On halcyon wings our moments pass,
      Life’s cruel cares beguiling;
    Old Time lays down his scythe and glass,
      In gay good-humour smiling: 
    With ermine beard and forelock gray,
      His reverend part adorning,
    He looks like Winter turn’d to May,
      Night soften’d into Morning. 
    How grand in age, how fair in youth,
    Are holy “Friendship, Love, and Truth!”

    From these delightful fountains flow
      Ambrosial rills of pleasure;
    Can man desire, can Heaven bestow,
      A more resplendent treasure? 
    Adorn’d with gems so richly bright,
      Will form a constellation,
    Where every star, with modest light,
      Shall gild its proper station. 
    How grand in age, how fair in youth,
    Are holy “Friendship, Love, and Truth!”

THE SWISS COWHERD’S SONG IN A FOREIGN LAND.

IMITATED FROM THE FRENCH.

Oh, when shall I visit the land of my birth—­
The loveliest land on the face of the earth? 
When shall I those scenes of affection explore,
Our forests, our fountains,
Our hamlets, our mountains,
With pride of our mountains, the maid I adore? 
Oh, when shall I dance on the daisy-white mead,
In the shade of an elm, to the sound of a reed?

When shall I return to that lowly retreat,
Where all my fond objects of tenderness meet,—­
The lambs and the heifers, that follow my call,
My father, my mother,
My sister, my brother,
And dear Isabella, the joy of them all? 
Oh, when shall I visit the land of my birth?—­
’Tis the loveliest land on the face of the earth.

GERMAN WAR-SONG.[69]

    Heaven speed the righteous sword,
    And freedom be the word;
    Come, brethren, hand in hand,
    Fight for your fatherland.

    Germania from afar
    Invokes her sons to war;
    Awake! put forth your powers,
    And victory must be ours.

    On to the combat, on! 
    Go where your sires have gone;
    Their might unspent remains,
    Their pulse is in our veins.

    On to the battle, on! 
    Rest will be sweet anon;
    The slave may yield, may fly,—­
    We conquer, or we die!

    O Liberty! thy form
    Shines through the battle-storm. 
    Away with fear, away! 
    Let justice win the day.

[69] The simple and sublime original of these stanzas, with the fine air by Huemmel, became the national song of Germany, and was sung by the soldiers especially, during the latter campaigns of the war, when Buonaparte was twice dethroned, and Europe finally delivered from French predominance.

VIA CRUCIS, VIA LUCIS.

Night turns to day:—­
When sullen darkness lowers,
And heaven and earth are hid from sight,
Cheer up, cheer up;
Ere long the opening flowers,
With dewy eyes, shall shine in light.