Stanzas For Music.[J]

Forgotten so soon Are thy vows when we parted, Have other links bound thee, Thou fickle false-hearted? Go fling to the winds thy last tenderest vow, They are not so changing, so reckless as thou.

Can the tear on thy cheek, The warm gush from thy heart, So soon dry their torrent? So quickly depart? Like dew on the flower, like the web when 'tis broken,-- Oh frailer than these, woman's vows when they're spoken.

And was it for this, In my heart's holiest shrine, No memory was hidden, No image but thine? And I deem'd thee some hallow'd, some heaven-given thing, Entwined round my bosom for ever to cling.

I had perill'd my all On that treacherous bark, A woman's fond love;-- When the billows grew dark, The bright sea was ruffled, the loud storm rush'd on, My hopes are all wreck'd, and that light bark is gone.

Go, faithless, and weep! For I scorn thy words now; Yet no tears thou wilt shed Can heal one broken vow; No weeping can cleanse that one foul perjured stain, Or quench the keen fire that now scorches my brain.

Yet stay, false one, stay; There's a worm in thy breast, A gloom on thy soul Where no sunshine shall rest; To which e'en the agony thou hast made mine Is blessing and bliss when compared but with thine.

FOOTNOTE:

[J] This song, and one from the "Traditions of Lancashire," "They bade me sing, they bade me smile," were set to music by Mr. Charles Smith, author of "Hohenlinden" and other popular songs. The stanzas immediately following were also set by him as a glee. Cramer, Addison, & Co. 201 Regent Street.

THE FAIRIES' SONG.

Merry, merry elves we be, O'er the bright and bounding sea, Dancing merrily. We glide to the shore in our fairy bark, When the moon looks out on high, And the waves twinkle round us in many a spark, Like radiant melody. We dance to the sound of the calm cold billow, Ere it sleeps on the sand, ere it dies on its pillow.

Merry, merry elves we be, Under the greenwood tree, Dancing merrily. And the moon through yon white and fleecy cloud, Pale, silent, and softly creeps, Like a spectre clad in a silvery shroud, While nature quietly sleeps. We merrily trip it with twinkling feet, As the leaves rustle o'er us in melody sweet. Away, away, At break of day, For night is the fairies' holiday.