THE BROKEN VOW. BY ALLAN CUNNINGHAM, ESQ. I HAVE a lock of raven hair, A gold ring, and a glove; They are the tokens of a fair,A fair and faithless love. My kisses, yet, are on her lips, The blush scarce from her brow; Her witching tongue seems yet to speak The false and joyless vow. She sat, and, with her lily hand, With words both mild and meek: Oh! soon my sick and slighted heart Maun scorn her, or maun break! Her homely hose are cast aside, She wears a mantle rich and rare, And gold upon her gown. The song I love no more she sings, By river-bank and grove; Nor 'neath the dewy star-light comes, To meet her own true love. Go, show those gems and links of gold, Go, dance till all those diamonds gleam, Go, show thy bowers and gilded halls, Then kneel, and show thy heart to God,— THE MOURNER. BY THE REV. THOMAS DALE, "Grief for the dead not Virtue can reprove." I STOOD beside the parting bed Of all I ever loved below; I gazed until the soul was fled From earthly pangs, and earthly woe:Then the first tears were felt to flow Which thou, sweet angel! didst not share; Then, first, my heart was doomed to know The loneliness of cold despair! Till then, though many a grief were mine, That well might wring the sternest breast,With loveliness and love like thine, I was not could not be-unblest: For when, with causeless wrongs opprest, Now am I left to beat, alone, A shattered bark on life's rough sea;— THIS wakes the pang that cannot die; As none, but those who once were free, Feel the full weight of slavery! But oh! I may not thus repine,— Guilt mingles with the vain regret; And, though the gem that once was mine For all that wrongs or wounds below. My griefs remain-but thine are o'er! I weep-but thou canst mourn no more! I still am bound-but thou art free! My joy was ever bliss to thee, WELSH MELODY. AIR-MORFA RHUDDLAN*. AWAY to thy forest, thou down-stooping raven ! I heard, in my slumbers, your harps wailing lowly, The sword of the Briton should ever deceive; In the year 795, a dreadful battle was fought, in the Marsh of Rhuddlan, betwixt the Welsh, under their leader Caradoc, and the Saxon forces, under Offa, king of Mercia. The Welsh were routed, their commanders slain, and a cruel and indiscriminate massacre took place, by order of the Saxon prince. : |