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US HYLAND'S MAMMOTH
THE IRISH GIRL.
Ono evening, as I stray'd down the river's side
Looking all around me as an Irish girl I spied,
So red and rosy were her cheeks, and yellow was her hair,
And costly were the robes which my Irish girl did wear.
Her shoes ol Spanish leather were bound round with spangles gay.
The tears came down her crystal eyes, and she began to say,
"Och hone, and alas; astore areen machree,
Why should you go and leave me, and slight your own Molly?"
The first time that I saw my love, I was sick and very bad,
All the request I asked was that she might tie my head!
I asked her if one as bad as me could ever mend again!
For love's a sore disorder—did you ever feel the pain?
My love, she'll not come nigh me for all the moan I make,
Nor neither will she pity me If my poor heart should break,
But was I of some noble blood and she of low degree.
She would hear my lamentation, and come and pity me.
My only love Is fairer than the lilies that do grow,
She has a voice that's clearer than any winds that blow;
She's the promise of this country, like Venus in the air,
And let her go where'er she will, she's my joy and only dear.
Be it so, or be it not, of her I take my chance,
The first time that I saw my love, she struck me in a trance,
Her ruby lips and sparkling eyes have so bewitched me,
That, were I King of Ireland, Queen of it she should be. |
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WHEN HE WHO ADORES THEE.
When he who adores thee has left but the name
Of his fault and his sorrows behind, Oh, say, wilt thou weep,,when they darken the fame
Of a life that for thee was resigned? Yes, weep, and however my foes may condemn,
Thy tears shall efface their decree; For Heaven can witness, though guilty to them,
I have been but too faithful to thee.
With thee were the dreams of my earliest love;
Every thought of my reason was thine; In my last humble prayer to the Spirit above,
Thy name shall be mingled with mine. Oh, blest are the lovers and friends who shall liv»
The days of thy glory to see; c But the next dearest blessing that Heaven can giv«
Is the pride of thus dying for thee! |
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WE MAY ROAM THROUGH THIS WORLD.
We may roam through this world, like a child at a feast,
Who but sips of a sweet, and then flies to the rest; And, when pleasure begins to grow dull In the east,
We may order our wings, and be off to the west; But if hearts that feel, and eyes that smile,
Are the dearest gifts that Heaven supplies, We never need ieave our own green isle,
For sensitive hearts and for sun-bright eyes. Then remember, wherever your goblet Is crowned.
Through this world, whether eastward or westward you roam, When a cup to the smile of dear woman goes round,
Oh, remember the smile that adorns her at home!
In England, the garden of Beauty is kept
By a dragon of prudery, placed within call; But so oft this unamiabie dragon has slept,
That the garden's but carelessly watched after all. Oh! they want the wild sweet-briery fence
Which round the flowers of Erin dwells; Which warns the touch, while winning the sense,
Nor charms us least when it most repels. |
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