Awake!--Within the musk-rose bower I watch, pale flower of love, for thee; Ah, come, and shew the starry Hour What wealth of love thou hid'st from me! Awake! Awake! Shew all thy love, for Love's sweet sake! Awake!--Ne'er heed, though listening Night Steal music from thy silver voice: Uncloud thy beauty, rare and bright, And bid the world and me rejoice! Awake! Awake! She comes,--at last, for Love's sweet sake! [Decoration] _KING DEATH._ SET TO MUSIC BY THE CHEVALIER NEUKOMM. King Death was a rare old fellow! He sate where no sun could shine; And he lifted his hand so yellow, And poured out his coal-black wine. Hurrah! for the coal-black Wine! There came to him many a Maiden, Whose eyes had forgot to shine; And Widows, with grief o'erladen, For a draught of his sleepy wine. Hurrah! for the coal-black Wine! The Scholar left all his learning; The Poet his fancied woes; And the Beauty her bloom returning, As the beads of the black wine rose. Hurrah! for the coal-black Wine! [Illustration: Full-page Plate] All came to the royal old fellow, Who laughed till his eyes dropped brine, As he gave them his hand so yellow, And pledged them in Death's black wine. Hurrah!--Hurrah! Hurrah! for the coal-black Wine! [Decoration] _SIT DOWN, SAD SOUL._ Sit down, sad soul, and count The moments flying: Come,--tell the sweet amount That 's lost by sighing! How many smiles?--a score? Then laugh, and count no more; For day is dying! Lie down, sad soul, and sleep, And no more measure The flight of Time, nor weep The loss of leisure; But here, by this lone stream, Lie down with us, and dream Of starry treasure! We dream: do thou the same: We love--for ever: We laugh; yet few we shame, The gentle, never. Stay, then, till Sorrow dies; _Then_--hope and happy skies Are thine for ever! [Decoration] _A DRINKING SONG._ Drink, and fill the night with mirth! Let us have a mighty measure, Till we quite forget the earth, And soar into the world of pleasure. Drink, and let a health go round, ('T is the drinker's noble duty,) To the eyes that shine and wound, To the mouths that bud in beauty! Here 's to Helen! Why, ah! why Doth she fly from my pursuing? Here 's to Marian, cold and shy! May she warm before thy wooing! Here 's to Janet! I 've been e'er, Boy and man, her staunch defender, Always sworn that she was fair, Always _known_ that she was tender!