For, like the bleak cloud driving o'er
A sunless sky, were life's dark day,

If Love, amid the storm, forbore
To bid his rainbow play:

And, e'en should ills the bosom wring,

His balm can shed the best relief

For oh, with gentle solacing,

There is a joy in grief!

Full oft, as round this world I roam,
Pursuing dreams that still delude,

I'll think upon thy quiet home

With fond solicitude:

And, whatsoe'er my lot reveal,

If Fortune's star thy voyage bless,

Like moonlight flowers, my heart shall feel

Reflected happiness.

Then, let the note of rapture swell!

I'll join with those, tho' far away,

Who wish thee and thy young Bride well On this auspicious day.

My lute is trembling in the light

A vase of wine is at my side

By Cupid! I'll drink deep this night

To thee and thy young Bride!

WITHERED VIOLETS

Long years have passed, pale flowers! since you
Were culled and given, in brightest bloom,
By one whose eye eclipsed your blue-
Whose breath was like your own perfume.

Long years! but, tho' your bloom be gone,
The fragrance which your freshness shed
Survives, as memory lingers on

When all that blessed its birth has fled.

Thus hues and hopes will pass away— Thus youth, and bloom, and bliss depart:

Oh, what is left when these decay?

The faded leaf-the withered heart!

SONG

Away with regret! why remember
Our griefs when the goblet's so boon?
We have all felt the blast of December-
Let this be the sunshine of June!

I see by the flash of each eye, boys,
There's none in a humour to whine:

But if care should presume to draw nigh, boys,
By Bacchus ! we'll duck him in wine!