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THE LAD THAT I LOVE.
How sweet are the flowers that grow by yon fountain
And sweet are the cowslips that spangle the grove And sweet is the breeze that blows over the mountain Yet none is so sweet as the lad that I love.
Then I'll weave him a garland,
And sweet blooming posies ;
It was down in the vale, where the sweet Torza gliding
Its murmuring stream ripples thro' the dark grove, I own'd what I felt, all my passion confiding, To ease the fond sighs of the lad that I love.
Then I'll weave, &c.
THE DAYS THAT ARE GONE.
Tung" Erin go Bragh."
Bore over the plain the perfume of the flow'rs;
And calm meditation led forward the hours :
And sorrow has stoln from the lyre all its pow'rs. I paus’d on the strain, when fond mem'ry, tenacious,
Presented the form I must ever esteem;
Evanescent all, all, as the shades of a dream.
Yet still, as they rush'd thro' oppress'd recollection,
On which cheering hope scarcely glances a beam.
In vain into beauty all nature is springing,
In vain smiling spring does the blossoms unfold :
When each soft affection is dormant and cold;
But meek resignation supporting the spirit,
Unveils a bright scene to the uplifted eye; Ascene which the patient and pure shall inherit,
Where hearts bleed no more, and the tear shall be dry, There souls, which on earth in each other delighted, By friendship, by honour, by virtue united, Shall meet, and their pleasures no more shall be blighted, But perfect and pure as their love be their joy,
FROM HOPE'S FOND DREAM. From hope's fond dream tho' reason wakes,
In vain she points with warning hand; I dread advice I cannot take,
Love's powerful spells my steps command.
The bird thus fascination binds,
When darting from the serpent's eyes;
O LOVELY ROSE.
These flowers, the sisters of thy bloom;
Can half thy sweetness e'er assume. What are the beauties they disclose, Compar'd with thine, O lovely Rose?
Tho' in the crown we offer here,
No gems in splendid richness blaze; Tho' simple flow'rs alone appear,
It has its worth, it merits praise. Form’d by our grateful heart, it shows The worth of thee, O lovely Rose !
THE POST CAPTAIN. WHEN Steerwell heard me first impart
Our brave commander's story, With ardent zeal his youthful heart
Swell’d high for naval glory; Resolv'd to gain a valiant name,
For bold adventures eager, When first a little cabin-boy on board the Fame,
He would hold on the jigger,
While ten jolly tars, &c.
With quickness, care, and spirit;
And priz'd his dawning merit: :
He taught him soon to reef and steer,
When storms convulse the ocean, Where shoals made skilful veterans fear,
Which mark'd him for promotion :
None to the pilot, &c.
The foe he oft defeated,
Post captain he is rated;
Still bravely would defend her:
He'll prove his heart as tender.
To a brave conquer'd foe.
Seamen fear no danger nigh;
Sooth them with their lullaby.
Still no danger they descry;
Sooths them with its lullaby.
SHEPHERDS TELL ME.
My Flora pass this way?
Shepherds, tell me, &c.
Carnation, lily, and the rose;
Shepherds, tell me, &c. The beauteous wreath that decks her head,
Forms her description true; Hands lily white, lips crimson red, And cheeks of rosy hue.
Shepherds, tell me, &c.
LIRA LIRA LA.
LITTLE thinks the townsman's wife,
While at home she tarries,
Who a soldier marries;
Dancing now before the tent,
With her jolly soldier.
Wind and weather scorning,
And quit her in the morning ;