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The songs forth from my throat that come

Are sweet reward for me.

Yet dare I beg, this boon be mine,

Give me the cup of purest wine

Within a golden goblet.'

He raised the cup, he drank it dry:

'Oh, cordial pure and bright!

Oh! house thrice blessed with blessings high

That holds such boon as slight!

When ye are happy think of me,

And thank your God as earnestly,
As for this cup I thank you.'

A HARPER'S SONG.

WHO never weeping ate his bread,

Who never through the midnight hours

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Ah! its course, o'er wood and plain,

Makes thy griefs and mine to dart

Through my heart,

As each morning wakes again.

Night scarce bringeth me repose;
For whene'er mine eyes I close,

Mournful dreams my sleep affright,

And I feel the pangs that dart

Through my heart,

Strengthen, deepen night by night.

Oft in happy years have I
Watched the ships go sailing by,

All towards their harbour glide;

But, alas! the pangs that dart
Through my heart,

Pass not with the river's tide.

I must wear my gayest dress,

Taken from the shelved recess,

For the festival to-day.

No one knows the pangs that dart

Through my heart,

Fiercely tearing it away.

Ceaseless falls the hidden tear,

But contented I appear,

E'en my cheek a healthful red.

Did these pangs with fatal dart

Pierce my heart,

Ah! long since I had been dead.

THE WEDDING SONG.

We love to remember and sing you the lay

Of the Count, who resided of old

In the castle, wherein for his grandson to-day

The wedding rejoicings ye hold.

It chanced that the former in Palestine's land

Had won many laurels in warlike command; And when he again at his threshold did stand,

He found there his castle alone,

But servants and property flown.

Now, Count, hast returned to thy castle once more,

But changes full many are there;

The winds through the casements they whistle and roar,

And into the chambers so bare.

What now can be done, in the cold autumn night?

Full many I've passed in a heavier plight,

And brighter all grows with the dawning of light;

Then quick, by the moonbeams o'erhead,

To straw, to stable, to bed.

And as all inclining to slumber he lay,

A movement he hears on the ground:

A rat at its pleasure may rustle and play,
As if it some bread crumbs had found.

But see where there standeth the tiniest wight!
A dwarf, fairly shapen, with lantern so bright,
With eloquent gestures and manners polite,

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