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The Poetry translated from the German, and adapted expressly for this work to a German Air. Andantino.
Be-side a fountain's border, Where wanton ze-phyrs rove, A nymph in
Now sleeps in yon - der grove:
If thus her beau-ties charm me, All sleep-ing as she
What ills, a - las! shall harm
On her white arm reposing,
Than May's sweet mornings deck.
me When once she opes her eyes.
And fain would I discover
What pains my breast invade;
HAVE YE FAITH IN ONE ANOTHER.
Still have faith in one an oth-erHave ye faith in one another,
When ye whisper love's fond vow! It will not be always summer,
Nor be always bright as now:
And, when winter time comes o'er thee,
Then ye never shall despair.
Nor should doubts alone incline; That would make the world a desert, Where the sun would never shine.
You may need that friend - ship yet.
Let true honour be your guide,
What else ever may betide.
And the truth shall triumph still!
Here am I in distress. like a ship water-logg'd,
While I'm swallowing his slops,
Mus'nt flatter, commodore,' says he :
What! no more be afloat !-blood and fury! they
I'm a seaman, and only threescore !
As to death, 'tis all a joke-
The tough old commodore
The fighting old commodore, says he :-
Shall kill, till they grapple him at sea.
WIDOW WALMSLEY'S SHINERS.
Wi-dow Walmsley, scarce her hus-band cold, A little worn, and rather old, But
rolling in her dear-ie's gold, Was open to de-sign-ers, Was
open to de
sign-ers. The first week, like th' Ephe-sian dame-The first week, like th' Ephe-sian dame, She
Walmsley's shin-ers, To touch Widow Walmsley's shiners; The third a troop of
I MET UPON A JOURNEY.
The Verses from the Athenæum, translated from the German of Heine, adapted expressly for this Wor to an Air by Beauplan.
a journey The fam-i-ly of my fair, And cor-dially they
The Poetry by Mrs. Cornwell Baron Wilson.-Adapted expressly for this Work to an Air by Weber. Moderato.
To a desert turn the scene? Why let care, like blight de filing,
Steal the ro-se's leaves between, steal the 1" - se's leaves between?
Ev'ry bird, from brake and valley Warbling, tells its tale of love; Beasts from leafy covert sally,
O'er the smiling earth to rove.
Why should man, 'mid happy creatures,
Come, if you dare our trumpet's sound: Come, if you dare the foe's re-bound! We
come, we come, we
come, we come, Says the double, double, double beat of the
Early days, how fair and fleet ing, Bless'd us ere the part ing scene; Now the
fates for-bid our meet-ing, And the deep
seas roll between. Fare thee well! the love I
bear thee, Hope-less, yet shall true re-main, Hope-less, yet shall
true re-main! Ne-ver