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SONijfeiER. 51
Round memory's shrine fondly Ungers
'i'he joys that have twin'd their bright spell;
And the harp that vibrates to these fingers.
Sighs in sadness the tones of farewell.
Where Italy's bright skies are shining,
\rid France, sunny France, spreads her bloom.
This heart will look back with repining.
And its pleasures be sadden'd in gloom*
Deep thrilling emotions are breaking,
While my fioughts on past images dwell;
And my voice at these visions are waking.
Breathes in sadness the notes of farewell'
Tke Young' Troubadour.
As sung by Mr. PEARMAN.
To the mountain's wild echo I warble my lays.
And harmless I wander through woods and through
braes ;
The peasant by moonlight, oft strays o'er the moor,
To welcome the song of the young Troubadour.
Oh, come to the lattice, and list to my lay;
Wave, wave thy fair hand, and bid me to stay ;
Oh grant but this boon, I ask for no more,
'Twill enliven the song of the young Troubadour.
Then I'll sing the old ditties of heroes that died.
And of maidens like you, for whom lovers have sigh'd
Oh, hearken then, lady, to-morrow Pm-sure
ifou'll welcome the song of the young Troubadour.