352 FUNERAL SONG. Long, through evil and through good, Of peace in battle twice achieved; And Europe from the yoke relieved, One who reverently, for thee, FINIS. TABLE OF FIRST LINES. A BEAUTIFUL and laughing thing Alone beneath the moon I roved An anxious, lingering, perilous voyage past And thou hast walk'd about-how strange a story A Pilgrim of the Harp was he Apollo has peep'd through the shutter Are other eyes beguiling, Love Art thou a thing of mortal birth Ask'st thou my home? my pathway wouldst thou know As sweeps the bark before the breeze As At midnight, in his guarded tent Page 308 297 310 272 118 186 167 243 150 98 5 70 286 young and pretty as the bird 236 162 354 TABLE OF FIRST LINES. Behold this ruin!-'twas a skull Bird of the heavens! whose matchless eye Bright, bright is the eye of the wild gazelle 'Britannia rules the waves' Clouds gather'd o'er the dark blue sky Page 200 55 189 209 94 87 217 195 114 267 80 111 335 306 53 46 161 Fare thee well, soul of sweet romance! farewell Father, whither art thou gone Fill the goblet again! for I never before Forget thee?"-if to dream by night Graceful "Phantom of delight!" Green wave the oak for ever o'er thy rest Harp of the winds! what music may compare He must be rich whom I could love How beautiful upon the wave Howe'er the sceptic scoffs, the poet sighs 333 10 154 273 31S 40 279 230 155 How may this little tablet feign I call upon thee in the night but they had pass'd away I came, If I had thought thou couldst have died I fill this cup to one made up of loveliness alone Page 197 331 275 128 319 148 23 I heard thy fate without a tear 316 I knew thee not! then wherefore gaze 245 I lookit east-I lookit west 318 I love my love in the morning 317 I love this glad season, as it yearly comes In a young lady's heart once a secret was lurking I speak not, I trace not, I breathe not thy name Is she not beautiful, although so pale 356 TABLE OF FIRST LINES. Page It was a lonely hamlet, where the trees 344 215 Long years have pass'd since last I stray'd 183 321 Magnificent creature! so stately and bright Memorial frail of youthful years Methinks it is good to be here 179 'Mid shouts that hail'd her from the shore My mother's grave, my mother's grave My mother's voice! how oft doth creep 14 Night is the time for rest 7 No circling hills may sweeping form 248 Not a drum was heard,-not a funeral note O glorious is that morning sky Oh! gentle shade,-reproach me not Oh! how could fancy crown with thee 143 104 322 $30 133 146 |