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IRISH MELODIES. |
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But she lov'd him in vain, for he left her to weep, And in tears, all the night, her gold tresses to steep, Till Heaven look'd with pity on true-love so warm, And chang'd to this soft Harp the sea-maiden's form.
Still her bosom rose fair — still her cheeks smil'd the
same — "While her sea-beauties gracefully form'd the light frame; And her hair, as, let loose, o'er her white arm it fell, "Was chang'd to bright chords uttering melody's spell.
Hence it came, that this soft Harp so long hath been
known To mingle love's language with sorrow's sad tone ; Till thou didst divide them, and teach the fond lay, To speak love when I'm near thee, and grief when away! |
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LOVE'S YOUNG DREAM.
Oh ! the days are gone, when Beauty bright
My heart's chain wove; When my dream of life, from morn till night, Was love, still love. New hope may bloom, And days may come Of milder, calmer beam, d 4 |
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