~ "Yes! but the waves seem ever Or a warning that calls away?" With those of the distant storm ?" Yes, yes! but there's something greater CHARLIE IS MY DARLING. CHARLIE is my darling, My darling-my darling! 'Twas on a Monday morning, Right early in the year, When first I saw my brave Monteith, The young cavalier. As he came marching up the brae The pipes play'd loud and clear, Wi' Highland bonnet on his head, He came to fight for Scotland's rights, Oh! Charlie, &c. SIMON THE CELLARER. W. H. BELLAMY. OLD Simon the cellarer keeps a rare store Of Malinsey and Malvoisie, Of Cyprus, and who can say how many more, For a chary old soul is he. Of sack and canary he never doth fail, And all the year round there is brewing of ale; Yet he never aileth, he quaintly doth say, While he keeps to his sober six flagons a day. But-ho! ho! ho! his nose doth show How oft the black jack to his lips doth go. Dame Margery sits in her own still room, For a matron sage is she; From thence oft at curfew is wafted a fume She says it is rosemarie. But there's a small cupboard behind the backstair, And the maids say they often see Margery there; Now Margery says that she grows very old, And she must take a something to keep out the cold. But-ho! ho! ho! old Simon doth know Where many a flask of his best doth go. Old Simon reclines in his high-back'd chair, And talks about taking a wife; And Margery often is heard to declare, That she ought to be settled for life. But Margery has, so the maids say, a tongue, And she's not very handsome, nor yet very young. So somehow it ends with a shake of the head, And Simon he brews him a tankard instead; With a ho ho ho he doth chuckle and crow, "What! marry old Margery! oh, no, no!" O LET ME LIKE A SOLDIER FALL. EDWARD FITZBALL. O LET me like a soldier fall Upon some open plain; This breast, expanding for the ball Howe'er forgot, unknown my tomb, I only ask of that proud race Though o'er my clay no banner wave THE LIGHT OF OTHER DAYS. ALFRED BUNN. THE light of other days is faded, For grief with heavy wing hath shaded The world with morning's mantle clouded, Shines forth with purer rays, But the heart ne'er feels, in sorrow shrouded, The light of other days. The leaf which autumn tempests wither, The birds which then take wing, When winter's winds are past, come hither, To welcome back the spring. The very ivy on the ruin In gloom full life displays, But the heart alone sees uo renewing The light of other days. I LOVE THE MERRY SUNSHINE. J. W. LAKE. I LOVE the merry sunshine, It makes the heart so gay To hear the sweet birds singing |