A fleeting moment of delight THE WOUNDED HUSSAR. THOMAS CAMPBELL, ESQ. Alone to the banks of the dark-rolling Danube By the light of the moon, her poor wounded Hussar. From his bosom that heaved, the last torrent was streaming, And pale was his visage, deep mark'd with a scar, And dim was that eye, once expressively beaming, That melted in love, and that kindled in war. How smit was poor Adelaide's heart at the sight! How bitter she wept o'er the victim of war! Hast thou come, my fond love, this last sorrowful night, To cheer the lone heart of thy wounded Hussar ? Thou shalt live, she replied: Heaven's mercy relieving Ye babes of my love, that await me afar !— ROLAND CHEYNE. ALLAN CUNNINGHAM. The sun upon a summer morn, Are fair to see-yet fairer far Seems ocean's simmering brine, Through which comes sailing thy good ship, My gallant Roland Cheyne. I saw the gloomy ocean laugh, I saw thy canvas catch the breeze My silken laces nine, As I lost sight of thy good ship, My gallant Roland Cheyne. All by the salt sea-wave I sat— Sang at my foot, I sigh'd, and said, O when wilt thou come home! THE TEARS I SHED MUST EVER FALL. MRS. DUGALD STEWART. The tears I shed must ever fall, Their toils are past, their sorrows o'er ; And those they loved their steps shall tread, And death shall join to part no more. Though boundless oceans roll'd between, But bitter, bitter are the tears Of her who slighted love bewails; The flatt'ring veil is rent aside; The flame of love burns to destroy. In vain does memory renew The hours once ting'd in transport's dye; The sad reverse soon starts to view, And turns the past to agony. E'en time itself despairs to cure Those pangs to ev'ry feeling due; Ungenerous youth! thy boast how poor, No To win a heart-and break it too. No cold approach, no alter'd mien, Neglected and neglecting all; heart. THE HILLS O' GALLOWA'. THOMAS CUNNINGHAM. Amang the birks sae blythe an' gay, Wi' music wild the woodlands rang, An' fragrance wing'd alang the lea, |