COME list to my song, it is meant, love, for thee, And a fairer and fonder one never could know The truth that it whispers in accents of glee,

As it praises thy rose-lips and bosom of snow! O list, then, sweet lady! nor veil with a scorn Those features Adonis might stoop to admire, Those smiles which outrival the dawning of morn, Those eyes that are beaming love's tenderest fire.

And this is my song: I have come, love, for thee; I have wander❜d afar from my own native home, But maiden so lovely I never could see

In the happiest spots I have happen'd to roam. Then give me thy hand, love, so gentle and small, Thy heart that's encircl'd with feelings divine; O breathe but one sigh from love's soft palace-hall; O grant one kind glance from affection's pure shrine!

THE QUEEN OF MERRY ENGLAND.
Music by D. Lee. London: Turner.
THE Queen of merry England,
What Queen so lov'd as she;
Her gentle mandate rules the land,
Her might commands the sea.
She reigns in youth and beauty

O'er an empire of the free;
And lady charms and warrior arms,
Shall ever round her be.
The Queen of merry England,

What Queen so lov'd as she;
Her gentle mandate rules the land;
Her might commands the sea!

The Queen of merry England,
The Queen of merry England,
The Queen of merry England,
What Queen so lov'd as she.

Now peace hath wav'd her sceptre

Along our native strand,
And war, that horrid spectre
Waves not his blood-red hand.
Her bulwarks on the ocean
Are mann'd by heroes brave,
Who in war's wild commotion,
Can guide them o'er the wave.
The Queen of merry England,

What Queen so lov'd as she;
Her gentle mandate rules the land;
Her might commands the sea!

The Queen of merry England,
The Queen of merry England,
The Queen of merry England,
What Queen so lov'd as she.

So, long live Queen Victoria,

Be health and pleasure thine; May virtue, truth, and happiness,

Around thy brow entwine. The sun of peace and plenitude

Upon thy people shine;

And power, and love, and unity,
In one bright band combine.
The Queen of merry England,

What Queen so lov'd as she;
Her gentle mandate rules the land;
Her might commands the sea!

The Queen of merry England,
Tho Queen of merry England,
The Queen of merry England,
What Queen so lov'd as she.

LOVE'S SIMILE.

A DEWDROP lay

In a rosebud gay,

And a little red robin sat chirping nigh;

O! fain would it sip

Frae the rosebud's lip,

For his breast was warm, and his throat was dry. Round and round did he hop

In the faith it would drop:

His little eye twinkled to gaze on the gem,
Till a bee, in its flight,

On the blossom did light,

And scatter'd the dew o'er its beckoning stem.

And such is true love, That spell from above!

Which we in our happiness fain would caress;
But trembling before
The maid we adore,

The soul-soften'd passion we cannot confess;
And some one more bold,
With bosom more cold,

Bereaves us of that which we wish to obtain;
And scatter'd away

Are the smiles of the gay,

And maiden and lover but languish in vain.

THE SUN.

Music by A. Park.

A GLORIOUS orb is the sun!

Who shall describe his flame? Bright as when first from chaos sprung, When all the new-born planets sung,

And gloom hid his head in shame!
His throne, the empyrean sky-

His robes, the red clouds furl'd;
The quenchless light of his eye
Is the soul of each mystic world.
A glorious orb is the sun!

Lo! in the crimson west,

A molten sea lies there, Empurpling deep the vapoury breast Of travell'd clouds that calmly rest On the wings of the dreaming air! Far, far in the east away

Those worlds their lamps may trimWhat were their gloom, if they

Receiv'd not their light from him?

A glorious orb is the sun!

O, with his rays to rise!

One dazzling day for me

In his chariot through the star-deck'd skies,

Where bright world after world flies

In endless regions free!

Away to lands unknown,

Where mortal ne'er hath been;

Where sin hath never sown

Those seeds which grow so green.

A glorious orb is the sun!

O COME, SWEET MAID.

Music by Auber.

O COME, Sweet maid, with me,

Where Lugar's stream is flowing,
While the evening sun its race hath run,
And the cloud his crimson showing!
O come, &c.

My home is 'mong the hills, love!
Where the zephyrs revel free;

Two merry hearts shall there unite in glee.
Then come, sweet maid, with me,

Where Lugar's stream is flowing, While the evening sun its race hath run, And the cloud his crimson showing.

All day we shall wander forth

Where the heather-bells are growing,
O'er the mountain-side, with stately pride,
While the summer sun is glowing;
All day, &c.

I'll never dream of care, love!
Though long the day should be,

For dear my love shall be with thee.
Then come, sweet maid, with me,

Where Lugar's stream is flowing, While the evening sun its race hath run, And the cloud his crimson showing.

You know that the fool in his love may cool Ere a short year rolls away;

And then, O alack! he may look as black

As a cold December day!

The best of men I wouldn't trust when
With care they're troubled sore;
Through the window, they say, love leaps away
When poverty calls at the door.

So at my time of life I would not take a wife,
Unless she had plenty of gold;

For I've liv'd so long single that I still wish
to mingle

With my bachelor friends of old.

Yet for all I've said I would not wed
A girl for wealth alone,

I'd take half price, nor be too nice,

With her whose heart 's mine own; Although I fix my price at six

Poor hundred pounds a-year,
I'd rather agree to take the three
With a girl I love more dear!

So at my time of life I would not take a wife,
Unless she had plenty of gold;

For I've liv'd so long single that I still wish
to mingle

With my bachelor friends of old.

AT MY TIME OF LIFE.

Music by W. H. Montgomery.

AT my time of life I would not take a wife,
Unless she had plenty of gold;

For I've liv'd so long single that I still wish to mingle

With my bachelor friends of old!

What signifies your brilliant eyes

To such a man as me!

If I must be sold, it must be for gold,

Or I'd rather far be free.

So at my time of life I would not take a wife,
Unless she had plenty of gold;

For I've liv'd so long single that I still wish
to mingle

With my bachelor friends of old.

THE QUEEN'S SONG.

A GALLANT bark, with pennon free,
Swept o'er the Thames' proud waves afar,
And on the sun-lit German sea,

Seem'd waning like the morning star!
Yet as she swept the watery way,
And left Old England's towers behind,
A syren voice, subdued and gay,

Thus echoed on the wandering wind!

"Farewell! my lov'd, my natal land!
This short adieu my thoughts inspire;
I go to view the mountains grand
Where Ossian tun'd his Celtic lyre-
Where dwelt my ancestors of old,

By rocky glen and gushing rill;
For oh! what tales of might are told,
Where blooms brave Scotia's thistle still.