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Songs and Poems from 1819 to 1879

By J. R. Planché
Planché, J. R. (1796-1880)

collapse sectionI. 
PART I.
  
STANZAS TO A BROKEN LUTE.
  
SONG
  
TO------
  
TO------
  
STANZAS FOR MUSIC.
  
TO------
  
TO------, WITH A RING.
  
TO------
  
TO THOMAS MOORE, ESQ.
  
TO------
  
SONG.
  
TO------
  
PARTING.
  
SCOTCH MELODY.
  
VENETIAN MELODY.
  
FRENCH MELODY.
  
LINES ON PASSING THROUGH FRANCE.
  
TO------
  
ELLEN.
  
SILENTLY.
  
VULCAN AND HYMEN.
  
IRISH MELODY. No. 1.
  
IRISH MELODY. No. 2.
  
IRISH MELODY. No. 3.
  
IRISH MELODY. No. 4.
  
IRISH MELODY. No. 5.
  
TO------
  
ON THE DEATH OF MRS. ---
  
SONG.
  
RONDEAU.
  
OLD ENGLISH MELODY.
  
TO J--- H---, ESQ., ON HIS MARRIAGE.
  
A SONG.
  
A SONG.
  
TO MY WIFE AFTER AN ILLNESS.
  
I LOVE THEE.
  
I'M IN LOVE.
  
A SONG
  
“THERE WAS A TIME.”
  
A SONG.
  
A SONG.
  
A SONG.
  
TO LIZZIE.
  
OH! NOT BY THE RIVER.
  
FROM THE FRENCH.
  
FROM THE PORTUGUESE OF CACCEORUS.
  
ASK YE WHERE MY HOME?
  
GIOVANNA.
  
SOUVENIR OF MOUNT EDGECUMBE.
  
ON HEARING A LADY SING “LOVE IS PASSING.”
  
AN ACROSTIC.
  
WEARY.
  
A SONG.
  
ACROSTIC
  
ON LEAVING PENCARROW.
  
A PROLOGUE.
  
AN EXCHANGE.
  
AN ANSWER.
  
TO MY WIFE.
  
“POVERTY PARTS GOOD COMPANY.”
  
THE FLOWERS OF TOWTON FIELD.
  
PROLOGUE TO THE “FORTY THIEVES.”
  
PROLOGUE TO “VALENTINE AND ORSON.”
  
SONG FROM “BABIL AND BIJOU.”
  
LOVE'S GIFTS.
  
WOMAN.
  
LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT.
  
“WITH WOMAN AS WITH OTHER GAME.”
  
“WHEREFORE NOT BEING SAD.”
  
OH! YE LORDS OF THE CREATION!
  
LINES ON THE DEATH OF CARL MARIA VON WEBER.
collapse sectionII. 
PART II.
  
SOME OLD READINGS OF OLD NURSERY RHYMES.
  
TO SYDNEY HALL, ESQ.
  
A CHRISTMAS GREETING.
  
“THE MAGPIE” TO “THE MAID.”
  
POLLY CONNOR
  
A WORD IN SEASON.
  
A SONG
  
UNSUPPORTED SUPPORTERS.
  
A LITERARY SQUABBLE.
  
JOHN BROWN'S ANSWER
  
MADAME VESTRIS'S ANSWER TO THE ALPHABET.
  
INTRODUCTION TO “MIRTH.”
  
SELF-EVIDENT.
  
NOTES OF AN OLD MOCKING-BIRD.
  
THE STORY OF ARIADNE.

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29

ELLEN.

To the cot of my love I returned broken-hearted,
And sighed o'er each scene that enchanted before;
The moonbeam shone brightly as when we last parted,
But Ellen could gaze on its lustre no more.
Though trimmed by strange hands, still her garden blooming,
Ungratefully gay seemed the smile that it wore;
The flowers she had cherished the gale was perfuming,
But Ellen rejoiced in their fragrance no more.
Shine on, envious moon, nought thy brightness excelling,
Far closed is that eye which more brilliancy bore;
And flourish, ye flowerets, around her lone dwelling,
Your rival in sweetness and bloom is no more.
Unprized be your beauty, unmourned your decaying,
Your splendour, your fragrance, new seasons restore;
Each morn, every eve, to my sight is displaying
Fresh beams and fresh blossoms—but Ellen—nomore!
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