SONG.

BY T. CAMPBELL.


'Tis now the hour--'tis now the hour
To bow at Beauty's shrine;
Now whilst, our hearts confess the power
Of woman, wit, and wine;
And beaming eyes look on so bright,
Wit springs--wine sparkles in their light.

In such an hour--in such an hour,
In such an hour as this,
While Pleasure's fount throws up a shower
Of social sprinkling bliss,
Why does my bosom heave the sigh
That mars delight?--She is not by!

There was an hour--there was an hour
When I indulged the spell
That Love wound round me with a power
Words vainly try to tell--
Though Love has fill'd my checker'd doom
With fruits and thorns, and light and gloom--

Yet there's an hour--there's still an hour
Whose coming sunshine may
Clear from the clouds that hang and lower
My fortune's future day;