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IRISH MELODIES. |
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Thus, when the lamp that lighted
The traveller at first goes out, He feels awhile benighted,
And looks round in fear and doubt But soon, the prospect clearing,
By cloudless starlight on he treads, And thinks no lamp so cheering
As that light which Heaven sheds. |
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COME O'ER THE SEA.
Come o'er the sea, Maiden, with me, Mine thro' sunshine, storm and snows; Seasons may roll, But the true soul Burns the same, where'er it goes. Let fate frown on, so we love and part not; 'Tis life where thou art, 'tis death were thou art not. Then come o'er the sea, Maiden, with me, Come wherever the wild wind blows ; Seasons may roll, But the true soul Burns the same, where'er it goes,
Was not the sea
Made for the Free, Land for courts and chains alone ?
Here we are slaves,
But, on the waves, Love and Liberty 's all our own. |
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