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POPULAR SONGS. §'^
LOVE.
By Lord Byron.
Deep in my soul that tender secret dwells,
Lonely and lost to light for evermore ;
Save when to thine my heart respoasive swells,
Then trembles into silence as before.
There in its centre, a sepulchral lamp
Burns the slow flame eternal, but unseen ;
Which not the darkness of despair can damp,
Tlio' vain its ray, as it had never been.
Remember me, ah ! pass not thou my grave.
Without one thought, whose relics there recline ;
The only pang my bosom dare not brave,
Must be to find forgetfulness in thine.
My fondest, faintest, latest accents hear ;
Grief for the dead, not virtue can reprove.
Then give me, all I ever asked, a tear—
The first, last, sole reward of so much love.
THE SKELETON HUNTSMEN'S SQNG AND
CHORUS.
From <* Der Freischutz iravestieJ'
Air. — Bright Chanticleer.
The moon's eclipse proclaims our hupt.
The graves release their dead,
The common man lifts up the wood.
The lord springs from the lead ;
jThe lady-corpses hurry on.
To join the ghostly crowds.
And off we go, with a ho ! — so ho !
A — hunting in the clouds.
With a hey, ho, chivey 1
Hark forward ! hai^k forward, tantivy ! J;c.