ng hi! the hawthorn pink and pale!
When hedge-pipes they begin to chime,
And summer-flowers to sow the dale.

When lasses and their lovers meet
Beneath the early village-thorn,
And to the sound of tabor sweet
Bid welcome to the Maying-morn!

O May, thou art a merry time,
Sing hi! the hawthorn pink and pale!
When hedge-pipes they begin to chime,
And summer-flowers to sow the dale.

When grey-beards and their gossips come
With crutch in hand our sports to see,
And both go tottering, tattling home,
Topful of wine as well as glee!

O May, thou art a merry time,
Sing hi! the hawthorn pink and pale!
When hedge-pipes they begin to chime,
And summer-flowers to sow the dale.

But Youth was aye the time for bliss,
So taste it, Shepherds! while ye may:
For who can tell that joy like this
Will come another holiday?

O May, thou art a merry time,
Sing hi! the hawthorn pink and pale!
When hedge-pipes they begin to chime,
And summer-flowers to sow the dale.

_I'VE BEEN ROAMING._

FROM "LILIAN OF THE VALE."

I 've been roaming! I 've been roaming!
Where the meadow dew is sweet,
And like a queen I 'm coming
With its pearls upon my feet.

I 've been roaming! I 've been roaming!
O'er red rose and lily fair,
And like a sylph I 'm coming
With their blossoms in my hair.

I 've been roaming! I 've been roaming!
Where the honeysuckle creeps,
And like a bee I 'm coming
With its kisses on my lips.

I 've been roaming! I 've been roaming!
Over hill and over plain,
And like a bird I 'm coming
To my bower back again!

[Illustration: Full-page Plate]

_SYLVIA'S SONG._

The streams that wind amid the hills
And lost in pleasure slowly roam,
While their deep joy the valley fills,--
Even these will leave their mountain home;
So may it, Love! with others be,
But I will never wend from thee.

The leaf forsakes the parent spray,
The blossom quits the stem as fast;
The rose-enamour'd bird will stray
And leave his eglantine at last:
So may it, Love! with others be,
But I will never wend from thee.

_SERENADE._

FROM "SYLVIA": _Act IV. Scene I_.

Romanzo sings:

Awake thee, my Lady-love!
Wake thee, and rise!
The sun through the bower peeps
Into thine eyes!

Behold how the early lark
Springs from the