We'll spend our evenings as before,
And trust to tender friendship more
Than passion's ardent fires;
Freely to each our hearts unveil,
And weigh in candor's equal scale
Our hopes and our desires.
From books of sentiment refined,
Which gladden and improve the mind,
Our knowledge we'll renew;
And, from the hallowed page of Truth,
Inform our inexperienced youth
The path we should pursue.
Thus, a sweet hope will we secure,
That our young love may still endure,
Life's richest heritage;
On friendship based for happiness,
Be fruitful in all earthly bliss,
And bloom from youth to age.
So, when the Wintry months are o'er,
And violet Spring arrays once more
The hills and valleys fair,
We'll pluck from Time his brightest flower,
Transplant it to the nuptial bower,
And seek Contentment there.
FAIREST MAIDEN, STILL RETREATING.
Fairest maiden, still retreating,
Fairest maiden, still retreating,
Turn, O turn thyself again,
And soothe the heart for thee that's beating,
Once those eyes met mine with smiles,
Once those lips with mine were mated:
Why leave me thus, and break a heart
To love and Mary consecrated?
Fairest maiden, still retreating,
Fairest maiden, still retreating,
Turn, O turn thyself again,
And soothe the heart for thee that's beating.
Have I e'er inconstant proved,
Or wished the rosy bond to sever?
Why leave me thus, and break a heart
To love and Mary bound for ever?
FAIREST MAIDEN, STILL RETREATING.
Fairest maiden, still retreating,
Fairest maiden, still retreating,
Turn, O turn thyself again,
And soothe the heart for thee that's beating.
My faith to thee as truth is true,
My love as pure as thy pure spirit,
Why leave me thus, and break a heart
Where truth, and love, and thee inherit?
WRITTEN FOR THE FRANKLIN THEATRE, NEW-YORK.
SPOKEN BY MR. CHARLES WEBB, SEPT. 1835.
WHEN Saturn from Olympus' height was driven,
Dethroned by Jove, who grasped the bolts of heaven;
The exiled monarch left his realms subdued,
And o'er the Italian plains his course pursued-
Taught the first arts of life, and gave to man
The plough, the sickle, pruning-hook, and fan.
Crowned on the hills, his wealth Vertumnus yields—
Beneath, the valleys wave in golden fields;
While cluster, panoplied within the brake,
The deep blue berry and the purple grape.
Wide o'er the earth the blooming scenes diverge,
And from chaotic gloom the Arts emerge:
Commerce expands her white sail to the breeze,
Ploughs the rough billows of the briny seas,
And, pregnant with the fertile valleys' growth,
Bears back the treasures of the East and South:
Then Architecture rears his massy piles,
Or on the main, or on the sea-girt isles;
Temples, and towers, and palaces sublime,
And Science stoops from heaven to fly with Time.
So, from the skies the Golden Age descends,
And man with man in social union blends;
Refinement yields her ever gentle sway,
The untamed spirits of the world obey,
And on Parnassus' Mount-that mount divine,
Apollo led, descend the sacred Nine:
In mystic dance the Sisters glide along,
To measured numbers of immortal song;
While Memory calls bright Genius to her train,
And the Dramatic Queen begins her rein.
Then came the Augustan age-the age of peace,
Adorned with all the literature of Greece;
And while Thalia rears the magic dome
In classic Athens and imperial Rome,
She sways her sceptre o'er the generous mind,
By worth ennobled, and by art refined:
From Ida's flowery top the Graces bend,
And in fond Woman all their beauties blend;
The sterner sex relax their haughty mien,
And yield the heart's dominion to its Queen.
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