Then, the joyous banquet spread On the cool and fragrant ground, With heaven"s bright sparklers overhead, And still brighter sparkling round.
Oh, then, how sweet to say Into some loved one"s ear, Thoughts reserved thro" many a day To be thus whispered here.
When the dance and feast are done, Arm in arm as home we stray, How sweet to see the dawning sun O"er her cheek"s warm blushes play!
Then, too, the farewell kiss-- The words, whose parting tone Lingers still in dreams of bliss, That haunt young hearts alone.
LOVE IS A HUNTER-BOY.
(LANGUEDOCIAN AIR.)
Love is a hunter-boy, Who, makes young hearts his prey, And in his nets of joy Ensnares them night and day.
In vain concealed they lie-- Love tracks them every where; In vain aloft they fly-- Love shoots them flying there.
But "tis his joy most sweet, At early dawn to trace The print of Beauty"s feet, And give the trembler chase.
And if, thro" virgin snow, He tracks her footsteps fair, How sweet for Love to know None went before him there.
COME, CHASE THAT STARTING TEAR AWAY.
(FRENCH AIR.)
Come, chase that starting tear away, Ere mine to meet it springs; To-night, at least, to-night be gay, Whate"er to-morrow brings.
Like sunset gleams, that linger late When all is darkening fast, Are hours like these we s.n.a.t.c.h from Fate-- The brightest, and the last.
Then, chase that starting tear, etc.
To gild the deepening gloom, if Heaven But one bright hour allow, Oh, think that one bright hour is given, In all its splendor, now.
Let"s live it out--then sink in night, Like waves that from the sh.o.r.e One minute swell, are touched with light, Then lost for evermore!
Come, chase that starting tear, etc.
JOYS OF YOUTH, HOW FLEETING!
(PORTUGUESE AIR.)
Whisperings, heard by wakeful maids, To whom the night-stars guide us; Stolen walks thro" moonlight shades, With those we love beside us, Hearts beating, At meeting; Tears starting, At parting; Oh, sweet youth, how soon it fades!
Sweet joys of youth, how fleeting!
Wanderings far away from home, With life all new before us; Greetings warm, when home we come, From hearts whose prayers watched o"er us.
Tears starting, At parting; Hearts beating, At meeting; Oh, sweet youth, how lost on some!
To some, how bright and fleeting!
HEAR ME BUT ONCE.
(FRENCH AIR.)
Hear me but once, while o"er the grave, In which our Love lies cold and dead, I count each flattering hope he gave 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 thro" many a day?
Hear me but once, etc.
WHEN LOVE WAS A CHILD
(SWEDISH AIR.)
When Love was a child, and went idling round, "Mong flowers the whole summer"s day, One morn in the valley a bower he found, So sweet, it allured him to stay.
O"erhead, from the trees, hung a garland fair, A fountain ran darkly beneath;-- "Twas Pleasure had hung up the flowerets there; Love knew it, and jumped at the wreath.
But Love didn"t know--and, at _his_ weak years, What urchin was likely to know?-- That Sorrow had made of her own salt tears The fountain that murmured below.
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.
This garland he now wears night and day; And, tho" it all sunny appears With Pleasure"s own light, each leaf, they say, Still tastes of the Fountain of Tears.
SAY, WHAT SHALL BE OUR SPORT TO-DAY?