THOUGH "TIS ALL BUT A DREAM. (FRENCH AIR.) THOUGH 'tis all but a dream at the best, Is so sweet, that I ask for no more. With earliest hopes The soonest finds those hopes untrue; In spring-time burst The earliest wither too! Ay-'tis all but a dream, &c. Though by friendship we oft are deceiv'd, And find Love's sunshine soon o'ercast, Yet Friendship will still be believ'd, And Love trusted on to the last. The web 'mong the leaves The spider weaves Is like the charm Hope hangs o'er men; Though often she sees 'Tis broke by the breeze, She spins the bright tissue again. WHEN THE WINE-CUP IS SMILING. (ITALIAN AIR.) WHEN the wine-cup is smiling before us, And we pledge round to hearts that are true, boy, true, Then the sky of this life opens o'er us, And Heaven gives a glimpse of its blue. Talk of Adam in Eden reclining, We are better, far better off thus, boy, thus ; For him but two bright eyes were shiningSee, what numbers are sparkling for us! When on one side the grape-juice is dancing, I care not how fast it goes on, boy, on; WHERE SHALL WE BURY OUR SHAME? WHERE shall we bury our shame; Where, in what desolate place, Hide the last wreck of a name Broken and stain'd by disgrace? Death may dissever the chain, Oppression will cease when we're gone; But the dishonour, the stain, Die as we may, will live on. Was it for this we sent out Oh, Shudder, as o'er you we tread? NE'ER TALK OF WISDOM'S GLOOMY SCHOOLS. (MAHRATTA AIR.) NE'ER talk of Wisdom's gloomy schools; Give me the sage who's able To draw his moral thoughts and rules This world and all that's in it, From the bumper that but crowns his glass, The diamond sleeps within the mine, The pearl beneath the water; While Truth, more precious, dwells in wine, The grape's own rosy daughter. And none can prize her charms like him, HERE SLEEPS THE BARD. HERE sleeps the bard who knew so well DO NOT SAY THAT LIFE IS WANING. Do not say that life is waning, Or that Hope's sweet day is set; Do not think those charms are flying, Beauty hath a grace undying, Which in thee survives them all. Not for charms, the newest, brightest, That on other cheeks may shine, Would I change the least, the slightest, That is ling'ring now o'er thine. THE GAZELLE. Dost thou not hear the silver bell, Through yonder lime-trees ringing? 'Tis my lady's light gazelle, To me her love thoughts bringing, All the while that silver bell Around his dark neck ringing. See, in his mouth he bears a wreath, Hid within the mystic wreath, My love hath kiss'd in tying! Welcome, dear gazelle, to thee, Who thus hath breath'd her soul to me, Hail, ye living, speaking flowers, That breathe of her who bound ye; |