SONG.

I.

Why bid me sweep the charmed strings,

To breathe, amidst the cold and strange, Those wild, unutterable things

That through the minstrel's fancy range? For I have nought of earth to sing

That wakens an unsadden'd lay;
And, if I soar on Fancy's wing,
Too far, too far I'm borne away !

Oh, ask me not to sing !

II.

Why bid me wake those magic chords

I cannot at my pleasure still
Their breath no sweeter strain affords

But Love too wildly makes them thrill ? My spirit's voice dwells deeply there,

Amid the strings attuned to thee ! But I have vow'd that none shall share

With thee its mystic melody

Then, ask me not to sing !

SONG.

I.

SWEET maiden, why upon thy lip

That faint and fleeting smile? Oh, let not Care its roses strip

Of half their ruby wile ! I would not have thy youthful breast

Enshrine a sorrow deep; Then, banish such a cheerless guest

There's time enough to weep!

II.

With smiles, undimm'd by aught of care,

I'd have thee deck thy face;
And on thy brow, so young, so fair,

No mournful shadow trace;
For-think l-'tis all too soon to grieve,

Or give thy breast to fears,
That only blighting traces leave

There's time enough for tears !

III.

What, though some faithless hearts there be,

Believe that some are true;
Though life is not a changeless sea,

Its fiercest storms are few!-
O maiden, list! the Minstrel's song

Its tones are true and deep,
They tell thee, Smiles to youth belong-

There's time enough to weep!

As softly breathes the summer wind

Around some rocky cell, An echo in my breast to find

Her gentle accents fell: Her footfall, like a dream, would steal;

Her glance make light around; And, Oh! her wild laugh's thrilling peal

Was music's sweetest sound But, fare thee well, sweet Annette May !

Since thou art gone my life is drear ! Oh, fare thee well, sweet Annette May

My own, my ever dear /