Hibernian Songster - Irish song lyrics

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Hyland's Mammoth Hibernian Songster
t                                        -----------------------------
NATIVE MUSIC.
.0, native music, beyond comparing.
The sweetest iar on the ear that falls, Thy gentle numbers, the heart remembers,
Thy strains enchain us in tender thralls; Thy tones endearing, or sad or cheering,
The absent soothe on a foreign strand. Ah, who can tell what a holy spell
Is in the songs of our native land! The proud and lowly, the pilgrim holy,
The lover kneeling at Beauty's shrine. The bard who dreams by the haunted streams—
All, all, are touch'd by thy powers divine; The captive cheerless, the soldier fearless.
The mother taught by nature's hand, Her babe when weeping will lull to sleeping
By some sweet song of our native land.
AILEEN, MAVOURNEEN.
He tells me he loves me, and can I believe
The heart he has won he can wish to deceive.
Forever and always his sweet words to me,
Are Aileen, mavourneen, acushlamachree.
Last night when we parted, his gentle good-by,
A thousand times said, and each time with a sigh,
And still the same sweet words he whispered to me,
My Aileen, mavourneen, acushlamachree.
The friend of my childhood, the friend of my youth,
Whose heart is all pure, and whose words are all truth
O, still the same sweet words he whispered' to me,
My Aileen, mavourneen, acushlamachree.
O, when will the day come, the dear happy day,
That a maiden may hear all a lover can say,.
And speak out the words he now whispers to me
My Aileen, mavourneen, acushlamachree.
> COULDST THOU LOOK AS DEAR.
~- Couldst thou look as dear as when
First I sighed for thee, Couldst thou make me feel again Every wish I breathed thee then,
Oh, how blissful life would be! Hopes that now beguiling leave me,
Joys that lie in slumber cold, All would wake, couldst thou but give m»
One dear smile like those of old. Oh, there's nothing left us now,
But to mourn the past! Vain was every ardent vow; Never yet did Heaven allow
Love so warm, so wild, to last. Not even hope could now deceive mo-Life itself looks dark and cold: Oh. thou never more canst give me
One dear smile like those of old!
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