A ROUNDELAY.

Wide thro’ the azure blue and bright

Serenely floats the lamp of night;

The sleeping waves forget to move,

And silent is the cedar grove;

Each breeze suspended seems to say —

“Now, Leline, for thy Roundelay!”

My Delia's lids are clos'd in rest;

Ah! were her pillow but my breast!

Go, dreams! one gentle word impart,

In whispers place me by her heart;

While near her door I'll fondly stray,

And sooth her with my Roundelay.

But, ah! the Night draws in her shade,

And glimm'ring stars reluctant fade:

Yet sleep, my love! nor may'st thou feel

The pangs which griefs like mine reveal:

Adieu! for Morning's on his way,

And bids me close my Roundelay.