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When Sorrow sat upon my brow,
In dark foreboding guise
The language of those eyes :
line of care, As if their brightest glow would melt,
To shed some comfort there 1
But thou art gone, my Annette May;
And I, alone, am left to mourn lOh, farewell, dearest Annette Mayo
My life, my all, is gone!
Some faint, low tone, at eventide,
upon When most I miss my gentle bride,
And breathes her name so dear.
“Sweet Annette May !" the streamlet sings,
As 'neath my feet it glides : “Sweet Annette May !” the welkin rings;
But, Oh! her form it hides :Then, fare the well, sweet Annette May !
Since thou art gone my life is drear lOh, fare thee well, sweet Annette May
My own, my ever dear!
CANST thou, O harp, repeat the tones
That wildly o'er the heart-strings sweepThat deep sad strain that through them moans When vain the eye may seek to weep
? Oh, if thou canst, my hand shall wake
Once more the chords that slumb’ring lie, And but this once thy silence break,
Then snap thy strings and near thee die!
Canst thou, O harp, my story tell
That strange sad tale, so full of woe ?
Another joy on earth to know.
To breathe my spirit's burning sigh,
And then I 'll hush thy chords and die !
Be true, O harp! my heart's deep core
Consigns to thee its latest tone;
Give out, give out its voice alone!
But truly bear my parting sigh;
I 'll snap thy wailing strings and die !
NOTE. This Song, set to Music by the highly-accomplished Pianiste, Miss Caroline O'Grady, is published by C. Jefferys, Music-seller, Soho-square.
By many tokens Love will speak,
Oft wear a strange disguise, To hide the secret he would keep
From vain or prying eyes: He'll wear a pilgrim's saintly weeds,
To bow at Beauty's shrine; Or, in the Tourney's knightly deeds,
Her bravest champion shine ! Oh, many tokens Love can find,
His loyalty to tell, And close around the heart to wind
The thraldom of his spell !
He'll dive beneath the deepest wave
For Ocean's rarest gem, And pierce old Plutus' golden cave,
To deck her diadem;