Were hours of grief, together past, Than years of mirth apart, dear love! than years of mirth apart! V. Farewell! our hope was born in fears, And nursed 'mid vain regrets! Like winter suns, it rose in tears, Like them in tears it sets, dear love! like them in tears it sets! GAILY SOUNDS THE CASTANET. Maltese Air. I. GAILY sounds the castanet, Beating time to bounding feet, Lighted by those eyes we love II. Then, the joyous banquet spread On the cool and fragrant ground, With night's bright eye-beams overhead, Into the loved one's ear, Thoughts reserved through many a day To be thus whisper'd here. III. When the dance and feast are done, Then, then the farewell kiss, And words whose parting tone That haunt young hearts alone. LOVE IS A HUNTER-BOY. Languedocian Air. I. LOVE is a hunter-boy, Who makes young hearts his prey, Ensnares them night and day. Love tracks them every where; In vain aloft they fly Love shoots them flying there. II. But 'tis his joy most sweet, And give the trembler chase. To trace those footsteps fair, For then the boy doth know None track'd before him there. COME, CHASE THAT STARTING TEAR AWAY. French Air. I. COME, chase that starting tear away, Like sun-set gleams, that linger late When all is dark'ning fast, Are hours like these we snatch from Fate The brightest and the last. Then, chase that starting tear, etc. 11. To gild our dark’ning life, if Heaven Oh! think that one bright hour is given, Let's live it out-then sink in night, One minute swell-are touch'd with light- Then, chase that starting tear, etc. JOYS OF YOUTH, HOW FLEETING! Portuguese Air. I. WHISP'RINGS, heard by wakeful maids, Hearts beating, at meeting,— Oh! sweet youth, how soon it fades! HEAR ME BUT ONCE. French Air. I, HEAR me but once, while o'er the grave, Of joys now lost and charms now fled, Who could have thought the smile he wore, When first we met, would fade away? Or that a chill would e'er come o'er Those eyes so bright through many a day? NATIONAL AIRS. No. III. WHEN LOVE WAS A CHILD. Swedish Air. I. WHEN Love was a child, and went idling round, II. O'erhead, from the trees, hung a garland fair, A fountain ran darkly beneath 'Twas Pleasure that hung the bright flowers up there; Love knew it, and jump'd at the wreath. III. But Love didn't know-and at his weak years IV. He caught at the wreath-but with too much haste, As boys when impatient will do It fell in those waters of briny taste, And the flowers were all wet through. V. Yet this is the wreath he wears night and day, With Pleasure's own lustre, each leaf, they say, SAY, WHAT SHALL BE OUR SPORT TO-DAY? Sicilian dir. I. SAY, what shall be our sport to-day? 'Tis like the returning bloom Of those days, alas! gone by, When I loved each hour I scarce knew whom,-- ·II. Ay, those were days when life had wings, BRIGHT BE THY DREAMS! Welch Air. BRIGHT be thy dreams-may all thy weeping In dreams come smiling to thee! II. There may the child, whose love lay deepest, Dearest of all, come while thou sleepest; Still the same no charm forgot→→ Nothing lost that life had given ; Or, if changed, but changed to what Thou'lt find her yet in Heaven! |