NATIONAL AIRS.

No. II.

LOVE AND HOPE.

Swiss Air.

I.

AT morn, beside yon summer sea,
Young Hope and Love reclined ;

But scarce had noon-tide come, when he
Into his bark leap'd smilingly,

And left poor Hope behind.

II.

"I go," said Love, "to sail awhile
"Across this sunny main;"

And then so sweet his parting smile,
That Hope, who never dream'd of guile,
Believed he'd come again.

III.

She linger'd there till evening's beam

Along the waters lay,

And o'er the sands, in thoughtful dream,

Oft traced his name, which still the stream As often wash'd away.

IV.

At length a sail appears in

sight,

And tow'rd the maiden moves!

"T is Wealth that comes, and gay and bright,

His goldon bark reflects the light,

But ah! it is not Love's.

V.

Another sail-'twas Friendship show'd
Her night lamp o'er the sea;
And calm the light that lamp bestow'd:
But Love had lights that warmer glow'd,
And where, alas! was he?

VI.

Now fast around the sea and shore

Night threw her darkling chain,
The sunny sails were seen no more,
Hope's morning dreams of bliss were o'er-
Love never came again!

THERE COMES A TIME.

German Air.

I.

THERE comes a time, a dreary time,
To him whose heart hath flown
O'er all the fields of youth's sweet prime,
And made each flower its own.
'Tis when his soul must first renounce
Those dreams so bright, so fond;
Oh! then's the time to die at once,
For life has nought beyond.
There comes a time, etc.

II.

When sets the sun on Afric's shore,
That instant all is night;

And so should life at once be o'er,
When Love withdraws his light-
Nor, like our northern day, gleam on
Through twilight's dim delay,
The cold remains of lustre gone,
Of fire long pass'd away.

Oh! there comes a time, etc.

MY HARP HAS ONE UNCHANGING THEME.

Swedish Air.
I.

My harp has one unchanging theme,
One strain that still comes o'er
Its languid chord, as 'twere a dream
Of joy that's now no more.

In vain I try, with livelier air,
To wake the breathing string;
That voice of other times is there,

And saddens all I sing.

II.

Breathe on, breathe on, thou languid strain,
Henceforth be all my own;

Though thou art oft so full of pain,
Few hearts can bear thy tone.
Yet oft thou'rt sweet, as if the sigh,

The breath that Pleasure's wings
Gave out, when last they wanton'd by,
Were still upon thy strings.

OH! NO-NOT E'EN WHEN FIRST WE LOVED.

Cashmerian Air.
I.

OH! no-not e'en when first we loved,
Wert thou as dear as now thou art;

Thy beauty then my senses moved,

But now thy virtues bind my heart.
What was but Passion's sigh before,

Has since been turn'd to Reason's vow;
And, though I then might love thee more,
Trust me, I love thee better now!

II.

Although my heart in earlier youth
Might kindle with more wild desire,
Believe me, it has gain'd in truth

Much more than it has lost in fire.
The flame now warms my inmost core,
That then but sparkled o'er my brow;
And, though I seem'd to love thee more,
Yet, oh! I love thee better now.

PEACE BE AROUND THEE.
Scotch Air.
I.

PEACE be around thee, wherever thou rov'st;
May life be for thee one summer's day,
And all that thou wishest, and all that thou lov'st,
Come smiling around thy sunny way!

If sorrow e'er this calm should break,
May even thy tears pass off so lightly;
Like spring-showers, they'll only make
The smiles that follow shine more brightly!

II.

May Time, who sheds his blight o'er all,
And daily dooms some joy to death,
O'er thee let years so gently fall,

They shall not crush one flower beneath! As half in shade and half in sun,

This world along its path advances,

May that side the sun's upon

Be all that e'er shall meet thy glances !

COMMON SENSE AND GENIUS.

French Air.

I.

WHILE I touch the string,

Wreathe my brows with laurel,

For the tale I sing,

Has, for once, a moral.

Common Sense, one night,

Though not used to gambols,

Went out by moonlight,

With Genius on his rambles.
While I touch the string, etc.
II.

Common Sense went on,

Many wise things saying,
While the light that shone

Soon set Genius straying.
One his eye ne'er raised
From the path before him,
T'other idly gazed

On each night-cloud o'er him.
While I touch the string, etc.

III.

So they came, at last,

To a shady river;

Common Sense soon pass'd,
Safe, as he doth ever;
While the boy, whose look
Was in Heaven that minute,
Never saw the brook,

But tumbled headlong in it!
While I touch the string, etc.
IV.

How the wise one smiled,

When safe o'er the torrent,
At that youth, so wild,

Dripping from the current!
Sense went home to bed;
Genius, left to shiver

On the bank, 'tis said,

Died of that cold river!

While I touch the string, etc.

THEN, FARE THEE WELL!
Old English Air.

I.

THEN, fare thee well! my own dear love,

This world has now for us

No greater grief, no pain above,

The pain of parting thus, dear love! the pain of parting

thus!

II.

Had we but known, since first we met,

Some few short hours of bliss,

We might, in numbering them, forget

The deep, deep pain of this, dear love! the deep, deep pain of this!.

III.

But, no, alas! we've never seen

One glimpse of pleasure's ray,

But still there came some cloud between,

And chased it all away, dear love! and chased it all

Yet, e'en could those sad moments last,

Far dearer to my heart