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HYLAND'S MAMMOTH |
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To marry, I can assure you,
That state I will not undergo, So, young man, I pray you will excuse me,"
Said this pretty mala milking her cow. "Had I the wealth of great Omar,
Or all on the African shore; Or had I great Devonshire's treasure,
Or had I ten thousand times more, Or had I the lamp of Aladdin,
And had I his genius, also— I'd rather live poor on a mountain,
With colleen dhas cruthin amoe." "I beg you, withdraw, and don't tease me,
I cannot consent unto thee; I prefer to live single and airy,
Till more of the world I see; New cares they would me embarrass—
Beside, sir, my fortune is low: Until I get rich I'll not marry,"
Said the colleen dhas cruthin amoe. "A young maid Is like a ship sailing,
She don't know how long she may steer, For in every blast she is in danger,
So consent, and love me, my dear. For riches I care not a farthing;
Your affections I want, and no more; In wedlock I wish to bind you,
Sweet colleen dhas cruthin amoe!" |
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REMEMBER THE GLORIES OF BRIAN THE BRAVE.
Remember the glories of Brian the brave,
Though the days of the hero are o'er; Though lost to Mononia, and cold In the grave,
He returns to Kinkora no more. That star of the field, which so often hath poured
Its beam on the battle, Is set; But enough of its glory remains on each sword
To light us to victory yet. Mononla! when Nature embellished the tint
Of thy fields, and thy mountains so fair, Did she ever intend that a tyrant should print
The footstep of slavery there? No! Freedom, whose smile we shall never resign.
Go tell our invaders, the Danes, That 'tis sweeter to bleed for an age at thy shrine
Than to sleep but a moment in chains! Forget not our wounded companions, who stood
In the day of distress by our side; While the moss of the valley grew red with their blood.
They stirred not, but conquered and died. The sun which now blesses our arms with his light
Saw them fall upon Osory's plain, Oh! let him not blush, when he leaves us to-night.
To find that they fell there in vain. |
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OCH! NORAH DEAR.
Och! Norah dear! I'm waiting here,
I'm waiting still for you, love; And, while you sleep, the flow'rets weep.
All shrined in tears of dew, love. The silv'ry moon, its bright rays soon
Behind the hills will fade, love; But better there her beauties bear.
For thou her beams would shade, love.
Och! Norah dear, etc. |
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