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Toastit, toast it cheerily

Here's to the devil with thinking ! Oh ! for the round of pleasure,

With sweetly-smiling lasses Glasses o'erflowing their measure,

With hearts as full as our glasses. Send the bowl round merrily,

Laughing, singing, drinking; Toast it, toast it cheerily

Here's to the devil with thinking !

II.

Once I met with a funny lass,

Oh! I loved her dearly! Left for her my bonny glass

Faith! I died for her nearly.
But she proved damn'd uncivil,

And thought to peck like a hen, sir ;
So I pitch'd the jade to the devil,
And took to my glass again, sir.

Then send the bowl, etc.

III.

Now I'm turn'd a rover,

In love with every petticoat ; No matter whom it may cover,

Or whether it's Jenny's or Betty's coat; And, if the girls can put up

With any good thing in pieces,
My heart I'll certainly cut up,
And share it with all young misses.

Then send the bowl, etc.

IV.

A bumper round to the pretty ones !

Here's to the girl with the blue eyes ! Here's to her with the jetty ones,

Where the languishing dew lies !
Could all such hours as this is

Be summ'd in one little measure,
I'd live a short life of blisses,
And die in a surfeit of pleasure !

Then send the bowl, etc.

THE DAY OF LOVE.

I.
The beam of morning trembling

Stole o'er the mountain brook,
With timid ray resembling

Affection's early look.
Thus love begins--sweet morn of love !

II.
The noon-tide ray ascended,

And o'er the valley stream
Diffused a glow as splendid

As passion's riper dream.
Thus love expands—warm noon of love!

III.
But evening came, o'ershading

The glories of the sky,
Like faith and fondness fading

From Passion's alter'd eye.
Thus love declines-cold eve of love!

THE PROBABILITY.

I.
My heart is united to Chloe's for ever,
No time shall the link of their tenderness sever;
And, if Love be the parent of joy and of pleasure,
Sure Chloe and I shall be blest beyond measure.

II.

Come, tell me, my girl, what's the sweetest of blisses ? “ I'll show you,” she cries, and she gives me sweet

kisses; Ah, Clo’! if that languishing eye's not a traitor, It tells me you know of a bliss that is greater.

III. “ Indeed and I do not;"—then softly she blushes, And her bosom the warm tint of modesty flushes“ I'm sure if I knew it, I'd certainly show it, But, Damon, now Damon, dear, may be you know it?" THE SONG OF WAR.

1. The song of war shall echo through our mountains,

Till not one hateful link remains
Of slavery's lingering chains

Till not one tyrant tread our plains,
Nor traitor lip pollute our fountains.

No! never till that glorious day
Shall Lusitania's sons be gay,

Or hear, oh Peace! thy welcome lay
Resounding through her sunny mountains.

II.
The song of war shall echo through our mountains,

Till Victory's self shall, smiling, say,
“ Your cloud of foes hath pass'd away,

And Freedom comes with new-born ray, “ To gild your viņes and light your fountains.”

Oh! never till that glorious day
Shall Lusitania's sons be gay,

Or hear, oh Peace! thy welcome lay
Resounding through her supny mountains.

THE TABLET OF LOVE.

1. You bid me be happy, and bid me adieuCan happiness live when absent from you ? Will sleep on my eyelids e'ersweetly alight, When greeted no more by a tender good night? Oh, never ! for deep is the record enshrined ; Thy look and thy voice will survive in my mind : Though age may the treasures of mem'ry remove, Unfading shall flourish the Tablet of Love.

II. Through life's winding valley-in anguish, in rest; Exalted in joy, or by sorrow depress'da From its place in the mirror that lies on my heart, Thine image shall never one moment depart. When time, life, and all that poor mortals hold dear, Like visions, like dreams, shall at last disappear, Though raised among seraphs to realms above, Unfading shall flourish the Tablet of Love.

THE YOUNG ROSE.

I. The young rose which I give thee, so dewy and bright, Was the flow'ret most dear to the sweet bird of night, Who oft by the moon o'er her blushes hath hung, And thrill'd every leaf with the wild lay he sung.

II. Oh ! take thou this young rose, and let her life be Prolong'd by the breath she will borrow from thee! For, while o'er her bosom thy soft notes shall thrill, She'll think the sweet night-bird is courting her still.

WHEN IN LANGUOR SLEEPS THE HEART.

I.

When in languor sleeps the heart,
Love can wake it with his dart;
When the mind is dull and dark,
Love can light it with his spark.

II.
Come, oh! eome then, let us haste,
All the bliss of love to taste;
Let us love both night and day,
Let us love our lives away!

III.
And for hearts from loving free
(If indeed such hearts there be),
May they ne'er the rapture prove
Of the smile from lips we love.

WHEN 'MIDST THE GAY I MEET.

I.
WĦEN ’midst the gay I meet

That blessed smile of thine,
Though still on me it turns most sweet,

I scarce can call it mine :
But when to me alone

Your secret tears you show,

Oh! then I feel those tears my own,

And claim them as they flow.
Then still with bright looks bless

The gay, the cold, the free ;
Give smiles to those who love you less,

But keep your tears for me.

II.

The snow on Jura's steep

Can smile with many a beam,
Yet still in chains of coldness sleep,

How bright soe'er it seem.
But, when some deep-felt ray,

Whose touch is fire, appears,
Ok! then the smile is warm’d away,

And, melting, turns to tears.
Then still with bright looks bless

The gay, the cold, the free;
Give smiles to those who love you less,

But keep your tears for me.

WHEN TWILIGHT DEWS.

I.
When twilight dews are falling soft

Upon the rosy sea, love !
I watch the star, whose beam so oft

Has lighted me to thee, love!
And thou too, on that orb so clear,

Ah! dost thou gaze at even,
And think, though lost for ever here,
Thou'lt yet be mine in Heaven?

II.
There's not a garden walk I tread,

There's not a flower I see, love !
But brings to mind some hope that's fled,

Some joy I've lost with thee, love!
And still I wish that hour was near,

When, friends and foes forgiven, The pains, the ills we've wept through here,

May turn to smiles in Heaven!

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