Be hopeful, sweet singer; man may not raise
To lays that thou pourest high peans of praise:
The nightingale's song will ever delight,
Though sung in the gloom and silence of night.
Beautiful maiden, may never envy
Blanch the sweet roses and dim thy bright eye:
Purity, innocence, God is thy guide,
Angels shall guard and watch by thy side.
Bright stream, we bless thee; we trace thee afar
Down the green valley; Hope's beautiful star
Gleams on thy bosom; may never again
Wild fires of passion thy life-current drain.
Be hopeful, hope ever; hope never dies;
In midst of our sorrows hope ever lies:
The hot brow of anguish, cooled by the balm
Dropp'd from her pinions, is trustful and calm.