SONG FOR AN AIR BY HUMMEL.

Oh! if thou wilt not give thine heart,

Give back my own to me;

For if in thine I have no part,

Why should mine dwell with thee?[389]

Yet no! this mournful love of mine

I will not from me cast;

Let me but dream ’twill win me thine

By its deep truth at last!

Can aught so fond, so faithful, live

Through years without reply?

—Oh! if thy heart thou wilt not give,

Give me a thought, a sigh!

[389] The first verse of this song is a literal translation from the German.

SON OF THE DUKE OF ATHOLL, WHO DIED IN THE CAUSE AND LAMENTED BY THE PEOPLE OF GREECE.

“Time cannot teach forgetfulness,

When grief’s full heart is fed by fame.”—Byron.

Thou shouldst have slept beneath the stately pines,

And with th’ ancestral trophies of thy race;

Thou that hast found, where alien tombs and shrines

Speak of the past, a lonely dwelling-place!

Far from thy brethren hath thy couch been spread,

Thou bright young stranger midst the mighty dead!

Yet to thy name a noble rite was given,

Banner and dirge met proudly o’er thy grave,

Under that old and glorious Grecian heaven,

Which unto death so oft hath lit the brave:

And thy dust blends with mould heroic there,

With all that sanctifies the inspiring air.

Vain voice of fame! sad sound for those that weep!

For her, the mother, in whose bosom lone

Thy childhood dwells—whose thoughts a record keep

Of smiles departed and sweet accents gone;

Of all thine early grace and gentle worth—

A vernal promise, faded now from earth!

But a bright memory claims a proud regret—

A lofty sorrow finds its own deep springs

Of healing balm; and she hath treasures yet

Whose soul can number with love’s holy things,

A name like thine! Now, past all cloud or spot,

A gem is hers, laid up where change is not.