SEE, THE DAWN FROM HEAVEN. Sung at Rome, on Christmas Eve. I. SEE, the dawn from heaven is breaking o'er our sight, See, those groups of Angels, winging from the realms above, On their sunny brows from Eden bringing wreaths of Hope and Love. II. Hark-their hymns of glory pealing through the air, To mortal ears revealing who lies there! In that dwelling, dark and lowly, sleeps the heavenly Son, He, whose home is in the skies,-the Holy One! R NATIONAL AIRS. No. IV. NETS AND CAGES. Swedish Air. I. COME, listen to my story, while Your needle's task you ply; At what I sing some maids will smile, While some, perhaps, may sigh. Though Love's the theme, and Wisdom blames Such florid songs as ours, Yet Truth sometimes, like eastern dames, Can speak her thoughts by flowers. At what I sing there's some may smile, II. Young Cloe, bent on catching Loves, III. Much Cloe laugh'd at Susan's task; These light-caught Loves, ere you could ask Their name and age, were gone! So weak poor Cloe's nets were wove, New game each hour, the youngest Love Come, listen, maids, etc. IV. Meanwhile, young Sue, whose cage was wrought One Love with golden pinions caught, That, though 'tis pleasant weaving Nets, The task your fingers ply.— May all who hear, like Susan smile, Ah! not like Cloe sigh! WHEN THROUGH THE PIAZZETTA. Venetian Air. I. WHEN through the Piazzetta Night breathes her cool air, Then, dearest Ninetta, I'll come to thee there. I'll know thee afar, As Love knows, though clouded, II. In garb, then, resembling "Twill waft thee safe over Yon silent Lagoon." GO, NOW, AND DREAM. Sicilian Air. I. Go, now, and dream o'er that joy in thy slumberMoments so sweet again ne'er shalt thou number. Of Pain's bitter draught the flavour never flies, While Pleasure's scarce touches the lip ere it dies! II. That moon, which hung o'er your parting, so splendid, But, ah! never more will the beam she saw burn TAKE HENCE THE BOWL. Neapolitan Air. I. TAKE hence the bowl; though beaming Oh! it but sets me dreaming Lost hopes and dead affection, II. Each cup I drain brings hither Warm hearts, too warm to die! FAREWELL, THERESA! Venetian Air. I. FAREWELL, Theresa! that cloud which over Yon moon this moment gath'ring we see, Shall scarce from her pure orb have pass'd, ere thy lover Swift o'er the wide wave shall wander from thee. II. Long, like that dim cloud, I've hung around thee, Dark'ning thy prospects, sadd'ning thy brow; With gay heart, Theresa, and bright cheek I found thee; Oh! think how changed, love, how changed art thou now! III. But here I free thee: like one awaking From fearful slumber, this dream thou❜lt tell; HOW OFT WHEN WATCHING STARS. Savoyard Air, How oft, when watching stars grow pale, And round me sleeps the moonlight scene, To hear a flute through yonder vale I from my casement lean. "Oh! come, my love!" each note it utters seems to say; "Oh! come, my love! the night wears fast away!" No, ne'er to mortal ear Can words, though warm they be, Speak Passion's language half so clear As do those notes to me! II. Then quick my own light lute I seek, And strike the chords with loudest swell; And, though they nought to others speak, He knows their language well. "I come, my love!" each sound they utter seems to say; "I come, my love! thine, thine till break of day." Oh! weak the power of words, The hues of painting dim, Compared to what those simple chords Then say and paint to him. |