And could I hope I had a claim
On thee in such a rapturous hour?
Oh! that, indeed, I'd own were fame.
The saving ark of friendship's power.
Or that, in future years, thy babes
Should o'er this frail memorial bend,
(For first affection rarely fades!)
And boast that I was once the friend
Whose wit, or worth, possess'd a charm,
By Parents loved, and them caress'd.
That spell would every sorrow calm,
And bid my anxious spirit rest!
HERE IN OUR FAIRY BOWERS WE DWELL.
A GLEE.
Sung by Messrs. GOULDEN, PYNE, and NELSON.—Composed by
Mr. ROOKE.
Here, in our fairy bowers, we dwell,
Women our idol, life's best treasure!
Echo enchanted joys to tell,
Our feast of laugh, of love, and pleasure.
Say, is not this then bliss divine,
Beauty's smiles and rosy wine?
Eternal mirth and sunshine reign,
For grief we cannot find the leisure;
Night's social gods have banish'd pain,
Morn lights us to increasing pleasure.
Say, is not this then bliss divine,
Beauty's smiles and rosy wine?
Here in our fairy bowers, &c.
HENRY AND ELIZA.
O'er the wide heath now moon-tide horrors hung,
And night's dark pencil dimm'd the tints of spring;
The boding minstrel now harsh omens sung,
And the bat spread his dark nocturnal wing.