A SERENADE.
SET TO MUSIC BY THE CHEVALIER NEUKOMM. A wake!—The starry midnight Hour Hangs charmed, and pauseth in its flight: In its own sweetness sleeps the flower; And the doves lie hushed in deep delight! Awake! Awake! Look forth, my love, for Love’s sweet sake! Awake!—Soft dews will soon arise From daisied mead, and thorny brake; Then, Sweet, uncloud those eastern eyes, And like the tender morning break! Awake! Awake! Dawn forth, my love, for Love’s sweet sake! Awake!—Within the musk-rose bower I watch, pale flower of love, for thee; Ah, come, and shew the starry Hour What wealth of love thou hid’st from me! Awake! Awake! Shew all thy love, for Love’s sweet sake! Awake!—Ne’er heed, though listening Night Steal music from thy silver voice: Uncloud thy beauty, rare and bright, And bid the world and me rejoice! Awake! Awake! She comes,—at last, for Love’s sweet sake!

KING DEATH.
SET TO MUSIC BY THE CHEVALIER NEUKOMM. K ing Death was a rare old fellow! He sate where no sun could shine; And he lifted his hand so yellow, And poured out his coal-black wine. Hurrah! for the coal-black Wine! There came to him many a Maiden, Whose eyes had forgot to shine; And Widows, with grief o’erladen, For a draught of his sleepy wine. Hurrah! for the coal-black Wine! The Scholar left all his learning; The Poet his fancied woes; And the Beauty her bloom returning, As the beads of the black wine rose. Hurrah! for the coal-black Wine! All came to the royal old fellow, Who laughed till his eyes dropped brine, As he gave them his hand so yellow, And pledged them in Death’s black wine. Hurrah!—Hurrah! Hurrah! for the coal-black Wine!
SIT DOWN, SAD SOUL. S it down, sad soul, and count The moments flying: Come,—tell the sweet amount That ’s lost by sighing! How many smiles?—a score? Then laugh, and count no more; For day is dying! Lie down, sad soul, and sleep, And no more measure The flight of Time, nor weep The loss of leisure; But here, by this lone stream, Lie down with us, and dream Of starry treasure! We dream: do thou the same: We love—for ever: We laugh; yet few we shame, The gentle, never. Stay, then, till Sorrow dies; Then—hope and happy skies Are thine for ever!
A DRINKING SONG. D rink, and fill the night with mirth! Let us have a mighty measure, Till we quite forget the earth, And soar into the world of pleasure. Drink, and let a health go round, (’T is the drinker’s noble duty,) To the eyes that shine and wound, To the mouths that bud in beauty! Here ’s to Helen! Why, ah! why Doth she fly from my pursuing? Here ’s to Marian, cold and shy! May she warm before thy wooing! Here ’s to Janet! I ’ve been e’er, Boy and man, her staunch defender, Always sworn that she was fair, Always known that she was tender! Fill the deep-mouthed glasses high! Let them with the champagne tremble, Like the loose wrack in the sky, When the four wild winds assemble! Here ’s to all the love on earth, (Love, the young man’s, wise man’s treasure!) Drink, and fill your throats with mirth! Drink, and drown the world in pleasure!
PEACE! WHAT DO TEARS AVAIL? P eace! what can tears avail? She lies all dumb and pale, And from her eye, The spirit of lovely life is fading, And she must die! Why looks the lover wroth? the friend upbraiding? Reply, reply! Hath she not dwelt too long ’Midst pain, and grief, and wrong? Then, why not die? Why suffer again her doom of sorrow, And hopeless lie? Why nurse the trembling dream until to-morrow? Reply, reply! Death! Take her to thine arms, In all her stainless charms, And with her fly To heavenly haunts, where, clad in brightness, The Angels lie! Wilt bear her there, O Death! in all her whiteness? Reply,—reply!
THE SEA.
SET TO MUSIC BY THE CHEVALIER NEUKOMM. T he Sea! the Sea! the open Sea! The blue, the fresh, the ever free! Without a mark, without a bound, It runneth the earth’s wide regions ’round; It plays with the clouds; it mocks the skies; Or like a cradled creature lies. I ’m on the Sea! I ’m on the Sea! I am where I would ever be; With the blue above, and the blue below, And silence wheresoe’er I go; If a storm should come and awake the deep, What matter? I shall ride and sleep. I love (oh! how I love) to ride On the fierce foaming bursting tide, When every mad wave drowns the moon, Or whistles aloft his tempest tune, And tells how goeth the world below, And why the south-west blasts do blow. I never was on the dull tame shore, But I loved the great Sea more and more, And backwards flew to her billowy breast, Like a bird that seeketh its mother’s nest; And a mother she was, and is to me; For I was born on the open Sea! The waves were white, and red the morn, In the noisy hour when I was born; And the whale it whistled, the porpoise rolled, And the dolphins bared their backs of gold; And never was heard such an outcry wild As welcomed to life the Ocean-child! I ’ve lived since then, in calm and strife, Full fifty summers a sailor’s life, With wealth to spend and a power to range, But never have sought, nor sighed for change; And Death, whenever he come to me, Shall come on the wild unbounded Sea!