Where now are the flowers that embroider'd the vale, And where are the wild-woods that wav'd in the gale, For a moment they're hid, but soon shall the veil With the dawning of morn their return I shall hail, But where are the thoughts that once gladden'd my heart, And where are the visions which blissful did start? Yes, for ever!-no more shall Eliza's bright eye, Its heaven-born lustre has fled in a sigh, And left my sad bosom in night. X. LINES, In imitation of the Italian. Love under friendship's vesture white, 'Tis Love and Love is still the same. XI. THE WISH. Mine be a cot beside the hill; A bee-hive's hum shall soothe my ear; The swallow oft beneath my thatch, Around my ivy'd porch shall spring The village church among the trees, XII. AN ITALIAN SONG. Dear is my little native vale ; The ring-dove builds and murmurs there; To every passing villager. In orange groves and myrtle bowers, That breathe a gale of fragrance round, I charm the fairy-footed hours, With my loved lute's romantic sound Or crowns of living laurel weave, For those that win the race at eve. The shepherd's horn at break of day- Sung in the silent green-wood shade. XIII. A FAREWELL Once more, enchanting girl, adieu ! The sweet expression of that face, ва Yet give me, give me, ere I go, Say, when to kindle soft delight, That hand has chanced with mine to meet, How could its thrilling touch excite A sigh so short, and yet so sweet? O say—but no, it must not be Yet still, methinks, you frown on me, XIV. ON A TEAR *. Oh! that the chemist's magic art Could crystallize this secret treasure! A secret source of pensive pleasure. *This beautiful little song, and likewise the four which immediately precede it, are taken from the compositions of Samuel Rogers, Esq; Banker, London. Besides these, and several others of a similar nature, he is the |