There is an innate feeling clings, A fondness for familiar things, THE CAPTIVE KNIGHT. 'Twas a trumpet's pealing sound! And the Knight look'd down from the Paynim's tower, And I see my brethren's lances gleam, And their pennons wave by the mountain stream, And I look on a torrent sweeping by, And an eagle rushing to the sky, And a host to its battle plain. 'Must I pine in my fetters here ? With the wild wave's foam, and the free bird's flight. Cease awhile, clarion! clarion wild and shrill, "They are gone! they have all passed by! They in whose wars I had borne my part- ENTIMENTAL SONGS. ave left me here to die! rion! clarion pour thy blast! captive's dream of hope is past." "er hill and dell inds stealing, convent bell, lly pealing; k! it seems to say, these sounds away, est joys decay, new their feeling.' Far, far, &c. agh the charmed air scending, chaunted prayer, y blending; k! it seems to say, allen warrior's tomb, our mortal ties, SWEETLY ON THE WINGS OF MORNING. SWEETLY on the wings of morning, Peace in ev'ry note is breathing, Silv'ry mists the lake enwreathing Flames enveloping, Crags with carnage reeking; Shots rebounding, Shall bear the kine's melodious warning EVENING SONG TO THE VIRGIN AT SEA. AVE sanctissima, We lift our souls to thee, Ora pro nobis, Tis night-fall on the sea. Watch us while shadows lie, Thou that hast look'd on death, Whisper of heaven to faith, Sweet mother, sweet mother hear. FAREWELL-farewell to thee, Araby's daughter! Shall maids and their lovers remember the doom Of her who lies sleeping among the Pearl Islands, With nought but the sea-star to light up her tomb. And still when the merry date season is burning, At sunset will weep when thy story is told. The young village maid, when with flowers she dresses Farewell-be it ours to embellish thy pillow With every thing beauteous that grows in the deep; Each flower of the rock, and each gem of the billow, Shall sweeten thy bed and illumine thy sleep. Around thee shall glisten the loveliest amber That ever the sorrowing sea bird has wept; We'll dive where the gardens of coral lie darkling; We'll seek where the sands of the Caspian are sparkling, And gather their gold to strew over thy bed. Farewell farewell-until Pity's sweet fountain Is lost in the hearts of the fair and the brave, They'll weep for the chieftain who died on that mountain; They'll weep for the maiden who sleeps in this wave. |