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IRISH MELODIES. |
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Has Hope, like the bird in the story, *
That flitted from tree to tree With the talisman's glittering glory—
Has Hope been that bird to thee ? On branch after branch alighting,
The gem did she still display, And, when nearest and most inviting,
Then waft the fair gem away ?
If thus the young hours have fleeted,
When sorrow itself look'd bright; If thus the fair hope hath cheated,
That led thee along so light; If thus the cold world now wither
Each feeling that once was dear :— Come, child of misfortune, come hither,
I'll weep with thee tear for tear. |
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NO, NOT MORE WELCOME.
No, not more welcome the fairy numbers
Of music fall on the sleeper's ear, When, half-awaking from fearful slumbers,
He thinks the full quire of heaven is near, —
* « The bird, having got its prize, settled not far off, with the talisman in his mouth. The prince drew near it, hoping it would drop it; but, as he approached, the bird took wing, and settled
again," &c----Arabian Nights, Story of Kummir al Zummaun and the
Princess of China. |
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