A BACCHANALIAN [1769?] WHAT is war and all its joys? What are arms and trophies won? What is love without the bowl? 'Tis a languor of the soul: Happiness is only thine! THOMAS CHATTERTON. A RED, RED ROSE. [1794.] O MY luve's like a red, red rose, As fair art thou, my bonnie lass, And I will luve thee ftill, my dear, Till a' the seas gang dry. Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear, And fare thee weel, my only luve, SONG. ROBERT BURNS. [1797.] HEAR, sweet spirit, hear the spell, And at evening evermore, Doleful males chant for thee, Miserere Domine! Hark! the cadence dies away On the quiet moonlight sea: The boatmen reft their oars and say, SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE. CHORAL SONG. [1817.] UP, up! ye dames, ye laffes gay! 'Tis you must tend the flocks this morn, For the shepherds must go With lance and bow To hunt the wolf in the woods to-day. Leave the hearth and leave the house Find grannam out a sunny seat, With babe and lambkin at her feet. With lance and bow To hunt the wolf in the woods to-day. SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE. SONG. [1806?] THERE'S not a look, a word of thine, My soul hath e'er forgot; There never yet a murmur fell From that beguiling tongue, Ah, that I could, at once, forget No; if this flighted heart must see Consumed in sweets away! THOMAS MOORE. [1806.] O NIGHTINGALE! thou surely art A creature of a “fiery heart:" These notes of thine, they pierce and pierce: Thou fingft as if the God of wine A song in mockery and despite Of fhades, and dews, and filent night; I heard a Stock-dove fing or say WILLIAM WORDSWORTH. TO THE LADY ANNE HAMILTON. [1811.] Too late I ftayed-forgive the crime, Unheeded flew the hours; How noiseless falls the foot of Time, What eye with clear account remarks Ah, who to sober measurement Time's happy swiftness brings, HON. WILLIAM ROBERT SPENCER. |