AND ARE THE MOMENTS PAST. BY JOHN NEWLAND MAFFIT. AND are the moments past And must we part at last, To weep alone? Must friendship's wreath be torn? The withered garland lie Like relics in an urn, And fond ones sigh? Must hearts long blest and true Be severed now? And all we cherished too To sorrow bow? Has parting dimmed the ray That shone in friendship's sky, As evening shades the day The joyous hours are fled Like spring's young flowers! The beautiful are dead In life's gay bowers! No more, in union sweet, Our hearts will here agree, We never more may meet In harmony! Ah, shall we meet no more Along this dreary shore We may not meet below, But will in realms above; And there forever know The friends we love! POLAND AND LIBERTY. BY MISS LESLIE. HAIL to the eagle's flight of glory, March on, march on, Sarmatia's sons, Hark! from the desert's farthest regions They know not all that patriots dare. In soul, at least, we're free: Then wealth was lavished without measure Oh! noble race-still, still we cherish Who came to aid us ere we won The glorious wreath that ne'er shall perish. Advance, advance the flags The standards of the free Look down, look down, Kosciusko's shade, A SERENADE. BY LUCY HOOPER. OH wake thee, lady, wake- But at night, but at night, On the quiet sea. When the moon is softly beaming As I come to thee, And the jasmine buds are gleaming, Wake thee, love, for me. As a holy torch that shineth, Then wake thee, lady mine, And keep thy tryst to-night, While the moon is on the sea, And the holy stars are bright. A FESTAL SONG. BY W. H. C. HOSMER. FILL high, fill high, with good old wine, And wake the voice of song, Fill high, fill high, with good old wine, The foam-bells on the ruby tide That graybeard Time hath wings- Ere friend will darkly follow friend Fill high, fill high, with good old wine, |