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FRENCH MELODY.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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25

FRENCH MELODY.

[_]

Air—“J'étais bien jeune encore.

Let not her smile deceive thee!—
Love ne'er was to that bosom known;
Too soon its faithless light will leave thee,
Hopeless, joyless, blighted, and lone,—
Let not her smile deceive thee!
Or when her scorn shall grieve thee,
And that false smile no more shall beam;
And the bright wreath thy hopes now weave thee,
Seared and faded, alas! shall seem;—
Then too late thou'lt believe me.
Think not I would bereave thee
Wantonly of thy vision fair,
But when the guileful dream shall leave thee,
Ah! how wilt thou thy waking bear?—
Let not her smile deceive thee!