Here's a myrtle enwreath'd with a jessamine band, To express the fond twining of beauty and youth; Take this emblem of love in thy exquisite hand, And do thou sway the evergreen sceptre of Truth! Then around you we'll dance, and around you we'll sing! To soft pipe, and sweet tabor we'll foot it away! And the hills, and the vales, and the forests shall ring While we hail you our lovely young Queen of the May. THE CALL. GEORGE DARLEY. Awake thee, my lady-love! Wake thee and rise! The sun through the bower peeps Behold how the early lark Springs from the corn! Hark, hark how the flower-bird Winds her wee horn! The swallow's glad shriek is heard All through the air! The stock-dove is murmuring Loud as she dare! Apollo's wing'd bugleman But peals his loud trumpet-call Then wake thee, my lady-love! Bird at this hour. SONG OF A GREEK ISLANDER IN EXILE. MRS. HEMANS. Where is the sea?-I languish here Where is my own blue sea? And flags and breezes free! I miss the voice of waves-the first The measur'd chime, the thundering burst--- Oh! with your myrtles breath may rise, Soft, soft, your winds may be ; Yet my sick heart within me dies-Where is my own blue sea? I hear the shepherds mountain flute, ["A Greek islander being taken to the Vale of Tempe, and called upon to admire its beautiful scenery, replied Yes, all is fair; but the sea-where is it."" Mrs. Hemans.] ARE OTHER EYES. L. E. L. VOL. I. Are other eyes beguiling, Love? Are other white arms wreathing, Love? Then gaze not on other eyes, Love; You may find many a brighter one T All thine own, 'mid gladness, Love; Though chang'd from all that now thou art, TO MARY. O Mary, I love thee with purest devotion, Wherever my footsteps by fancy are taken I hear thee, I see thee, thine image is there, Though round me the wild wintry waters are foaming Though wafted far from thee, think not thou'rt forsaken I pray with the tempest, send sighs with the air-But live on believing that distance will wakenEven higher love in me for Mary the fair: THE FISHER'S WELCOME. THOMAS DOUBLEDAY. We twa hae fish'd the Kale sae clear, 'Tis mony years sin' first we met For we are hale an' hearty baith, An' climb the dykes and knowes; An we'll hae a plash among the lads, For the days o' lang syne. |