STANZAS.
Oh! ask me not to sing to-night,
Oh! ask me not to sing to-night
Dejection chills my feeble powers,
I own thy halls of glittering light
Are festive as in former hours.
But when I last amid them moved,
I sung for friends beloved and dear,
Their smiles inspired, their lips approved,
Now all is changed—they are not here.
I gaze around—I view a throng,
The radiant slaves of pride and art.
Oh! can they prize my simple song,
The soft low breathings of the, heart?
Take back the lute, its tuneful string
Is moisten'd by a sorrowing tear,
To-night, I may not, cannot sing
The friends that love me are not here!
Ibid.