Think the term of mirth and pleasure
Comes no more when once gone by,
Let us prize life's only treasure,
Blest with love and jollity.
And the bard all sorrows scorning,
Who, though old, still joins your ring,
With gay wreaths of flowers adorning
Crown him that he still may sing.
Youth, those moments so entrancing,
Spend in sports and pleasures gay,
Mirth and singing, love and dancing,
Like a shade thou'lt pass away!
STANZAS.
BY NELAIDINSKY.
He whose soul from sorrow dreary,
Weak and wretched, nought can save,
Who in sadness, sick and weary,
Hopes no refuge but the grave;
On his visage Pleasure beaming,
Ne'er shall shed her placid ray,
Till kind Fate, from wo redeeming,
Leads him to his latest day.
Thou this life preservest ever,
My distress and my delight!
And, though soul and body sever,
Still I'll live a spirit bright;
In my breast the heart that's kindled
Death's dread strength can ne'er destroy,
Sure the soul with thine that's mingled
Must immortal life enjoy!
That inspired by breath from heaven
Need not shrink at mortal doom,
To thee shall my vows be given
In this world and that to come.
My fond shade shall constant trace thee,
And attend in friendly guise,
Still surround thee, still embrace thee,
Catch thy thoughts, thy looks, thy sighs.
To divine its secret pondering,
Close to clasp thy soul 'twill brave,
And if chance shall find thee wandering
Heedless near my silent grave,
Even my ashes then shall tremble,
Thy approach relume their fire,
And that stone in dust shall crumble,
Covering what can ne'er expire!
ODE TO THE WARRIORS OF THE DON.
WRITTEN IN 1812, BY N.M. SHATROFF.
Sudden o'er Moscow rolls the dread thunder,
Fierce o'er his proud borders Don's torrents flow,
High swells each bosom, glowing with vengeance
'Gainst the base foe.