THE ROSE OF THE WEST.

AIR-Jessie.

AURORA is waking upon the glad mountains,

In purple and gold the blue Orient glows,

As her glance tips with brightness lakes, rivers and fountains,
And shimmers the dew-drop impearled on the rose:
Blithe Pan, tuneful Pan, leads the voice of the morning,
Sweet Echo replies from her quiet unrest,

While the Loves and the Graces unite in adorning
The young queen of beauty-the Rose of the West.

O fair is the landscape, when morn is unveiling
The hills clad in verdure, the dell and the grove,
The valleys where thousand perfumes are exhaling
From trees smiling beauty, and flowers blushing love:
But fairer than verdure, gay flower, or sweet blossom,
The grove, or the dell with its light-waving crest,
Are the charms which expand o'er the warm, gentle bosom
Of the young queen of beauty-the Rose of the West.

And sweet are the honeyed cups on the trees glowing, Where the tuneful-winged humming-bird poises, and sips

The dew-dropping nectar, or pendent or flowing,

From May's vernal clusters, or Flora's bright lips: And sweet is the breath of young Zephyr, the rover, Up-sprung from the couch where the violets rest, But sweeter and dearer the shrine of the lover,

The young queen of beauty-the Rose of the West.

Let me wake with the lark, when earth tenderly blooming, Smiles up to the kiss of the amorous morn;

When verdure, and blossom, and flower are perfuming
The clime which their beauty and freshness adorn:
Let me wake, while the nabob lies curtained in splendor,
On the down of the cygnet-unconscious, unblest,

And speed on Love's pinions, my homage to render
The young queen of beauty-the Rose of the West.

10

HARRIET REDDING.

WHEN Spring, delightful Spring,
Mantles in green earth's bosom,
Around her she doth fling

Her bright unsullied blossom: Her vernal air, around this Fair, She breathes from budding roses,

And in each bright blue eye of light,

Her violet incloses:

To grace a fairer Flower,

Upon her greensward treading,

The Houri of her bower

The blooming HARRIET REDDING.

OI can ne'er forget

The many-many places,

Where I've so often met

This compeer of the Graces:
Her morning air, around this Fair,

Spring breathes from dewy roses,

And in each bright blue eye of light,

Her violet discloses :

When opening on the morn,

Those eyes of dewy brightness Nature's fair brow adorn

With Beauty's living likeness.

She's like the early flower,

Which opens in the wildwood, Beneath young April's shower,

Pure as her budding childhood: Her noontide air, around this Fair, Spring breathes from blushing roses, And in each bright blue eye of light, Her violet composes:

While o'er her dimpled cheek,

Life's crimson tint is spreading,

And tulip lips bespeak

The blooming HARRIET REDDING.

OI remember well

The flowery dell romantic, Where Love met this young Belle,

And in the gaze grew frantic: Her evening air, around this Fair, Spring breathes from sleeping roses, And in each bright blue eye of light,

Her violet reposes:

Love, trembling, bent his bow,
But ere the shaft was flying,
A glance had laid him low,

And conquered-Love was dying.

Sweet blossom of the earth,
O be thou happy ever,
And with thy beauty, worth

Go hand in hand together:
Life's vernal air, around this Fair,
A smiling Heaven disposes,
Her only dower, fair Virtue's flower-
The whitest of her roses:

And when five Summers more

Have ripened all the woman,

Should Love again implore,
Forget not he is human.

FINALE.

Then should some youth of noble mien Seek one to grace his wedding,

Be thou, fair maid, the Bridal Queen,The blooming HARRIET REDDING.