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FAREWELL!—BUT WHENEVER YOU WELCOME THE HOUR.
Words by Moore.
Farewell! but whenever you weleome the hour,
That awakens the night-song of mirth in your bower,
Then think of the friend who once weleomed it too.
And forgot his own griefs to be happy with you.
His griefs may return—not a hope may remain
Of the few that have brighten'd his path-way of pain—
But he ne'er will forget the short vision that threw
Its enchantment around him, while ling'ring with you.
And still on that evening, when pleasure fills up
To the highest top sparkle each heart and each cup,
Where'er my path lies, be it gloomy or bright,
My soul, happy friends! shall be with you that night;—
Shall join in your revels, your sports, and your wiles,
And return to me, beaming all o'er with your smiles!—
Too bless'd if he tells me that, 'mid the gay cheer,
Some kind voice had murmur'd, "I wish he were here!"
Let fate do her worst! there are relics of joy,
Bright dreams of the past, which she cannot destroy,
Which come, in the night-time of sorrow and care,
And bring back the features that joy used to wear.
Long, long be my heart with such memories filled;
Like the vase in which roses have once been distill'd!
You may break, you may ruin the vase, if you will;
But the scent of the roses will hang round it still.
HERE'S A HEALTH, BONNIE SCOTLAND, TO THEE.
A Ballad, Sung by Madame Vestris, Miss Stephens, Miss Love, Miss Paton, and Mr Graham. The Poetry by W. H. Freeman, Esq. The Melody by Alexander Lee
Here's a health to fair Scotland, the land of the brave!
Here's a health to the bold and the free!
And as long as the thistle and heather shall wave,
Here's a health, bonnie Scotland, to thee!
