WHEN TIME WAS ENTWINING.

T. MOORE.]

[Air-Italian.

WHEN time was entwining the garland of years,
Which to crown my beloved was given;

Though some of the leaves might be sullied with tears,
Yet the flow'rs were all gather'd in heaven.

And long may this garland be sweet to the eye,
May its verdure for ever be new;

Young love shall enrich it with many a sigh,
And pity shall nurse it with dew.

OH! THE PLUM-PUDDING OF

J. E. CARPENTER.]

ENGLAND.

[Music by J. L. HATION.
WE'VE long sung the praise of old English roast beef,
The mighty Sir Loin-and the Baron, his chief,
But beef without pudding, with turkey no chine-
That is not the way that we Englishmen dine.
Then here's the plum-pudding of England,
Old English plum-pudding for me!

Plum-pudding's a mixture of all that is good,
No Frenchman to make it e'er yet understood;
To plain roast and boiled he is too vain to stoop,
Roast-beef he makes brick-bats, and plum-pudding
soup,

That's not the plum-pudding of England!
The sort of plum-pudding for me!

The commerce of England extends o'er the world,
Where'er the winds whistle our sails are unfurled;
Then home come our ships with plums, sugar, and
spice,

With currants and citrons, and all that is nice

To make the plum-pudding of England!

Old English plum-pudding for me!

The corn-growing fields of old England ne'er fai',
Our flour it is sweet, and our eggs never stale;
Our suet is fresh-but, the taste to enhance,
We don't mind a dash of the brandy of France
To make the plum-pudding of England!
Old English plum-pudding for me!

The man who plum-pudding refuses to eat
I'd hold you a wager at heart is a cheat,
While he who well loves it deserves a good wife,
For he feels himself young, and a boy all his life,
While he eats the plum-pudding of England!
Old English plum-pudding for me!

May solid plum-pudding, then, year after year,
At Christmas ne'er fail us, to make us good cheer;
Well boiled-plump and round-deck'd with holly-I
wish

Merry Christmas to all-and for ever a dish

Of the jolly plum-pudding of England!
Old English plum-pudding for me!

OH! YOU THAT HAVE THE CHARGE OF LOVE.

[T. MOORE.]

Oн, you that have the charge of love,
Keep him in rosy bondage bound,
As in the fields of bliss above,

He sits with flow'rets fettered round;
Loose not a tie that round him clings,
Nor ever let him use his wings.
For e'en an hour, a minute's flight,
Will rob the plumes of half their light,
Like that celestial bird whose nest

Is found beneath far eastern skies,
Whose wings, though radiant when at rest,
Lose all their glory when he flies.

THEN YOU'LL REMEMBER ME.

ALFRED BUNN.]

[Music by M. W. BALER.

WHEN other lips and other hearts
Their tales of love shall tell,
In language whose excess imparts
The pow'r they feel so well,
There may perhaps in such a scene,
Some recollection be,

Of days that have as happy been,
And you'll remember me.

When coldness or deceit shall slight
The beauty now they prize,
And deem it but a faded light

Which beams within your eyes,
When hollow hearts shall wear a mask,

"Twill break your own to see,
In such a moment I but ask,
That you'll remember me.

DOWN BY THE AVON'S FLOWING

J. E. CARPENTER.]

STREAM.

DUET.

[Music by STEPHEN GLOVER.

Down by the Avon's flowing stream,

There came a Bard, in his youth, to dream;
Loved by the gentle fairies long;

They weaved around him the spell of song.
With visions bright

They charmed his sight,
In legends old

Their loves they told.

'Twas thus he dreamed his youth away,

And wove his magic spell,

And now in Shakspeare's tuneful lay

The gentle fairies dwell;

And still they rove, when fades the beam,

Down by the Avon's flowing stream.

"I know a bank," said the Fairy Queen,
"Where oft he sleeps on the daisied green;"
"I know a bank," sung the Bard of old,
When to our wonder his dream he told.
Since that sweet time,

In his sweet rhyme,
In fairies bright

We take delight,

And still we wile the hours away
'Neath Shakspeare's magic spell,
And with him love the paths to stray
Where gentle fairies dwell;

For still they rove, when fades the beam,
Down by the Avon's flowing stream.

SWEET EVENING STAR.

REV. J. S. B. MONSELL.]

[Music by W. V. WALLACE.

SWEET evening star! whose dewy blessings fall,

Grateful and fresh upon the heart of all;

Sweet evening star! whose softened splendours rise, To make calm twilight when the daylight dies; Sweet evening star! my joy shall ever be,

Through woodland glades to watch and weep with thee.

Dear light of home! dearer than evening star
In thine own orbit lovelier by far;

Dear light of home! from loving hearts and eyes
Beaming love's daylight when day's twilight dies.
Dear light of home! what purer joy can be
Than day and night to love and live in thee?

Giver of all !-both evening star and home-
And mercies countless,-thro' Thy blessing come.
Giver of all! make star and home to guide
Thy wandering people nearer to Thy side.
Giver of all! let this their blessing be
That all Thy gifts uplift their hearts to Thee.

I MOURN THEE, BUT I LOVE NO

D. RYAN.]

MORE.

[Music by W. V. WALLACE.

I LOVED thee once, with heart as true
As ever fond affection knew,

Each joy, each care, but seem'd to twine
In closer bonds thy soul and mine.

But fortune's smiles have found thee changed,
Thy friendship cold, thy love estranged.
'Tis done, the dream of years is o'er,
I mourn thee, but I love no more.

Seek not to meet me, 'twere but vain
To give to each a fruitless pain,
The feeble smile, the careless eye,
Would but the wounded heart belie.
Farewell, though sorrow thou might feel,
Oh! from thy heart all, all conceal;
No sight can now the past restore,
I mourn thee, but I love no more.

THE SLAVE TRADE.

[Music by LOVER.

SAMUEL LOVER.]
WHEN Venus first rose from the wave,

Where of sea-foam they gracefully made her,
Three cheers for the goddess they gave

As she launch'd, in her shell, the fair trader; But she, an insurgent by birth,

Unfetter'd by legal or grave trade,

And defying our laws on the earth,
So boldly embark'd in the slave trade.

O'er the world, from that hour of her birth,
She carried her slave trade victorious;

And then, to her daughters of earth
Entrusted the privilege glorious :