THE RING AND THE WINDING SHEET.

SAMUEL LOVER.

Why sought you not the silent bow'r,
The bow'r nor hawthorn tree,
Why came you not at evening hour,
Why came you not to me?

Say, does that heart beat colder now—

Oh! tell me, truly tell

Than when you kiss'd

my burning brow,

When last you said farewell?'

As late my taper I illumed,
To sigh and watch for thee,
It soon the mystic form assum'd
Which lovers smile to see;
But fondly while I gaz'd upon

And trimm'd the flame with care,
The pledge of plighted love was gone-
The sign of death was there!

Oh, say, was this foreboding truth,

And wilt thou break thy vow,

And wilt thou blight my opening youth?

And must I-must I now

Meet death's embrace for that chaste kiss,

That holy kiss you vow'd?

And must I for my bridal dress

Be mantled in the shroud?

A SERENADE.

BARRY CORNWALL.

Awake!-the starry midnight hour
Hangs charm'd, and pauseth in its flight:
In its own sweetness sleeps the flower,
And the doves lie hushed in delight!
Awake! awake!

Look forth, my love, for Love's sweet sake!

Awake!-soft dews will soon arise

From daisied mead, and thorny brake; Then, sweet, uncloud those eastern eyes, And like the tender morning break! Awake! awake!

Dawn forth, my love, for Love's sweet sake.

Awake!-within the musk-rose bower

I watch, pale flower of love, for thee:

Ah, come, and shew the starry hour

What wealth of love thou hid'st from me!
Awake! awake!

Shew all thy love, for Love's sweet sake!

Awake!-ne'er heed, though listening night
Steal music from thy silver voice:
Uncloud thy beauty, rare and bright,

And bid the world, and me, rejoice!
Awake! awake!

She comes, at last, for Love's sweet sake!

INDIAN LOVE.

BARRY CORNWALL.

Tell me not that thou dost love me,
Though it thrill me with delight :
Thou art, like the stars, above me;
I-the lowly earth at night.

Hast thou (thou from kings descended)
Loved the Indian cottage-born;
And shall she, whom Love befriended,
Darken all thy hopeful morn?

Go, and for thy father's glory,

Wed the blood that's pure and free :

'Tis enough to gild my story,

That I once was loved by thee!

MARIAN.

BARRY CORNWALL.

Spirit of the summer breeze! Wherefore sleep'st thou in the trees? Come, and kiss the maiden rose,

That on Marian's bosom blows!

Come and fawn about her hair!

Kiss the fringes of her eyes! Ask her why she looks so fair, When she heedeth not my sighs?

Tell her, murmuring summer air,
That her beauty's all untrue;
Tell her, she should not seem fair
Unless she be gentle too !

IS MY LOVER ON THE SEA?

Is

BARRY CORNWALL.

my lover on the sea,

Sailing east or sailing west?

Nightly ocean, gentle be,

Rock him into rest!

Let no angry wind arise,

Nor a wave with whitened crest:

All be gentle as his eyes

When he is caressed!

Bear him (as the breeze above
Bears the bird unto its nest,)
Here,-unto his home of love,
And there bid him rest!

A DRINKING SONG.

BARRY CORNWALL.

Drink, and fill the night with mirth!
Let us have a mighty measure,
Till we quite forget the earth,

And soar into the world of pleasure.
Drink, and let a health go round,
('Tis the drinker's noble duty,)
To the eyes that shine and wound,
To the mouths that bud in beauty!

Here's to Helen! why, ah! why
Doth she fly from my pursuing ?
Here's to Marian, cold and shy!
May she warm before thy wooing!
Here's to Janet! I've been e'er,
Boy and man, her staunch defender,
Always sworn that she was fair,
Always known that she was tender!

Fill the deep-mouthed glasses high
Let them with the champaign tremble,
Like the loose wrack in the sky,

When the four wild winds assemble!

Here's to all the love on earth,

(Love, the young man's, wise man's treasure!)

Drink, and fill your throats with mirth!

Drink, and drown the world in pleasure!