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We'll wing the hours with soft delight,
And murmur, as they pass, "Good night!"

Good night, good night! and is it so? &c.

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"Good night!" you'll echo with a sigh,
And tell me it is time to fly :

And I will ask one moment more,
Yet linger happier than before,
"Till morning brings her joyful light,

And then, my love! my soul! Good night!
Good night, good night! and is it so? &c.

FRIEND OF MY SOUL.

FRIEND of my Soul! this Goblet sip,
"Twill chase thy pensive tear;
'Tis not so sweet as Woman's lip,
But oh! 'tis more sincere.

Like her delusive beam,
"Twill steal away thy mind;
But like affection's dream,
It leaves no sting behind!

Come, twine the wreath, thy brows to shade.
These flowers were cull'd at noon;
Like Woman's love the rose will fade,
But, ah! not half so soon!
For tho' the flower's decay'd,
Its fragrance is not o'er;
But once when love's betray'd,

The heart can bloom no more!

NOW LET THE WARRIOR.

Now let the Warrior plume his steed,

And wave his sword afar,

For the men of the East this day shall bleed, And the sun shall blush with war.

Victory sits on the Christian's helm,

To guide her holy hand;

The Knights of the Cross this day shall whelm
The men of the Pagan land.

O blest who in the battle dies!
God will enshrine him in the skies.
Now let the Warrior plume his steed,
And wave his sword afar;

For men of the East this day shall bleed,
And the sun shall blush with war.

WHEN TIME WHO

STEALS OUR

YEARS AWAY.

WHEN time who steals our years away,

Shall steal our pleasures too,

The memory of the past will stay,

And half our joys renew.

Then, Cloe, when thy beauty's flower
Shall feel the wintry air,

Remembrance will recall the hour

When thou alone wert fair.

Then talk no more of future gloom,
Our joys shall always last,

For hope shall brighten days to come,
And memory gild the past.

Come, Cloe, fill the genial bowl,
I drink to love and thee;
Thou never canst decay in soul,
Thou'lt still be young for me.
And as thy lips the tear-drop chase
Which on my cheek they find,
So hope shall steal away the trace,
Which sorrow leaves behind!
Then fill the bowl, away with gloom,
Our joys shall always last;

For hope shall brighten days to come.
And memory gild the past.

But mark, at thought of future years,
When love shall lose its soul,
My Cloe drops her timid tears,

They mingle with my bowl!

How like this bowl of wine, my fair,
Our loving life shall fleet,

Though tears may sometimes mingle their,

The draught will still be sweet! Then fill the bowl, away with gloom,

Our joys shall always last,

For hope will brighten days to come,

And memory gild the past!

CEASE, O CEASE TO TEMPT.

CEASE, oh!

to love,

cease to tempt my tender le

It never, never can so wild a flame approve:

All its joys, and pains, to others I resign, But be the vacant heart, the careless bosom mine.

Then cease, oh! cease to tempt my tender heart to love,

It never can so wild a flame approve.

Say, oh! say no more that lovers' pains are

sweet!

I never, never can believe the fond deceit.
Thou lov'st the wounded heart,

I love to wander free;

So, keep thou Cupid's dart,

And leave his wings for me.

"TWAS A NEW FEELING.

'Twas a new feeling, something more Than we had dar'd to own before, Which then we hid not.

We saw it in each other's eye,

And wish'd in ev'ry half breath'd sigh,
To speak, but did not!

My hand met hers, with trembling touch, 'Twas the first time I dar'd so much,

And yet she chid not,

But seem'd to say with kindling brow, "Oh! do you doubt I love you now?" Sweet girl! I did not.

THE WREATH YOU WOVE.

The wreath you wove, the wreath you wove,

Is fair, but oh! how fair,

If pity's hand had stol'n from love

One leaf to mingle there.

If ev'ry rose with gold were tied,
Did gems for dew-drops fall,

One faded leaf, where love had sigh'd,
Were sweetly worth them all.

The wreath you wove, the wreath you wove,

Our emblem well may be,

Its bloom is yours, but hopeless love
Must keep its tears for me.

OH! WHY SHOULD THE GIRL OF MY SOUL BE IN TEARS.

OH! why should the girl of my soul be in tears, At meeting of rapture like this,

When the gloom of the past, and the sorrows of years,

Have been paid by a moment of bliss?

Are they shed for that moment of blissful delight,

Which dwells on her memory yet?

Do they flow, like the dews of the love breathing night,

From the warmth of the sun that has set?

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