Thus in the stilly night,

Ere slumber's chain has bound me,
Sad Memory brings the light

Of other days around me.

When I remember all

The friends so link'd together
I've seen around me fall

Like leaves in wintry weather,
I feel like one

Who treads alone

Some banquet hall deserted,

Whose lights are fled

Whose garlands dead,

And all but he departed!

Thus in the stilly night

Ere slumber's chain has bound me,

Sad Memory brings the light

Of other days around me.

THE BOWER OF ROSES.

HERE'S a bower of roses by Bendemeer's stream,

THE

And the nightingale sings round it all the day long; In the time of my childhood 'twas like a sweet dream, To sit in the roses and hear the bird's song.

That bower and its music I never forget,

But oft when alone, in the bloom of the year, I think Is the nightingale singing there yet?

Are the roses still bright by the calm Bendemeer?

No, the roses soon withered that hung o'er the wave,

But some blossoms were gathered while freshly they shone, And a dew was distilled from their flowers that gave All the fragrance of summer when summer was gone.

Thus memory draws from delight ere it dies

An essence that breathes of it many a year;

Thus bright to my soul, as 'twas then to my eyes,
Is that bower on the banks of the calm Bendemeer!

FAL

Our voices keep tune and our oars keep time.

Soon as the woods on the shore look dim,

We'll sing at St. Anne's our parting hymn.

Row, brothers, row, the stream runs fast, The Rapids are near and the daylight's past.

Why should we yet our sail unfurl?
There is not a breath the blue wave to curl;
But when the wind blows off the shore,

Oh! sweetly we'll rest our weary oar.
Blow, breezes, blow, the stream runs fast,
The Rapids are near and the daylight's past.

Utawas' tide! this trembling moon

Shall see us float over thy surges soon.
Saint of this green isle! hear our prayers,
Oh, grant us cool heavens, and favouring airs.
Blow, breezes, blow, the stream runs fast,
The Rapids are near and the daylight's past.

TO THOSE WE'VE LEFT BEHIND US.

AS slow our ship her foamy track

Against the wind was cleaving,
Her trembling pennant still look'd back
To that dear isle 'twas leaving.
So loth we part from all we love,

From all the links that bind us;
So turn our hearts, as on we rove,
To those we've left behind us!

When, round the bowl, of vanish'd years
We talk with joyous seeming—
With smiles that might as well be tears,
So faint, so sad their beaming;
While memory brings us back again
Each early tie that twined us,
O, sweet's the cup that circles then
To those we've left behind us!

And when in other climes, we meet
Some isle or vale enchanting,
Where all looks flowery wild and sweet,
And nought but love is wanting;
We think how great had been our bliss
If Heaven had but assign'd us

To live and die in scenes like this,
With some we've left behind us!