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 sweet dis-order, Now sleeps in yon - der grove: If thus her beau-ties charm me, All sleep-ing as she lies, 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. [lie! 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. Moderato. 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, ww 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 1st. come, we come, Says the double, double, double beat of the 2nd. 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 |