MELODY. Inserted in a collection of selected and original Songs, published by the Rev. J. PLUMPTRE, of Clare Hall, Cambridge. I. YES, once more that dying strain, II. While the Virtues thus inweave IIL Thus when life hath stolen away, SONG. BY WALLER. A lady of Cambridge lent Waller's Poems to the author, and when he re turned them to her, she discovered an additional stanza written by him at the bottom of the song here copied. Go, lovely rose! Tell her that wastes her time and me, That now she knows, When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be. Tell her that's young, Small is the worth Of beauty from the light retired; Suffer herself to be desired, And not blush so to be admired. Then die, that she The common fate of all things rare How small a part of time they share, [Yet, though thou fade, From thy dead leaves let fragrance rise; That goodness Time's rude hand defies, H. K. WHITE. "I AM PLEASED, AND YET I'M SAD." I. WHEN twilight steals along the ground, One, two, three, four, and five; I at my study window sit, And wrapt in many a musing fit, II. But though impressions calm and sweet, The tear-drop stands in either eye, I am pleased, and yet I'm sad. III. The silvery rack that flies away, Does that disturb my breast? IV. Is it that here I must not stop, V. Then is it that yon steeple there, When thou no more canst hear? |