Its pearls are more precious than those they find For the dew-drops, love, might serve to bind Oh come with me, love, I'm seeking Haste, or the spell will be missing, For soon the warm sun will be kissing That e'en at the touch of the sunbeam, 'tis said, Oh come with me, love, I'm seeking J. E. CARPENTER.] ROME. [Music by E. J. LODER. I STOOD in Rome's deserted streets, A voice came forth-that seemed to speak The spirits of the heroes were Awakened by the strain; The living dead around me stood, Methought a thousand torches blazed And lit th' imperial dome, While myriad forms their voices raised I stood in Rome's deserted walls! THEY TALK OF DALES. · THEY talk of dales and hills in Wales, But there's a cot within one spot There Gwineth dwelt when Owen felt For look ye now, 'tis he knows how They talk of dales, &c. The maid was proud, a splendid crowd While Owen's wealth was heart and health, But Gwineth frown'd until she found The power of Cupid's dart, For look ye now, he best knows how To touch the hardest heart. They talk of dales, &c. Report had told that Gwineth's gold Thus Gwineth found tho' fortune frown'd The power of Cupid's dart, Who look ye now, alone knows how They talk of dales, &c. LOVELY NIGHT. FOUR PART SONG. LOVELY night, oh! lovely night, Holy night, oh! holy night, EVELEEN'S BOWER. [T. MOORE.] OH! weep for the hour, The lord of the valley with false vows came; From the heavens that night, And wept behind the clouds o'er the maiden's shame. The clouds past soon From the chaste cold moon, And heaven smil'd again with her vestal flame; When the clouds shall pass away, Which that dark hour left upon Eveleen's fame. The white snow lay Where the lord of the valley cross'd over the moor On the white snow's tint, Showed the track of his footstep to Eveleen's door. Ev'ry trace on the path where the false lord came; Which alone can remove That stain upon the snow of fair Eveleen s fame. SAMUEL LOVER.] LISTEN. [Music by S. LOVER. How sweet 'tis to listen when some one may tell How sweet 'tis to listen when soft music floats How sweet, but how fatal it may be to listen! Sweet, sweet 'tis to listen! How sweet 'tis to listen, with too willing ear, To words that we wish for, yet tremble to hear, To which 'No' would be cruel, and 'Yes' would be weak, And an answer is not on the lip, but the cheek; While in eloquent pauses the eyes brightly glisten,-Take care what you say, and take care how you listen. Take care how you listen--take care! THE ENCHANTED LAKE. J. E. CARPENTER.] [Music by F. N. CROUCH. ["There is in the west of Ireland a lake called the Enchanted Lake,' whose depths are the supposed habitations of the good people.' In this lake many young men had at various times been drowned, and what made the circumstance more remarkable was that their bodies were never found. "People at length wondered at this, and at last it was supposed that the young men were not drowned at all, but that they were taken by the fairies and kept there for sweetheartsat any rate it was believed they were endowed with perpetual youth, and the place still bears the name of the Enchanted Lake."-Irish Legends. OH! linger not by that gloomy shore, The treasures beneath it come back no more, Norah! thy Dennis, young and brave, |