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 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! NOTE. The Music of this Song, composed by Miss M. Edmonds, Organist of St. Peter's, Southwark, as also that of "There's Time enough to weep!" can be had of Mrs. Blackman, Music-seller, 5, Bridge-street, Southwark. 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!-'tis all too soon to grieve, Or give thy breast to fears, That only blighting traces leaveThere'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- ANNETTE MAY: A SONG. AIR-" Mary Blane." I. 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 I But, fare thee well, sweet Annette May !— Since thou art gone my life is drear !Oh, fare thee well, sweet Annette MayMy own, my ever dear! |