! take me to your hospitable home,
Keen blows the wind, and piercing is the cold! Short is my passage to the friendly tomb,
For I am poor, and miserably old.
Should I reveal the source of every grief,
If soft humanity e'er touched your breast, Your hands would not withhold the kind relief,
And tears of pity could not be represt.
Heaven sends misfortunes—why should we repine ?
'Tis Heaven has brought me to the state you see : And your condition may be soon like mine,
The child of sorrow and of misery.
A little farm was my paternal lot,
Then, like the lark, I sprightly hailed the morn; But ah ! oppression forced me from my cot;
My cattle died, and blighted was my corn.
My daughter-once the comfort of my age !
Lured by a villain from her native home,
And doomed in scanty poverty to roam.
My tender wife-sweet soother of my care !
Struck with sad anguish at the stern decree, Fell-lingering fell, a victim to despair,
And left the world to wretchedness and me.
Pity the sorrows of a poor old man !
Whose tremblinglimbshave borne him to your door, Whose days are dwindled to the shortest span; Oh! give relief, and Heaven will bless your store.
92. A SKETCH FROM A PAINTER'S STUDIO.
A TRIPPING, fair, light-hearted girl,
Not yet the ripened woman quite,
Light up the cottage with delight,
BALLAD OF THE TEMPEST.
93. BALLAD OF THE TEMPEST.
We were crowded in the cabin,
Not a soul would dare to sleep,-
And a storm was on the deep.
So we shuddered there in silence,
For the stoutest held his breath;
And the breakers talked with death.
As thus we sat in da rkness,
Each one busy in his prayers,
As he staggered down the stairs.
As she took his icy hand-
Just the same as on the land ?"
Then we kissed the little maiden,
And we spoke in better cheer,
94. THE BEST REVENGE.
THE best revenge is love :-disarm
Give water to thy thirsting foo;
Perfumes the axe that lays it low. (From the Persian.)
VILKES. THE BLIND BOY AND HIS SISTER.
95. THE BLIND BOY AND HIS SISTER.
"Oh, brother,” said fair Annie,
To the blind boy at her side;
O'er all things far and wide !
“Would, thou could'st see the waters
In many a distant glen;
I would that thou could'st ken !
As well as I see thine;
Yet thou dost ne'er repine.”
“And why should I repine, Annie?''
Said the blind boy with a smile ;
For many and many a mile.
For all ye may believe;
Like gorgeous hues of eve.