I weep for thee—regret is vain—
Hope's dream hath pass'd away;
Was this the fate reserved for me?
Alas, it was to be!

WHO WOULD NOT BE A GIPSY

G. J. O. ALLMAN.]

FREE?

WHO would not be a gipsy free?

[Music by ALEX, LEE.

Unfetter'd each thought, each whim;

Ah! who would not roam through the merry greenwood

With bounding step like him?

Is the wind more free than the gipsy's foot?

It can roam wherever it will,

Though the wind blow east or the wind blow west,
Oh, free is the gipsy stil. !

He maketh his home 'neath the sheltering boughs,
Above him the clear blue sky;

But his sleep is more sound and sweet

'Neath that leafy canopy.

He courts not state, nor honours, nor wealth,

He envies not, nor doth despond,

And so that he lives at his ease to-day,

He hath not a care beyond.

Then who would not be, &c.

SHE IS FAR FROM THE LAND.
[T. MOORE.]

SHE is far from the land where her young hero sleeps,
And lovers are round her sighing;

But coldly she turns from their gaze, and weeps,
For her heart in his grave is lying.

F3

She sings the wild song of her dear native plains,
Every note which he loved awaking.

Ah little they think, who delight in her strains,
How the heart of the minstrel is breaking.

He had lived for his love, for his country he died;
They were all that to life had entwined him;
Nor soon shall the tears of his country be dried,
Nor long will his love stay behind him.
Oh! make her a grave where the sunbeams rest,
When they promise a glorious morrow;

They'll shine o'er her sleep, like a smile from the west,
From her own loved island of sorrow.

DEAREST, THEN I'LL LOVE THEE

S. GLOVER.]

MORE.

[Music by S. GLOVER

YES, I'll love thee, oh, how dearly,
Words but faintly can express !
This fond heart beats too sincerely,
E'er in life to love you less!
No, my fancy never ranges,

Hopes like mine can never soar;
If the love I cherish changes,
It will be to love thee more.

Though the world has many sorrows,
And perchance they may be ours,
Love from tears a brightness borrows,
Like the earth from summer showers.
We will share our grief and gladness,
In the future as of yore,

And in all your hours of sadness,
Dearest, then I'll love thee more.

Youth may pass, but ask not whether
When you're old I'll love as true;
Shall we not grow old together,

And time's changes mark me too!

Life may cease, but then to heaven
Will my pure affection soar ;
Yet, when freed from earthly leaven,
Dearest, then I'll love thee more.

J. G. LOCKHART.]

RISE up, rise up, down;

XARIFA.

[Music by MRS. ROBERT ARKWRIGHT. Xarifa, lay your golden cushion

Rise up, come to the window, and gaze with all the

town;

From gay guitar and violin the silver notes are flowing, And the lovely lute doth speak between the trumpet's lordly blowing;

And banners bright from lattice light are waving everywhere,

And the tall, tall plume of the bridegroom floats proudly in the air.

Rise up, rise up, Xarifa, lay your golden cushion down, Rise up, come to the window, and gaze with all the town.

Arise, arise, Xarifa, arise, I see Andalla's face,

He bends him to the people with a calm and princely

grace,

Through all the lands of Xeres, and banks of Guadalquiver,

Rode forth bridegroom so brave as he, so brave and lovely? never;

Yon tall plume waving o'er his brow of azure mix'd with white,

I guess 'twas wreathed by Zara, whom he will wed tonight.

Rise up, rise up, Xarifa, lay your golden cushion down, Rise up, come to the window, and gaze with all the

town.

The Zegri lady rose not, nor laid her golden cushion down,

Nor came she to the window to gaze with all the town ;

And tho' her eyes dwelt on her knee, in vain her fingers strove,

And tho' her needle press'd the silk, no flow'r Xarifa

wove;

One lovely rose-bud she had trac'd before the noise grew nigh,

That rose-bud now a tear effaced slow dropping from her eye.

"No, no," she cries, "bid me not rise, nor lay my golden cushion down,

To gaze upon Andalla with all the gazing town.”

What aileth thee, Xarifa, what makes thy lovely eyes look down?

Why stay ye from the window far, nor gaze with all the town?

Hark! hear the trumpets how they swell, and how the people cry.—

He stops at Zara's palace gates ;-why sit ye still, oh, why?

At Zara's gate stops Zara's mate: in him shall I dis

cover

The dark eyed youth pledg'd. me his truth, and was my lover.

"No, no," she cries, "I will not rise, nor lay my golden cushion down,

To gaze on false Andalla with all the gazing town."

DEAR NATIVE ISLE.

W. H. BELLAMY.]

[Music by W.EAVESTAFF.

DEAR native isle, the summer's sun is glowing
O'er thy wide vales in calm tranquillity;

From thy blue hills the cool fresh breeze is blowing,
Speaking to the soul of health and liberty.

Dear native isle,—

Dear to me,
Thou'it ever be,

My own native isle.

Dear native isle, the days of childhood glided,
In thy calm bosom peacefully away;
There when the storms of life have all subsided,
In safety moor'd my little bark shall stay.
Dear native isle,-

S. LOVER.]

Dear to me,
Thou'lt ever be,

My own native isle.

THE ARAB.

[Music by S. Lover.

THE noontide blaze on the desert fall,

As the traveller reached the wish'd-for well;
But vain was the hope that had cheered him on,
His hope in the desert-the waters were gone.

Fainting, he called on the Holy Name,
And swift o'er the desert an Arab came,
And with him he brought of the blessed thing,
That failed the poor traveller at the spring.
"Drink!" said the Arab-" tho' I must fast,
For half of my journey is not yet past,
'Tis long ere my home and my children I sée,
But the crystal treasure I'll share with thee."

"Nay," said the weary one, "let me die,
For thou hast even more need than I;

And children hast thou that are watching for thee,
And I am a lone one-none watch for me."

"Drink!" said the Arab; "my children shall see
Their father returning ;-fear not for me :-
For He who hath sent me to thee this day
Will watch over me on my desert way!"