THE PILGRIM.

AIR--"Rousseau's Dream."

I.

COME to my heart, though ye come with sadness, Thoughts of happy days gone by,

Days that tell of youthful gladness,

Ere I yet had learned to sigh.

Years have flown, and long a stranger,
Far from home and love I stray;

Braving every wo and danger

That beset a pilgrim's way.

II.

Still, as years are onward rolling,

Come, my childhood's jocund hours,

Often come, this heart consoling,

When the storm of sorrow lowers;

Come, while now with fond emotion
On my early love I call-

Oh! her name, on life's wild ocean,
Is my star-my hope-my all!

III.

Grant, kind Heaven, this only blessing,
Take beside all earth can give;
Through life's scene, howe'er distressing,
In her smile, O let me live.
Downward to the tomb descending,
Hand in hand, O may we go;
From the tomb to heaven ascending,
Hand in hand, leave all below!

CHORUS. Beauty o'er the sky is beaming,

Verdure paints the plain ;

Joy on every face is gleaming

O'er the rural train.

EVENING WELCOME.

Nature bids thee welcome, Mary,

To her purest joy;

Hark! the birds are singing, Mary,

Nature's song of joy.

CHORUS. Beauty o'er, &c.

Wandering through the greenwood, Mary,

We will spend the day,

And at evening, dearest Mary,
Dance the hours away.

CHORUS. Beauty o'er the sky is beaming,
Verdure paints the plain;

Joy on every face is gleaming
O'er the rural train.

87

WILLKOMMEN! O SELIGER ABEND.

O EVENING, WELCOME!

A FAVORITE GERMAN SONG.

I.

WILLKOMMEN! O seliger Abend,
Dem Hurzen das froh dich geniest,
Du bist so erquickend, so labend,

Drum sey mir recht herzlick gegrüst.

II.

Druckt mir eine reitzende Schöne
Im traulichen Dunkel, die Hand;
Kein, Wieland! beschreibet die Scene-
Sie ist mit den Himmel werrandt.

III.

Willkommen, O Abend voll milde !

Du schenkst dem Eermudeten Ruh;
Versetz'st uns in Edens-Gefilde,
Und lächelst uns Seligkeit zu!

TRANSLATION,

ADAPTED TO THE RHYTHM OF THE ORIGINAL.

I.

O EVENING! how welcome thy holy, Thy sweet, peaceful hour to my heart! So cheerful, yet pure, that e'en folly Must feel the rich blessing thou art.

II.

While darkness is gathering round us,
The soft hand of love toucheth mine;
No poet the bliss which hath bound us
May sing 'tis of heaven, divine!

III.

All welcome thy mildness, O Even!
For toil thou hast rose-balm of rest;

Thy words breathe of Eden-of heaven-
Thy smiles make our home with the blest.