That swell again!—now full and high The forms I loved-and loved in vain, Then touch the lyre, my own dear love! And turns from all below, above, BE STILL, BE STILL, POOR HUMAN HEART. ELEANORA L. MONTAGU (Mrs. T. K. HERVEY). BE still, be still, poor human heart, Thy spring than earth's doth sooner fade, Thou lookest to the clouds,-they fleet; And thou, more changeful than the cloud, Like that lone flower in silence bow'd, Poor heart! be still. THE BRAVE OLD OAK. II. F. CHORLEY. The music by E. J. LODER. A SONG to the oak, the brave old oak, There's fear in his frown when the sun goes down And he sheweth his might on a wild midnight And still flourish he, a hale green tree, In the days of old, when the spring with cold Through the grass at his feet crept maidens sweet And on that day to the rebeck gay They frolick'd with lovesome swains: They are gone, they are dead, in the churchyard laid; But the tree it still remains. Then here's, &c. He saw the rare times when the Christmas chimes When the squire's wide hall and the cottage small Now gold hath the sway, we all obey, And a ruthless king is be; But he never shall send our ancient friend To be toss'd on the stormy sea. Then here's, &c. TUBAL CAIN. CHARLES MACKAY. Music by JOHN GRAY, and by HENRY RUSSELL. OLD Tubal Cain was a man of might In the days when earth was young; The strokes of his hammer rung: And he lifted high his brawny hand Till the sparks rush'd out in scarlet showers, And he sang, Hurrah for the spear and sword! Hurrah for the hand that shall wield them well, For he shall be king and lord!” To Tubal Cain came many a one As he wrought by his roaring fire, And each one pray'd for a strong steel blade, And he made them weapons sharp and strong, And gave him gifts of pearls and gold, And they sang, "Hurrah for Tubal Cain, Who hath given us strength anew! Hurrah for the smith! hurrah for the fire! But a sudden change came o'er his heart And Tubal Cain was fill'd with pain For the evil he had done. He saw that men, with rage and hate, Made war upon their kind; That the land was red with the blood they shed In their lust for carnage, blind. And he said, "Alas! that ever I made, Or that skill of mine should plan, The spear and the sword for men whose joy Is to slay their fellow-man !" And for many a day old Tubal Cain And his hand forebore to smite the ore, And bared his strong right arm for work, 66 And the red sparks lit the air "Not alone for the blade was the bright steel made;" And he fashion'd the first ploughshare. And men, taught wisdom from the past, In friendship join'd their hands, Hung the sword in the hall, the spear on the wall, And sang, 66 Hurrah for Tubal Cain, Our stanch good friend is he; And for the ploughshare and the plough To him our praise shall be. But while Oppression lifts its head, Though we may thank him for the plough, We'll not forget the sword." SONG FOR TWILIGHT. BARRY CORNWALL. HIDE me, O twilight air! Hide me from thought, from care, To-night I strive no more; If I must see through dreams, ELIZA COOK. The music by HENRY RUSSELL, I LOVE it, I love it, and who shall dare I've bedewed it with tears, I've embalmed it with sighs; "Tis bound by a thousand bands to my heart; Not a tie will break, not a link will start. Would you know the spell?-a mother sat there! In childhood's hour I linger'd near To fit me to die,-to teach me to live. She told me that shame would never betide As I knelt beside that old arm-chair. I sat and watch'd her many a day, When her eye grew dim, and her locks were grey; |