Sweet pines, and pears so newly pluck'd, I've grapes, too, that might tempt a saint, Ah! wherefore mourn the buds of spring, When autumn trees yield spoils like these? WINTER EVERGREENS. J. E. CARPENTER.] [Music by S. GLOVER. The roses long have passed their prime, So let us chime a Christmas rhyme, To hail the evergreen! Though bright may be the summer wreath, To mourn it were but folly, While friends delight to meet beneath The mistletoe and holly. Then circle round the ruddy blaze, And let but mirth be seen, We still can raise a song of praise To hail the evergreen! What though we rove the woods no more. When winter hoar has leaves in store That never fade away? Some love to sing the joys of spring, Then let us all each other aid, When friendship's wreath is seen, 'Tis never made of flowers that fade, But of the evergreen! THE SONG OF BLANCHE ALPEN.* C. JEFFERYS.] [Music by S. Glover. You speak of sunny skies to me, In sweet content my days are spent, You tell me oft of rivers bright, But have you seen our lakes by night, You speak of lands where hearts and hands But though I find true hearts and kind, Had you been rear'd by Alpine hills, "The young Italian spoke with rapture of the blue and bright skies of his native land: he talked with fervour of the balmy air and blooming flowers of Italy: he praised her gondolas-and the music wafted from them o'er the moonlit seas: but Blanche was little moved by his eloquence:-he paused; and she, in one of her own sweet Alpine airs, gave utterance to her thoughts in artless song."-Three Weeks in Switzerland. BLOW HIGH, BLOW LOW. C. DIBDIN.] [Music by C. DIBDIN. Blow high, blow low, let tempest tear, My heart, with thoughts of thee, my dear, Shall brave all danger, scorn all fear, To be once more Safe moored with thee. Aloft while mountains high we go, To think on thee; And this shall be my song: And on that night when all the crew O'er flowing cans of flip renew, And drink their sweethearts and their wives, I'll heave a sigh, and think on thee; And as the ship rolls on the sea, The burden of my song shall be, Blow high, blow low, &c. I AM A FRIAR OF ORDERS GREY. JOHN O'KEEFE.] I am a friar of orders grey, [Music by SHIELD, And down in the valleys I take my way; And why I'm so plump, the reason I tell,- Or knight of the shire, Lives half so well as a holy friar? After supper of heaven I dream, But that is fat pullet and clouted cream; With a dainty bit of a warden pie; A chirping cup is my matin song, And the vesper-bell is my bowl, ding dong. THE SONG OF THE ZEPHYR. C. JEFFERYS.] [Music by S. GLOVER. O'er the mountain, through the valley, That was fading fast away: And they blest the mountain breeze, Just before the hour of twilight, Their sweet voices to me sounded Like the echo of a song. O'er the mountain, &c. Up and down right merrily, All have felt my soothing power. WIFE, CHILDREN, AND FRIENDS. [The Hon. R. W. SPENCER.] One day when to Jove the black list was presented, In vain surly Pluto declared he was cheated, And justice divine could not compass its ends; The scheme of man's penance he swore was defeated, For earth becomes heaven with-wife, children, and friends. The day-spring of youth still unclouded with sorrow, Alone on itself for enjoyment depends; But drear is the twilight of age if it borrow No warmth from the smiles of-wife, children, and friends. Let the breath of renown ever freshen and nourish UNDER THE MISTLETOE BOUGH. J. E. CARPENTER.] [Music by S. GLOVER. Will nobody come to the mistletoe bough, I shan't have a kiss, and if so I shall miss |