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IRISH MELODIES. |
55 |
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So firmly fond
May last the bond They wove that morn together,
And ne'er may fall
One drop of gall On Wit's celestial feather!
May Love, as twine
His flowers divine, Of thorny falsehood weed 'em!
May Valour ne'er
His standard rear Against the cause of Freedom ! Oh the Shamrock, the green, immortal Shamrock! Chosen leaf
Of Bard and Chief, Old Erin's native Shamrock! |
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AT THE MID HOUR OF NIGHT.
At the mid hour of night, when stars are weeping, I fly To the lone vale we lov'd, when life shone warm in thine eye; And I think oft, if spirits can steal from the regions
of air, To revisit past scenes of delight, thou wilt come to me there, And tell me our love is remember'd, even in the sky !
E 4
YYv C SyO~ C,0 9fr A(JL \(v -- ^j^ |
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