All over the ocean, far from land,

When the storm-king rises, dark and grand,
The mariner sees the petrel meet

The fathomless waves with steady feet,
And a tireless wing, and a dauntless breast,
Without a home or a hope of rest.

So, 'mid the contest and toil of life,
My soul! when the billows of rage and strife
Are tossing high, and the heavenly blue
Is shrouded by vapours of sombre hue-
Like the petrel, wheeling o'er foam and spray,
Onward and upward pursue thy way!

SWEET WOMAN'S PITYING TEAR.

J. W. LAKE.]

[Music by ALEXANDER LEE.

WHATE'ER our lot in life may prove,
Let fortune smile or frown,
Oh! ne'er forget that woman's love
Is honour, wealth, renown!

When hopes like fading leaves depart,
She shines an angel fair,

For every pang that rends the heart
Sweet woman has a tear.

The world it is a bitter one,
And govern'd still by gold;
But love in woman's breast begun,
Clings like the ivy's fold.

Her heart is pity's pure domain,
Her home an Eden fair;
For every human grief and pain
Sweet woman has a tear.

I'VE WATCHED FOR THEE.

H. DEVAL.]

[Music by H. DEVAL.
I'VE watch'd for thee, my ain kind Jamie,
Why dost from thy Lilian stay?
I list for thy dear voice, my Jamie,
But list in vain for thy sweet lay;
Oh, haste and cheer my drooping heart,
With thee no danger can I fear;
With thee once more I ne'er will part,
For thou to me alone art dear.

Ah, linger not, my ain kind Jamie,
Let this heart once more rejoice;
I'll gladly share thy dangers, Jamie,
Cheered by love's inspiring voice;
When roving through the blooming heather,
'Neath the sunny skies of heaven,
And passing through life's path together,
From our hearts all care is driven.

AS A BEAM O'ER THE FACE OF
THE WATERS.

T. MOORE.]

[Air-" The young man's dream." As a beam o'er the face of the waters may glow, While the tide runs in darkness and coldness below, So the cheek may be ting'd with a warm sunny smile, Though the cold heart to ruin runs darkly the while. One fatal remembrance, one sorrow that throws Its bleak shade alike o'er our joys and our woes, To which life nothing darker or brighter can bring, For which joy has no balm and affliction no sting! Oh! this thought in the midst of enjoyment will stay, Like a dead, leafless branch in the summer's bright

ray;

The beams of the warm sun play round it in vain,
It may smile in its light, but it blooms not again.

HOPE FOR THE BEST!

EDWIN RANSFord.]

[Music by E. RANSFORD. THE uphill of life we must all of us tread,

Encount'ring the rough and the smooth by the way, But while we act right we have little to dread,

Our path will be bright and as clear as noonday. 'Tis fruitless to think it will be without pain,

That all will be pleasure on which we can rest; Still let us not over our trials complain,

But each do his duty, and hope for the best! The bitters and sweets we in turn ever taste, While passing the few years allotted to man; Yet why should we grieve?-to do good let us hasteTo help one another do all that we can. Misfortune may come to the best of us here,

But let us bear up when we're put to the test, And should sorrow follow and cause us to fear, Let each do his duty, and hope for the best!

We all must expect with reverses to meet,

Sometimes with a foe-and sometimes with a friend, What matters, so long as our journey is sweet, And leads to a bright and a glorious end? It is not all sunshine we want here below, But various changes to give life a zest ; Then let us look forward as onward we go, Let each do his duty, and hope for the best!

GO, GENTLE BREEZE.

ROUND.

Go, gentle breeze, to yon verdant grove,
Where Delia mourns the absence of her love;
Ye purling streams, O sweetly glide along,
Ye pretty warblers, tune your cheerful song;
Ye rural swains, your powerful charms display,
And soothe my Delia while her love's away.

J. H. JEWEL.]

THE GREEK SLAVE.

[Music by S. W. NEW.
IN my own dearest land, in my childhood's loved home,
Where my footsteps were free as the wind,
My life's early days had their joys and their cares,
But no fetters bound hand, heart, or mind.
I was free as the wild bird that wings through the sky,
Ever sought for and loved by the brave;
But my mem'ry recalls, recalls with a sigh
Those days-now alas! I'm a Slave.

I sigh for my home, where the tyrant hath been
And destroyed the fair vision it wore ;

I sigh for my home and the fanes of my sires,
And the faith that they kindled of yore.

Yet Hope, sweet enchantress, points onwards and says,

Thy sorrows will end with the grave,

And thy spirit thus freed, thus freed from earth's ties, Shall give freedom and rest to the slave.

THE LIGHT FROM LOVING EYES.

GEORGE HODDER.]

[Music by M. W. BALFE.

THE light from loving eyes!

How brightly it beameth,
When thoughts of gloom arise,

The nearer it seemeth.

As onward we wander,

Thro' scenes that are drear,

That light is the beacon
Our spirits to cheer.

Tho' fortune may low'r,
And hearts be forsaken,
We hail the sweet pow'r,
New joys to awaken.

The light froin loving eyes!
This truth doth engender,
That where its radiance dies,
Bright hopes we surrender.
When hearts are repining,
The charm still appears,
Through clouds gladly shining,
And calming our fears.

O'er life's darken'd stream,
May truth still endeavour
To make that light gleam
Our loadstar for ever!

THE LAMPLIGHTER.

[CHARLES DIBDIN.]

I'M jolly Dick the lamplighter,
They say the sun's my dad,
And truly I believe it, sir,
For I'm a pretty lad;
Father and I the world do light,
And make it look so gay,
The difference is, I lights by night,
And father lights by day.

But father's not the likes of I,

For knowing life and fun,

For I queer tricks and fancy spy,

Folks never show the sun;

Rogues, owls and bats, can't bear the light,
I've heard your wise ones say,
And so, d'ye mind, I sees at night,

Things never seen by day.

At night men lay aside all art,
As quite a useless task,

And many a face, and many a heart
Will then pull off the mask;