And the bride maidens whispered, "Twere better by far,

To have matched our fair cousin with young Lochvar."

One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear, When they reach'd the hall door, and the charger stood near;

So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung,
So light to the saddle before her he sprung!

"She is won! we are gone over bank, bush, and

scaur;

They'll have fleet steeds that follow," quoth young Lochinvar.

There was mounting 'mong Græmes of the Netherby clan;

Forsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and they ran;

There was racing and chasing, on Cannobie Lee, But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see; So daring in love, and so dauntless in, war,

Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar.

SWEETS OF AFFECTION.

WHEN I first saw the youth who to me came a wooing,

Down by yon banks where the waves gently flow, "Twas there the soft language my courage subduing,

First taught me the sweets of affection to know. 'Twas there he sang gayly, my fancy entrancing, That I scarcely believ'd that the night was advancing,

The moon beam'd so gay, the waves' tops were dancing,

Dawn by yon banks where the waves gently flow.

I strove not to listen, but how could I deceive him,
Down by yon banks where the waves gently flow;
He swore he would die, if I did not believe him,
And this is no time to kill sailors, you know.
A parting he look'd, and heav'd such a sigh, too,
I really believe he'd a tear in his eye, too;
If he can forget it, I can't say that I do,
Down by yon banks where the waves gently flow.

THE LIGHT HOUSE.

BY THOMAS MOORE.

THE Scene was more beautiful far to my eye
Than if day in its pride had array'd it ;
The land breeze blew mild, and the azure arch'd
sky,

Look'd pure as the Spirit that made it.

The murmur rose soft as I silently gaz'd,
In the shadowy waves' playful motion;
From the dim distant hill, till the Light-house fire
blaz'd,

Like a star in the midst of the ocean.

No longer the joy of the sailor boy's breast,
Was heard in his wildly breath'd numbers,
The sea bird had flown to her wave-girdled nest,
T'he fisherman suuk to his slumbers.

One moment I look'd from the hill's gentle slope;
All hush'd was the billow's commotion,

And tho't that the Light-house look'd lovely as hope,

That star of life's tremulous ocean.

The time is long past, and the scene is afar,
Yet when my head rests on its pillow,
Will memory sometimes rekindle the star
That blazed on the breast of the billow.
I

In life's closing hour, when the trembling soul flies,
And death still's the heart's last emotion;
O then may the seraph of mercy arise!
Like a star on eternity's ocean.

THE AMERICAN CAPTIVE.

LAND of my birth, farewell! The sea rolls dark; The golded sun behind yon waves descending, Now lights yon hills. Now is the soaring lark

Her sweetest notes with nature's mattins ending; And now my Mary's prayer to Heaven ascending, May bless these arms with home and liberty. Ah! no my soul! This awful gloom impending, And death-like shades that glide along the sea, Whisper, Poor, lonely sailor, home is not for thee Early my youthful bosom sought the strife That laid, alas! my gallant father low; Early my mother taught her son that life Bereft of freedom he must never know; Yet, from aloft do British streamers flow! Mary, a long farewell! My pangs are o'er ; My soul her anchor weighs; and, when the glow Of early morn illumes yon darksome shore, This form shall soundly sleep, though Indian billows

roar.

THE POST CAPTAIN.

WHEN Steerwell heard me first impart
Our brave commander's story,
With ardent zeal his youthful heart
Swell'd high for naval glory.

Resolv'd to gain a valiant name,

For bold adventure eager,

When first a little cabin boy on board the Fame, He would hold on the jigger.

While ten jolly tars, with musical Joe,
Hove the anchor a-peak, singing, yeo, heave yoe.
To hand top-ga'nt sails next he learnt,
With quickness, care, and spirit,
Whose gen'rous master soon discern'd
And priz'd his dawning merit:
He taught him soon to reef and steer,
When storms convuls'd the ocean,
Where shoals made skilful vetran's fear,
Which mark'd him for promotion.

For none to the pilot e'er answered like he,
When he gave the command, Hard a-port, helm's

a-lee.'

For valour, skill, and worth renown'd,
The foe he oft defeated,

And now with fame and fortune crown'd,
Post-captain he is rated:

Who, should our injur'd country bleed,
Still boldly he'd defend her-
When blest with peace, if beauty plead,
He'll prove his heart is tender.

Unaw'd, yet mild to high and low,
To poor and wealthy, friend or foe-
Wounded tars share his wealth,

All the fleet drink his health—

Priz'd be such hearts, for aloft they must go,
Who always are ready compassion to show
To a brave conquered foe.

THE STREAMLET THAT FLOWED
ROUND HER COT.

A Popular Air.

THE streamlet that flow'd round her cot,
All the charms of my Emily knew;

How oft has its course been forgot,
While it paus'd her dear image to woo!

163236

Believe me, the fond silver tide

Knew from whence it deriv'd the fair prize, For silently swelling with pride,

It reflected her back to the skies.

THE WOOD ROBIN.

STAY, Sweet enchanter of the grove,
Leave not so soon thy native tree;
O, warble still those notes of love,
While my fond heart responds to thee.
O, warble still, &c.

Rest thy soft bosom on the spray,
Till chilly autumn frowns severe;
Then char me with thy parting lay,
And I will answer with a tear.
Then charm me, &c.

But soon as spring enrich'd with flowers,
Comes dancing o'er the new-drest plain;
Return and cheer my natal bow'rs,
My Robin, with those notes again.
Return and cheer, &c.

SAID A SMILE TO A TEAR.
An Elegant and Popular Ballad.

SAID a smile to a tear,

On the cheek of my dear,

And beamed like the sun in spring weather,
In sooth lovely tear,

It strange must appear,

That we should be both here together.