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! Not love me! Oh, what have I done? ourishment did I not shun?

wasted; my spirits are lost;

are deep sunk, like the eyes of a ghost.

remember-ay, madam, you mustxceedingly stout and robust;

ur palfrey, I came at your call, went with you to banquet and ball.

! Not love me! Rejected! Refused! vas lover so strangely ill used! presents-I don't mean to boastconsider the money they cost!

you've worn them; and just can it be my trinkets, and not to take me?

throw them at me!-You'll break-do not startn my gifts-but you will break my heart!

e! Not love me! Not go to the church! was lover so left in the lurch!

distracted, my feelings are hurt; don't tempt me to call you a flirt.

my letters; my passion they told; ts of letters, save letters of gold;

t of my notes, too-the notes that I penned, Lotes-no, truly, I had none to send !

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nt Age is the lover for you?

alry's bloom I would strive-'tis too much the terrors of rivalry's crutch.

-remember I might call him out;

m, you are not worth fighting about; shall be stainless in blade and in hilt; ou a jewel-I find you a jilt.

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LESSON CL.

Rhine Song of the German Soldiers after Victory.—
MRS. HEMANS.

At the first gleam of the river, they all burst forth into the national chant Rhein! Am Rhein ! They were two days passing over, and the rocks the castle were ringing to the song the whole time; for each band reed it while crossing; and the Cossacks, with the clash, and the clang, ana oll of their stormy war-music, catching the enthusiasm of the scene, swellrth the chorus, ' Am Rhein! Am Rhein!"

Single Voice.

T is the Rhine! our mountain vineyards laving,
I see the bright flood shine;

ing on the march, with every banner waving,
Sing, brothers! 'tis the Rhine!

Chorus.

The Rhine, the Rhine! our own imperial river!

Be glory on thy track!

Ve left thy shores, to die or to deliver;

We bear thee freedom back.

Single Voice.

[ail! Hail! My childhood knew thy rush of water, Even as my mother's song;

'hat sound went past me on the field of slaughter, And heart and arm grew strong.

Chorus.

oll proudly on! Brave blood is with thee sweeping,
Poured out by sons of thine,

When sword and spirit forth in joy were leaping,
Like thee, victorious Rhine!

The chorus of this song may serve as a good exercise for simultaneous

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Single Voice.

me.—thy glad wave hath a tone of greeting,ath is by my home:

my children count the hours, till meeting. somed ones, I come!

Chorus.

e seas that chain shall bind thee never; I on, by hearth and shrine;

gh the hills that thou art free for ever; p thy voice, O Rhine!

LESSON CLI.

The Isles of Greece.-BYRON.

isles of Greece! the isles of Greece! here burning Sappho loved and sung,ere grew the arts of war and peace,There Delos rose and Phoebus sprung! nal summer gilds them yet; all, except their sun, is set.

- Scian and the Teian muse,
'he hero's harp, the lover's lute,
e found the fame your shores refuse;
Their place of birth alone is mute
sounds, which echo farther west

an your sires' "Islands of the Blessed."

e mountains look on Marathon, And Marathon looks on the sea; d, musing there an hour alone,

I dreamed that Greece might still be free; r, standing on the Persians' grave,

could not deem myself a slave.

A king sat on the rocky brow,
Which looks o'er sea-born Salamis,
And ships, by thousands, lay below,

And men in nations;-all were his!
He counted them at break of day—
And when the sun set, where were they?

And where are they? and where art thou, My country? On thy voiceless shore The heroic lay is tuneless now;

The heroic bosom beats no more; And must thy lyre, so long divine, Degenerate into hands like mine ?

'Tis something, in the dearth of fame,
Though linked among a fettered race,
To feel, at least, a patriot's shame,
Even as I sing, suffuse my face;
For what is left the poet here?

For Greeks, a blush-for Greece, a tear.

Must we but weep o'er days more blessed?
Must we but blush ?-Our fathers bled.
Earth, render back, from out thy breast,
A remnant of our Spartan dead;
Of the three hundred grant but three,
To make a new Thermopyla.

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