MAY-EVE; OR, KATE OF THE silver moon's enamour'd beam To beds of state go, balmy sleep, Upon the green the virgins wait, Till morn unbar her golden gate, Strike up the tabor's boldest notes, The nested birds shall raise their throats, And see-the matin lark mistakes, Fond bird! 'tis not the morning breaks, 'Tis Kate of Aberdeen. Now lightsome o'er the level mead, For see the rosy May draws nigh; And hark-the happy shepherds cry, CUNNINGHAM. SONG OF THE GHEBER. (SOLO.) Lo! 't is sunset's rosy hour! Nature's hush'd to silence deep; All in heav'n or earth below (CHORUS.) Lo! the golden sun is setting! (SOLO.) 'Tis the hour when thousands kneel, Faithful to their burning shrine ;Childhood e'en from play doth steal Worshipping the sun's decline. Thus when fretful life is o'er, May my end in peace thus be, Like that sunset's tranquil hour Full of love and purity. (CHORUS.) May our sun of life declining, H. MUNROE. ON PARTING. THE kiss, dear maid! thy lip hath left The parting glance, which fondly beams, An equal love may see: The tear that from thine eyelid streams, Can weep no change in me. I ask no pledge to make me blest, Nor one memorial for a breast Whose thoughts are all thine own. Nor need I write-to tell the tale Unless the heart could speak? By day or night, in weal or woe, Must bear the love it cannot show, TO FRANCES. BYRON. SWEET as the rose that scents the gale, Yet with a heart like summer hail, Beauty like thine, all nature thrills; Which on the breast thou wearest. Where could those peerless flow'rets blow? Whence are the thorns that near them grow? Wound me, but smile, O lovely foe, Smile on the heart thou tearest. |