The storm of despair has blown over,
No more by its vapour depress'd;
I laugh at the clouds of a lover,

With the sunshine of joy in my breast,
Love made by a parent my duty,

To the wish of my heart now arriv'd;
I bend to the power of beauty,
And ev'ry fond hope is reviv'd.
Morgiana my hope is reviv'd.

THE GLASSES SPARKLE ON THE BOARD.

The glasses sparkle on the board,
The wine is ruby bright,
The reign of pleasure is restor❜d,'
Of ease and gay delight;
The day is gone, the night's our own,
Then let us feast the soul,
If any pain or care remain,
If any pain or care remain,
Why drown it in the bowl,
If any pain or care remain,
Why drown it in the bowl.

This world they say's a world of wo,
But that I do deny ;

Can sorrow from the goblet flow,

Or pain from beauty's eye?
The wise are fools with all their rules,
When.they would joy controul;

If life's a pain, I say again,

Let's drown it in the bowl.

That time flies fast the poet sings,

In

Then surely it is wise,

rosy wine to dip his wings,

And seize him as he flies;

This night is ours, then strew with flow'rs

The moments as they roll,

If any pain or care remain,
Why drown it in the bowl

THE MASON'S FAREWELL.

Adieu, a heart-warm fond adieu,
Ye brothers of our mystic tie;
Ye favour'd and enlighten'd few,
Companions of my social joy;
Though I to foreign lands must hie,
Pursuing fortune's slippery ba';
With melting heart and brimful eye,
I'll mind you still when far awa.

Oft have I met your social band,
To spend a cheerful festive night,
Oft honoured with supreme command,
Presided o'er the sons of light;
And by that hieroglyphic bright,
Which none but craftsmen ever saw,
Strong mem'ry on my heart shall write,
Those happy scenes, when far awa

May freedom, harmony, and love,
Unite you in the grand design,
Beneath th' Omniscient eye above;
The glorious Architect divine;
That you may keep th' unerring rule,
Still guided by the plummet's law,
Till order bright completely shine,
Shall be my pray'r when far awa.

And you farewell, whose merits claim
Justly that highest badge to wear;
May heaven bless your noble name,
To Masonry and Scotia dear:
A last request permit me then,
When yearly you're assembled a',
One round, I ask it with a tear,
To him, the friend, that's far awa.

Alas! the social winter's night

No more returns while breath we draw,
Till sisters, brothers, all unite,

In that Grand Lodge that's far awa,

THE WEALTH OF THE COTTAGE.

A blessing unknown to ambition and pride,
That fortune can never abate;

To wealth and to splendour though often denied,
Yet on poverty deigns to await :

That blessing, ye powers, ol! be it my lot,
The choicest, best gift from above;
Deep fix'd in my heart, shall be never forgot
That the wealth of the Cottage, is love.

Whate'er my condition, I never repine,
By poverty ever distress'd;

Exulting I felt, what a pleasure was mine,
A treasure inshrin'd in my breast.
That blessing, ye powers, oh! be it my lot,
The choicest, best gift from above;

Deep fix'd in my heart, shall be never forgot,
That the wealth of the Cottage, is love.

THE MINUTE GUN AT SEA.

Let him who sighs in sadness hear,
Rejoice and know a friend is near!
What heavenly sounds are those I hear?
What being comes the gloom to cheer?

When in the storm on Albion's coast,

The night-watch guards his weary post,

From thoughts of danger free,

He marks some vessel's dusky form, And hears, amid the howling storm, The minute gun at sea.

And hears, amid the howling storm,

The minute gun at sea.

Swiit on the shore a hardy few,
The life-boat man,

With a gallant, gallant crew,

And dare the dangerous wave; Through the wild surf they cleave their Lost in the foam, nor know dismay, For they go the crew to save. Lost in the foam, nor know dismay, For they go the crew to save.

But, oh! what rapture fills each breast
Of the hapless crew of the ship distress'
When landed safe, what joys to tell
Of all the dangers that befell.
Then is heard no more,

By the watch on the shore,

The minute gun at sca. By the watch on the shore The minute gun at sea.

THE WEDDING DAY.

What virgin or shepherd in valley or grove
Will envy my innocent lays,

The song of the heart and the offspring of love,
When sung in my Corydon's praise?

O'er brook and o'er brake as he hies to the bow'r
How blithesome my shepherd can trip;

And O, when of love he describes the soft pow'r,
The honey-dew drops from his lip.

How sweet is the primrose, the violet how sweet,
And sweet is the eglantine breeze;

But Corydon's kiss, when by moonlight we meet,
To me is far sweeter than these.

I blush at his raptures, I hear all his vows
I sigh when I offer to speak;

And O, with delight my fond bosom o'erflowe,
When I feel the soft touch of his cheek.

spray,

Responsive and shrill be the notes from each
Let the pipe through the village resound,
Be smiles in each face, O, ye shepherds, to-day,
And ring the bells merrily round.