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And who is the man, with his white locks flowing ?
Oh, Lady fair ! where is he going ?
A wand'ring Pilgrim, weak, I falter,
To tell my beads at Agnes’altar.
Chill falls the rain, night winds are blowing,
Dreary and dark's the way we're going.

II.

Fair Lady! rest till morning blushes-
I'll strew for thee a bed of rushes.
Oh! stranger ! when my beads I'm counting,
I'll bless thy name at Agnes' fountain.
Then, Pilgrim, turn, and rest thy sorrow;
Thou'lt go to Agnes’ shrine to-morrow.
Good stranger, when my beads I'm telling,
My saint shall bless thy leafy dwelling.
Strew, then, oh! strew our bed of rushes;
Here we must rest till morning blushes.

OH! REMEMBER THE TIME.

THE CASTILIAN MAID.

I.
Oh! remember the time, in La Mancha's shades,

When our moments so blisfully flew;
When you call’d me the flower of Castilian maids,

And I blush'd to be call's so by you.
When I taught you to warble the gay seguadille,

And to dance to the light castanet;
Oh! never, dear youth, let you roam where you will,

The delight of those moments forget.

II.

They tell me, you lovers from Erin's green isle

Every hour a new passion can feel,
And that soon, in the light of some lovelier smile,

You'll forget the poor maid of Castile.
But they know not how brave in the battle you are,

Or they never could think you would rove; For’tis always the spirit most gallant in war

That is fondest and truest in love!

OH! SEE THOSE CHERRIES.

I.
Oh! see those cherries – though once so glowing,

They've lain too long on the sun-bright wall ;
And mark ! already their bloom is going ;

Too soon they'll wither, too soon they'll fall.
Once, caught by their blushes, the light bird flew round,
Oft on their ruby lips leaving love's wound ;
But now he passes them, ah ! too knowing
To taste wither’d cherries, when fresh may be found.

II.
Old Time thus fleetly his course is running;

If bards were not moral, how maids would go wrong ! And thus thy beauties, now sunn'd and sunning,

Would witherifleft on the rose-tree too long.
Then love while thou’rt lovely-e'en I should be glad
So sweetly to save thee from ruin so sad ;
But, oh ! delay not-we bards are too cunning
To sigh for old beauties when young may be had.

OH! SOON RETURN !

I.
The white sail caught the evening ray,

The wave beneath us seem'd to burn,
Wh all my weeping love could say

Was, “Oh! soon return !”
Through many a clime our ship was driven,

O'er many a billow rudely thrown ;
Now chill'd beneath a northern heaven,

Now sunn'd by summer's zone: Yet still, where'er our course we lay,

When evening bid the west wave burn, I thought I heard her faintly say, “Oh! soon return !-Oh! soon return !”

II. If ever yet my boscm found

Its thoughts one moment turn d from thee, 'Twas when the combat raged around,

And brave men look'd to me.

But though ’mid battles wild alarm

Love's gentle power might not appear,
He gave to glory's brow the charm

Which made even danger dear.
And then, when victory's calm came o'er

The hearts where rage had ceased to burn,
I heard that farewell voice once more,

“Oh! soon return!-Oh! soon return !”

OH! YES, SO WELL.

1.
OH! yes, so well, so tenderly

Thou’rt loved, adored by me,
Fame, fortune, wealth, and liberty,

Were worthless without thee.
Though, brimm'd with blisses, pure and rare,

Life's cup before me lay,
Unless thy love were mingled there,

I'd spurn the draught away.
Oh! yes, so well, so tenderly

Thou'rt loved, adored by me,
Fame, fortune, wealth, and liberty,

Are worthless without thee.

II.

Without thy smile how joylessly

All glory's meeds I see!
And even the wreath of victory

Must owe its bloom to thee.
Those worlds, for which the conqueror sighs,

For me have now no charms;
My only world's thy radiant eyes -

My throne those circling arms !
Oh! yes, so well, so tenderly

Thou’rt loved, adored by me,
Whole realms of light and liberty

Were worthless without thee.

OH! YES, WHEN THE BLOOM.

1. On! yes, when the bloom of Love's boyhood is o'er,

He'll turn into friendship tliat feels no decay;

And, though Time may take from him the wings he once

wore,
The charms that remain will be bright as before,
And he'll lose but his young trick of flying away.

II.
Then let it console thee, if Love should not stay,

That Friendship our last happy moments will crown:
Like the shadows of morning, Love lessens away,
While Friendship, like those at the closing of day,

Will linger and lengthen as life's sun goes down.

ONE DEAR SMILE.

I.
COULDst thou look as dear as when

First I sigh’d 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 me
One dear smile like those of old.

II.
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 me

Life itself looks dark and cold:
Oh! thou never more canst give me

One dear smile like those of old.

POH, DERMOT! GO ALONG WITH YOUR GOSTER.

I.
Por, Dermot ! go along with your goster,

You might as well pray at a jig,
Or teach an old cow Pater Noster,

Or whistle Moll Roe to a pig !

If

Arrah, child ! do you think I'm a blockhead,

And not the right son of my mother,
To put nothing at all in one pocket,
And not half so much in the other?
Poh, Dermot! etc.

II.
Any thing else I can do for you,

Keadh mille faltha, and welcome,
Put up an Ave or two for you,

Fear'd that you'd ever to hell come.
you

confess you're a rogue,
I will turn a deaf ear, and not care for 't;
Bid you put péase in your brogue,
But just tip you a hint to go barefoot.
Then get along with, etc.

III,
If you've the whiskey in play,

To oblige you, I'll come take'a smack of it ;
Stay with you all night and day,

Ay, and twenty-four hours to the back of it.
Oh! whiskey's a papist, God save it !

The beads are upon it completely ;
But I think, before ever we'd leave it,
We'd make it a heretic neatly.
Then get along with, etc.

iv,
If you're afear'd of a Banshee,

Or Leprochauns are not so civil, dear,
Let Father Luke show his paunch, he

Will frighten them all to the devil, dear.
It's I that can hunt them like ferrets,

And lay them without any fear, gra ;
But for whiskey, and that sort of spirits,
Why, them-I would rather lay here,* gra.

Then get along with, etc.

SEND THE BOWL ROUND MERRILY.

I.
Send the bowl round'merrily,

Laughing, singing, drinking; * Putting his hand on his paunch.

z

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