But give the cock a blow ANONYMOUS (Chinese). Translation THE PARTING OF ROMEO AND JULIET. JULIET. Wilt thou be gone? it is not yet near day: It was the nightingale, and not the lark, ROMEO. It was the lark, the herald of the morn, No nightingale: look, love, what envious streaks Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east : Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops. I must be gone and live, or stay and die. It is some meteor, that the sun exhales, I am content, so thou wilt have it so. Some say, the lark and loathed toad change LOCHABER NO MORE. BYRON. FAREWELL to Lochaber! and farewell, my Jean, Where heartsome with thee I hae mony day been! For Lochaber no more, Lochaber no more, We'll maybe return to Lochaber no more! These tears that I shed they are a' for my dear, And no for the dangers attending on war, Though borne on rough seas to a far bloody shore, Maybe to return to Lochaber no more. Though hurricanes rise, and rise every wind, They'll ne'er make a tempest like that in my mind; Though loudest of thunder on louder waves roar, That's naething like leaving my love on the shore. To leave thee behind me my heart is sair pained; By ease that's inglorious no fame can be gained; And beauty and love's the reward of the brave, And I must deserve it before I can crave. Then glory, my Jeany, maun plead my excuse; ALLAN RAMSAY. MY OLD KENTUCKY HOME. NEGRO SONG. THE sun shines bright in our old Kentucky home; CHORUS. Weep no more, my lady; O, weep no more to-day! We'll sing one song for my old Kentucky home, For our old Kentucky home far away. They hunt no more for the possum and the coon, The head must bow, and the back will have to bend, A few more days, and the troubles all will end, A few more days till we totter on the road, ANONYMOUS. FAREWELL! IF EVER FONDEST PRAYER. FAREWELL! if ever fondest prayer For other's weal availed on high, But waft thy name beyond the sky. Are in that word-Farewell! - Farewell! These lips are mute, these eyes are dry: 1 only feel-Farewell! - Farewell! BYRON. FARE THEE WELL! AND IF FOREVER. FARE thee well! and if forever, Even though unforgiving, never 'Gainst thee shall my heart rebel. Would that breast were bared before thee Would that breast, by thee glanced over, Though the world for this commend thee, - Founded on another's woe: Though my many faults defaced me, Yet, O yet, thyself deceive not: Love may sink by slow decay, But by sudden wrench, believe not Hearts can thus be torn away; Still thine own its life retaineth, Still must mine, though bleeding, beat; And when thou wouldst solace gather, Though his care she must forego? When her little hands shall press thee, When her lip to thine is pressed, Think of him whose prayer shall bless thee, Think of him thy love had blessed! Should her lineaments resemble Those thou nevermore mayst see, All my faults perchance thou knowest, WHEN we two parted In silence and tears, To sever for years, Pale grew thy cheek and cold, The dew of the morning They name thee before me, In secret we met: In silence I grieve That thy heart could forget, Thy spirit deceive. If I should meet thee After long years, How should I greet thee? With silence and tears. FAREWELL THOU ART TOO DEAR FAREWELL! thou art too dear for my possessing, And like enough thou know'st thy estimate: The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing; My bonds in thee are all determinate. For how do I hold thee but by thy granting! And for that riches where is my deserving? The cause of this fair gift in me is wanting, And so my patent back again is swerving. Thyself thou gav'st, thy own worth then not knowing, Or me, to whom thou gav'st it, else mistaking; So thy great gift, upon misprision growing, Comes home again, on better judgment making. Thus have I had thee, as a dream doth flatter; In sleep a king, but, waking, no such matter. SHAKESPEARE AN EARNEST SUIT TO HIS UNKIND MISTRESS NOT TO FORSAKE HIM AND wilt thou leave me thus? Say nay! say nay! And wilt thou leave me thus, And wilt thou leave me thus, Neither for pain nor smart? And wilt thou leave me thus, And wilt thou leave me thus? Say nay! say nay! SIR THOMAS WYAT |