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HIBERNIAN SONGSTER. |
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MILD MABEL KELLY.
As when the softly blushing rose
Close by some neighb'rlng lily grows.
Such Is the glow thy cheeks diffuse,
And such their bright and blended hues.
The timid lustre of thine eye
With nature's purest tints can vie;
With the sweet bluebell's azure gem,
That droops upon its modest stem.
The poets of lerne's plains
To thee devote their choicest strains,
And oft their harps for thee are strung, ,
And oft thy matchless charms are sung.
Since the fam'd fair of ancient days
Whom bards and worlds conspir'd to praise,
Not one like thee has since appear'd,
Like thee, to ev'ry heart endear'd.
THE DAWNING OF THE DAY.
At early dawn I once had been
Where Lene's blue waters flow. When summer bid the groves be green.
The lamp of light to glow,
The lamp of light to glow; As on by bow'r, and town, and tow'r,
And widespread fields I stray, I meet a maid in the greenwood shade
At the dawning of the day,
At the dawning of the day. Her feet and beauteous head were bare.
No mantie fair she wore, But down her waist fell golden hair
That swept the tall grass o'er,
That swept the tall grass o'er; With milking pail she sought the vale,
And bright her charms display, ' Outshining far the morning star,
At the dawning of the day.
At the dawning of the day. Beside me sat that maid divine
Where grassy banks outspread, "Oh! let me call thee ever mine.
Dear maid," I gently said,
"Dear maid," I gently said; A blush o'erspread her Illy cheek.
She rose and sprang away, The sun's first light pursued her flight
At the dawning of the day,
At the dawning of the day. |
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THE FLOWEE OF FINAE.
Bright red is the sun on the waves of Lough Sheelii
A cool gentle breeze from the mountain is stealing,
While fair round its islets the small ripples play,
But fairer than all is the Flow'r of Fins.
Her hair is like night and her eyes like grey morning.
She trips on the heather as if its touch scorning,
Yet her heart and her lips are as mild as May day
Sweet Eily MacMahon, the Fiow'r of FlnaB.
But who down the hillside than the red deer runs fleeter?
And who on the lakeside is hast'ning to greet her?
Who but Fergus O'Farrel, the fiery and gay.
The darling and pride of the Flow'r of Flnse. |
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