i* , ■ • - MsS$ fj ■■-'•-*'■*■;' ' : ' i - ■ . f '' 1 mimlWM nHHHH I 1 .1 * "" Q Q 2 >• < to z li. z o i 111 H u > n s lL (0 < Q I < a J > >■ < u m — < a 5 j a a Of li u u i ■ J Ui h N r- < u I 2 h U I \L D a ■ ■ H Z u. 5 j • > id u m UJ U z 5 a. Section ©* w | ( _ THE *A '"I SINGER'S OWx MAY 22 1936 kBOOK: x vg c\ £5Ml*SelectcTi Collection OP THE MOST POPULAR SENTIMENTAL, PATRIOTIC, NAVAL, AND COMIC SONGS. AS SUNG BY Messrs. Sinclair, Braham, Phillips, Horn, Pearman, Wood. B rough, and Russell ; Mesdames Austin, Knight, Feron, Pearman. Keely, Watson, and Wood ; Misses Hughes, Rock, Povey, Kelly, Clara Fisher, Turpin, Horion, and Watson. PHILADELPHIA: PUBLISH KD BY JOHN BALL, No. 48 North Fourth Street. 185L A TO THE FIRST EDITION. In presenting this collection of Songs to the public, the publishers would beg leave to state, that no expense or time has been spared to render it every way superior to any work ot the kind that has hitherto been presented to the American public. No songs have been admitted that do not claim the title of merit, either in composition or in air. The whole have been arranged by a gentleman of ac- knowledged musical taste and abilities, who has been at very considerable trouble in col- lecting" songs to which few others could have had access, and which are now for the first time submitted to general perusal. In this collection will be found most of the popular and favourite airs of Messrs. Sinclair, Braham, Phillips, Hern and Pearman ; Mos- dames Austin, Knight, Feron and Pearman ; Misses Hughes, Rock, Povey, Paton, Kelly IV PREFACE. and Clara Fisher; and other celebrated vo- calists who have delighted the world with their " 'witching melody." In fine, the publishers believe their work well worthy the approbation and patronage of the public. It is scarcely necessary to add, that not a single line has found admission into this book, which can directly or indirectly offend the nicest modesty, or mantle the cheek of beauty with the faintest blush. preface TO THE THIRTIETH EDITION. The publishers of "The Singer's Own Book," since the issuing of the first edition, have received the most unequivocal proofs of the estimation in which the work is held by the public. Within a period of little more than two years, upwards of thirty thousand copies have been disposed of, and the demand appears to be still increasing ; — a degree of Dopularity, which, it is confidently believed, lias never before been obtained by a work of this kind, within the United States. The mere statement of the above fact is as strong a commendation as the publishers can bestow upon the book. Yet they are anxious to render it still more worthy of the favour with which it has been received. They have accordingly again availed themselves of the services of a gentleman of musical taste and discrimination, who has selected the choicest VI PREFACE. songs from the latest publications, and added them to the former extensive list. The work fias thus received very important additions, and is presented to the public with a decided conviction that its claims to favourable notice have been very materially increased. Philadelphia, ) Jariy, 1835. j THE AMERICAN SINGER'S OWN BOOK STAR-SPANGLED BANNER. Oh! say can you see by the dawn's early light, What so proudly we hail'd at the twilight's last gleaming, Whose broad stripes and bright stars thro' the peril- ous fight, O'er the ramparts we walch'd were so gallantly streaming ; And the rocket's red glare, the bombs bursting in air Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there ? Oh ! say, does that star-spangled banner yet wave O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave I On the shore dimly seen thro' the mists of the deep, "Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes, What is that which the breeze, o'er the tow'ring steep As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses : Now it catches the gleam of the morning's first beam, In full glory reflected now shines on the stream : 'Tis the star spangled banner! oh, long may it wave O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave. And where is that band who so vauntingly swore, That the havoc of war and the battle r s confusiou 7 8 THE AMERICAN 1 A home and a country, shall leave us no more ? Their blood has wash'd out their foul footsteps* pollution: No refuge could save the hireling and slave, From the terror of flight, or the gloom of the grave, And the star spangled banner in triumph doth wave O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave. Oh! thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand Between their lov'd home, and the war's desolation; Blest with vict'ry and peace, may the heav'n rescued land Praise the power that hath made and preserved us a nation : Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just, And this be our motto — " In God is our trust." And the star spangled banner in triumph shall wave O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave ! HIGHLAND MARY. Sung by Mr Sinclair. Ye banks, and braes, and streams around The castle of Montgomery, Green be your woods and fair your flowers Your waters never drumilie; There simmer first unfaulds her robes, And there they langest tarry; For there I took the last farewell Of my dear Highland Mary. How sweetly bloomed the gay green birk, How rich the hawthorn's blossom ; As underneath her fragrant shade I clasp'd her to my bosom ! The golden hours on angel wings Flew o'er me and my dearie ; For dear to me as light and life, Was my sweet Highland Mary. SINGER S OWN BOOK. 9 Wi' mony a vow, and lock'd embrace, Our parting was fu' tender; And pledging afl to meet again, We tore ourselves asunder. But O ! fell death's untimely frost, That nipt my flower sae early: Now green's the sod, and eauld's the clay, That wraps my Highland Mary. O pale, pale now those rosy lips, I oft hae kiss'd sae fondly ; And clos'd for ay the sparkling glance That dwelt on me sae kindly! And mouldering now in silent dust That heart that lo'ed me dearly; But still within my bosom's core Shall live my Highland Mary. HASSAN THE BRAVE. Behold me, sung Hassan, the fearless and free, On the steed which obeys not a rider but me ; That points, like the quills of the eagle, his ears, And whose bound in the desert is light as the deer's Behold me, with sabre, new sharpen'd and bright, With pistols new flinted, and burnish'd for fight; My cap with fresh scarlet so gaily bedone, And my baldrick of silver, that gleams in the sun. When my true love espies me, the heart m her breast Shall beat quick as the pigeon's, when robb'd of hex nest ; She will hush the hoarse watch-dog, and hie to the grove, That the eye of her kindred espy not her love : Yet let them descry me, their wrath I defy, And why should she tremble, when Hassan is nigh? Like the hawk from the covey, selecting his prey, From the midst of her tribe would I bear her awav. 10 THE AMERICAN I would mount her behind me, sung Hassan the free, On the steed which obeys not a rider but me ; That points, like the quills of the eagle, his ears, And whose bound in the desert is light as the deer's. For I come with sabre, new sharpen'd and bright, With pistols new flinted, and burnish'd for fight; My cap with fresh scarlet so gaily bedone, And my baldrick of silver, that gleams in the sun COMIN r THROUGH THE RYE. Gin a body meet a body Comin' through the rye, Gin a body kiss a body, Need a body cry ? Ilka body has a body, Ne'er a ane hae I ; But a' the lads they lo'e me, And what the waur am I ? Gin a body meet a body Comin' frae the well, Gin a body kiss a body, Need a body tell? Ilka body has a body, &c Gin a body meet a body Comin' frae the town, Gin a body kiss a body, Need a body frown ? Ilka Jenny has her Jockey, &c. MAID OF LLANWELLYN. i've no sheep on the mountain, nor boat on the lake Nor coin in my coffer, to keep me awake; JNor corn in my garner, nor fruit on the tree, Yet the maid of Llanwellyn smiles sweetly on me Rich Owen will tell you, with eyes fall of scorn, Thread-bare is my coat, and my hosen are torn ; SINGERS OWN BOOK. 11 Scoff on, my rich Owen, for faint is thy glee, While the maid of Llanwellyn smiles sweetly on me. The farmer rides proudly to market and fair, And the clerk at the tavern still claims the great chair ; But of all our proud fellows the proudest I'll be, While the maid of Llanwellyn smiles sweetly on me. WOODMAN, SPARE THAT TREE. Sung by Mr. Rvsscll. Woodman, spare that tree ! Touch not a single bough In youth it shelter'd me, And I'll protect it now ; Twas my forefather's hand That placed it near his cot ; There, woodman, let it stand, Thy axe shall harm it not. That old familiar tree, Whose glory and renown Are spread o'er land and sea, And wouldst thou hack it down ? Woodman, forbear thy stroke ! Cut not its earth-bound ties ; Oh ! spare that aged oak Now towering to the skies ! When but an idle boy, I sought its grateful shade ; In all their gushing joy Here, too, my sisters play'd. My mother kiss'd me here ; My father press 'd my hand — Forgive this foolish tear, But let that old oak stand ' 12 THE AMERICAN My heartstrings round thee cling, Close as thy bark, old friend ! Here shall the wild bird sing, And still thy branches bend. Old tree ! the storms still brave ! And, woodman, leave the spot ; While I've a hand to save, Thy axe shall harm it not. THE LIGHT OF OTHER DAYS. As sung by Mr. Brough. The light of other days is faded, And all their glories past, For grief with heavy wing hath shaded The hopes too bright to last ; The world, which morning's mantle clouded, Shines forth with purer raj's ! But the heart ne'er feels, in sorrow shrouded The light of other days. The leaf which autumn tempests wither^ The birds which then take wing When winter's winds are past, come hither To welcome back the spring : The very ivy on the ruin, In gloom full life displays ; But the heart alone sees no renewing, The light of other days. LIGHT MAY THE BOAT ROW. Sung by Mrs. and Miss Watson, Oh ! calmly may the waves flow, And lightly may the boat row, And safe and swift the boat go That my lad's in ; singer's own book. 13 He plays the oar so tightly, Moves in the dance so sprightly, So gracefully and lightly, Oh ! there are none like him. Light may the boat row, the boat row, the boat row, Light may the boat row, that my lad's in. I know he is true-hearted, true-hearted, true- hearted ; He promised when we parted to come to me again. Light may the boat row, &c. He wears a blue jacket, blue jacket, blue jacket, He wears a blue jacket, and a dimple in his chin. Light may the boat row, &c. FAREWELL TO THE MOUNTAIN. As sung by Mr. Brough. Farewell ! to the mountain and sun-lighted vale, The moss-border'd streamlet and balm-breathing gale ; All so bright, all so fair, here a seraph might dwell, 'Tis too lovely for me : farewell ! oh ! farewell ! Farewell ! for more sweetly each sound meets mine ear ; The wild bee and butterfly they may rest here ; Hark their hum, how it blends with the deep con- vent's bell, Such strains are of heaven : farewell ! oh ! fare- well ! Farewell ! to the mountain and sun-lighted vale, The moss-border'd streamlet and balm-breathing gale ; All so bright, all so fair, here a seraph might dwell, Tis too lovely for me : farewell ! oh ! farewell! 14 THE AMERICAN I LOVE THIS WORLD RIGHT WELL. Sung by Mr. Howard. I love this world right well, I trow, I love of its charms to tell, For it is to me, as it should be, A world that I love full well ; For when I was young I lisp'd with my tongue The fervent prayer of a child, And with dreams of bliss in a world like this, I slept as my mother smiled. Oh ! I love this world right well, I trow, I love of its charms to tell, For it is to me, as it should be, A world that I love full well. When manhood came my joys were the same. For I felt as a man should feel ; My path it was bright, my heart was light, And I laugh 'd with a merry peal ; And when graver cares came with my years, And my children were around me, A constant wife whom I loved as life, To the world — the world still bound me. Oh ! I love this world, &c. POOR LOUISE. Sung by Mrs. Keely. Of all the mountain maidens fair With young Louise none could compare, Her full blue eyes, her shining hair, Her full blue eyes, her shining hair, Made captive every heart ; sweet Louise. Made captive every heart ; sweet Louise. Her voice was ever kind and low, When sorrow told its tale of woe, She'd hope, and tears, and help bestow, Ere she could say depart; kind Louise. singer's own book. 15 As she no guile, no art e'er knew, She thought that all the world was true ; She trusted, and she lived to rue She e'er put trust in man ; weak Louise. Her lover left her — madness came, And clothed her gentle thought in flame ; Her reason could not bear the shame, She sunk beneath the blow ; lost Louise. SOME LOVE TO ROAM O'ER THE DARK SEA FOAM. Sung by Mr. Russell. Some love to roam o'er the dark sea foam, Where the shrill wind whistles fiee ; But a chosen band in a mountain land, And a life in the wood for me, Where the shrill wind whistles free ; But a chosen band in a mountain land, And a life in a woods for me. When morning beams o'er the mountain streams, Oh ! merrily forth we go ; To follow the stag to his slippery crag, And to chase the bounding roe ; To follow the stag to his slippery crag, And to chase the bounding roe. Ho ! ho ! ho ! ho !— ho ! ho ! ho ! ho ! Ho ! ho ! ho ! ho ! ho ! ho ! ho ! The deer we mark through the forest dark, And the prowling wolf we track ; And for right good cheer in the wild woods here, Oh ! why should a hunter lack ? For with steady aim at the bounding game, And hearts that fear no foe ; To the darksome glade in the forest shade, Oh ! merrily forth we go. Ho ! ho ! Some love to roam, &c. 16 THE AMERICAN THE BRAVE OLD OAK. Sung by Mr. Russell. A song of the oak, the brave old oak, Who hath ruled in the greenwood long ; Here's health and renown to his broad green crown, And his fifty arms so strong. There is fear in his frown when the sun goes down, And the fire in the west fades out ; And he showeth his might on a wild midnight, When storms through his branches shout. Then sing to the oak, the brave old oak, Who hath ruled in this land so long ; And still flourish he a hale green tree, When a hundred } r ears are gone. He saw the times when the Christmas chimes Were a merry sound to hear ; And the squire's wide hall and the cottage smal' Were full of American cheer ; And all the day, to the rebeck gay, They frolick'd with lovesome swains ; They are gone, they are dead, in the churchyard laid, But the tree he still remains. Then sing to the oak, &c. THE BANKS OF THE BLUE MOSELLE. Sung by Miss Horton. When the glow-worm gilds the elfin flow'r That clings round the ruin'd shrine, Where first we met, where first we loved, And I confess'd me thine ; 'Tis there I'll fly to meet thee still, At sound of vesper bell. In the starry light of a summer night, In the starry light of a summer night, singer's own book. 17 On the banks of the blue Moselle, On the banks of the blue Moselle, In the starry light of a summer night, On the banks of the blue Moselle. If the cares of life should shade thy brow, Yes, yes, in our native bowers ; My lute and heart might best accord, To tell of happier hours ; Yes, there I'll soothe thy griefs to rest, Each sigh of sorrow quell. In the starry night, &c. FALSE ONE, I LOVE THEE STILL. FROM THE OPERA "LA SONNAMBULA." Sung by Mr. Wood. Still so gently o'er me stealing, Mem'ry will bring back the feeling, Spite of all my grief, revealing That I love thee, dearly love thee still ; Though some other swain may charm thee, Ah ! no other e'er can warm me, Yet, never fear, I will not harm thee — No, thou false one, no, I fondly love thee still ANGELS' WHISPER. Sung by Mr. Wood. A baby was sleeping, Its mother was weeping, For her husband was far on the wide raging sea, And the tempest was swelling 'Round the fisherman's dwelling, And she cried, " Dermont, darling, oh ! come back to me !" Her beads while she number'd, The baby still slumber'd And smiled in her face as she bended her knee : B 19 THE AMERICAN " Oh ! bless'd be that warning, My child, thy sleep adorning, For I know that the angels are whispering to thee. " And while they are keeping Bright watch o'er thy sleeping, Oh, pray to them softly, my baby, with me ; And say thou wouldst rather They'd watch o'er thy father, For I know that the angels are whispering, with thee." The dawn of the morning Saw Dermont returning, And the wife wept with joy her babe's father t& see ; And closely caressing, Her child with a blessing Said, " I knew that the angels were whispering with thee." DARK EYED ONE. FROM THE OPERA OF THE MAGIC FLUTE. Sung by Mr. Horn. Dark eyed one, dark eyed one ! come hither to me, I'll sing thee a song 'neath the tamarind tree: The queen of the garden, the ruby lipp'd rose, On her emerald throne by the rivulet grows— Come hither, my rosebud, and shame the proud flower, Outblush the gay queen in her own gaudy bower : I'll sing thee a song, and the burden shall be, Dark eyed one, dark eyed one, I languish for thee. So laden with sweets is each sigh of the gale, I'm sure my beloved is crossing the vale : The tulip is quaffing his cup full of wine, The turtle is murmuring vows to the pine — singer's own book. 19 . ■ * Oh, waste not the moments so precious to love, Come, drink with the tulip and court with the dove : I'll sing thee a song, and the burden shall be, Dark eyed one, dark eyed one, I languish for thee. THE BLOOM IS ON THE RYE. Sung by Mr. Howard. My pretty Jane ! my pretty Jane ! — Ah ! never, never look so shy ; But meet me, meet me in the evening, While the bloom is on the rye. Spring is waning fast, my love — The corn is in the ear ; The summer nights are coming, love, The moon shines bright and clear : Then, pretty Jane ! my dearest Jane ! &c. But name the day — the wedding day — And I will buy the ring ; The lads and maids in favours white, And village bells shall ring. Spring is waning fast, my love, &c. &c. THE HIGHLAND MINSTREL BOY. Sung by Mr. Wood. I hae wander'd mony a night in June, Along the banks of Clyde, Beneath a bright and bonnie moon, Wi' Mary at my side : As summer was she to mine e'e, And to my heart a joy, And well she loo'd to roam wi' me, Her Highland minstrel boy. I hae wander'd, &c. Oh ! her presence could on ev'ry star New brilliancy confer, And I thought the flowers were sweeter far When they were seen with her. 20 THE AMERICAN Her brow was calm as sleeping sea, Her glance was full o' joy, And, oh ! her heart was true to me, Her Highland minstrel boy. Oh ! her presence, &c. I hae play'd to ladies fair and gay, In many a southron hall, But there is one, far — far away, A world above them all. And now, though weary years have fled, I think wi' mournful joy, Upon the day when Mary wed Her Highland minstrel boy. I hae play'd to ladies, &c. ! WHEN THE TRUMP OF FAME. A FAVOURITE MARTIAL SONG IN THE OPERA OP THE MAID OF JUDAH. Swig by Mr. Wood. When the trump of fame, Loud sounding freedom's call, Bids in freedom's name, To fight or bravely fall — Bold the hero goes, Where maddening war shouts rise, And, midst countless foes, He flies, he flies. Bright the sword now gleams, And banners wave on high — Round the life-blood streams, 'Mid cries of " Yield, or die !" 'Till victory uprears Her pennon, red with gore, And shouts, to patriot ears, That slavery reigns no more. When the voice of Love To rescue calls the brave, singer's own book. 21 Who so base would prove, He would not fly to save ? Love, whose torch in hall And bower doth brightly flame, Champions finds in all Who manhood claim. Then shame befall the knight, Who, false to honour's laws, Shuns the listed fight In injured woman's cause : May he from the foe, In battle recreant fly, And by some traitor blow, Unpitied, fall and die ! AH! DO NOT FORGET, LOVE. Sung by Mrs. Watson. Ah, do not forget, love, the hour when we parted, The valley where we met ; Where oft we have danced with the young and gay- hearted, To the merry castanet. 'Twas there we first plighted affection so true, 'Twas there we last parted in sorrow, And shed the fond tear, as we sighed out, adieu ' In hopes of a happier to-morrow. Ah ! do not forget, love, the hour when we parted. The valley where we met ; Where oft we have danced with the gay and light- hearted, To the merry castanet, the merry castanet The merry castanet, the merry castanet. Oh ! why didst thou leave me, so sadly to grieve me, And break this beating heart ; Oh ! could I behold thee once more to enfold thee, Oh, never again would we part. 22 THE AMERICAN The roses may wither, that deck the gay bowers ; The blossoms may fall from the tree ; But never, in memory, shall fade those sweet hours, So sacred to friendship and thee, Where hope sheds its ray, love, and still seems to say, love, We've moments of happiness } r et, When again I shall meet thee, and bring, love, to greet thee, The merry castanet, &c. THE MERMAID'S CAVE. Sung by Miss Hughes. Come, mariner, down in the deep with me, And hide thee under the wave; For I have a bed of coral for thee, And quiet and sound shall thy slumbers be, In a cell of the mermaid's cave. Come, mariner, &c. And she who is waiting with cheek so pale, At the tempest and ocean's roar, And weeps when she hears the menacing gale, Or sighs to behold her mariner's sail Come whitening up the shore. Come, mariner, &c. She has not long to linger for thee, Her sorrows will soon be o'er, For the cord shall be broken, the prisoners free Her eye shall close, and her dreams will be So sweet, she will wake no more. Come, mariner, &c. W T HEN WAKES THE SUN AT EARLY DAWN. Sung by Miss Watson. When wakes the sun, at early dawn, Then from his distant cottage home, singer's own book. 23 I list to hear my lover's horn, Which seems to say, I come ! And as, from Alp to Alp, the sound, B} r echo wafted, steals to cheer; Nearer and nearer each rebound, I bless and joy to hear. When wakes the sun, &c. lyo ! Iyoi When sunset tints our glaciers bright With rosy hues, then forth I rove, And whisper, in the waning light, The name of names I love. And still, as to the vales around, Farther and farther, less and less, Echo to echo wafts the sound, Then echo's aid I bless. When wakes the sun, &c. Iyo ! Iyo ! ALL BY THE SHADY GREENWOOD TREE. FROM THE OrERA OF THE MAID OF JUDAH. Sung by Mr. Wood. All by the shady greenwood tree, The merry, merry archers roam ; Jovial and bold, and ever free, They tread their woodland home ; Roving beneath the moon's soft light, Or in the thick embow'ring shade, List'ning the tale, with dear delight, Of a waudering sylvan maid. All by the shady, &c. LIST THEE, DEAR LADY. FROM THE GRAND OPERA OF FRA DIAVOLO. Sung by Mr. Wood. List thee, dear lady, oh ! listen, I pray, In life's early season, love is the lay: 24 THE AMERICAN A young knight there came to his lady love's bower, He touched his guitar, he sang of love's power ; She was another's — oh ! there was the sting — Start not, fair lady — another I sing. Unknown w r as the knight, for no one could say From whence he had come, or whither his way ; Disguise he assum'd, he hover'd around, She was the charm that his bosom hod bound ; E'en in her chamber his love notes they ring- Start not, fair lady — another I sing. Past vows are forgotten — 'tis seen in her eyes, *Tis told in her blush, 'tis breath'd in her sighs ; The young knight is urgent, love is the tale — Love over reason too oft will prevail : Her thoughts are all his — to a brigand they cling— Start not, fair lady — another I sing. SAVOURNEEN DEELISH. Sung by Miss Hughes. Oh, the moment was sad when my love and I parted Savourneen deelish eileen ogg ! As I kiss'd off her tears I was nigh broken-hearted, Savourneen deelish eileen ogg ! Wan was her cheek, which hung on my shoulder, Damp was her hand, no marble was colder, I felt in my heart I ne'er more should behold her, Savourneen deelish eileen ogg ! Long I fought for my country, far, far from my true love, Savourneen deelish eileen ogg. All my pay and my booty I hoarded for you, love, Savourneen deelish eileen ogg ! Peace was proclaim'd — escaped from the slaughter, Landed at home, my s>weet girl ! I sought her, But sorrow, alas ! to the cold grave had brought her r Savourneen deelish eileen ogg i singer's own book. 25 THE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. Sung by Mr. Russell. I'll sing you a good old song, made by a good old pate [estate ; Of a fine old English gentleman, who had an old And who kept up his old mansion at a bountiful old rate, With a good old porter to relieve the old poor at his gate ! Like a fine old English gentleman, all of the olden time. His hall so old was hung around with pikes, and guns, and bows, And swords, and good old bucklers, which had stood against old foes, And 'twas there " his worship" sat in state, in doublet and trunk hose, And quaiPd his cup of good old sack to warm his good old nose ! Like a fine old, &c. When winter old brought frost and cold, he open'd house to all, And though threescore and ten his 3 r ears, he featly led the ball : Nor was the houseless wanderer e'er driven from his hall, For while he feasted all the great, he ne'er forgot the small. Like a fine old, &c. But time, though sweet, is strong in flight, and years rollYl swiftly by, [must die ! And autumn's falling leaf prochim'd the old man he He laid him down right tranquilly, gave up life's latest si°;h, And mournful friends stood round his couch, and tears bedimm'd each eye, For the fine old, &c, THE AMERICAN SO WARMLY WE MET. So warmly we met, and so fondly we parted, That which was the sweeter even I could not toll, That first look of welcome her sunny eye darted, Or that tear of passion which bless'd our farewell ; To meet was m heaven — and to part thus, another ; Our joy ana our sorrow seem'd rivals in bliss; Oh, Cupid's two eyes are not liker each other, In smiles, and in tears, than that moment to this. The first was like daybreak, new, sudden, delicious, The dawn of a pleasure scarce kindled up yet; The last was that farewell of daylight more precious More glowing and deep, as 'tis nearer its set. Our meeting, tho' happy, was ting'd by a sorrow, To think that such happiness could not remain, While our parting, though sad, gave a hope that to- morrow Would bring back the blest hour of meeting again. OH ! BLAME NOT THE BARD Air — Kilty Tyrrel. Oh ! blame not the bard if he fly to the bow'rs, Where pleasure lies, carelessly smiling at fame ; He was born for much more, and in happier hours, His soul might have burn'd with a holier flame. The string that now languishes loose on the lyre, Might have bent a proud bow to the warrior's dart : And the lip which now breathes but the song of de- sire, Might have pour'd the full tide of the patriot's heart ! But alas ! for his country — her pride is gone by, And that spirit is broken which i.ever would, bend > O'er the ruin her children in secret must sigh, For 'tis treason to love her, and death to defend. singer's own book. 27 Unpriz'd are her sons, till they've learn'd to betray; Uildifltillguiah'd they live, if they shame not their sires, And the torch that would light them through dignity's way, Must be caught from the pile where their country expires. Then blame not the bard, if in pleasure's soft dream He should try to forget what he never can heal : Oh ! give but a hope — let a vista but gleam Through the gloom of his country, and mark how he'll feel ! That instant his heart at her shrine would lay down Every passion it nurs'd, every bliss it ador'd, While the myrtle, now idly entwin'd with his crown, Like the wreath of Harrnodius, should cover his sword. But, though glory be gone, and though hope fade away, Thy name, loved Erin, shall live in hi3 songs ! Not ev'n in the hour when his heart is most gay, Will he lose the remembrance of thee and thy wrongs ! The stranger shall hear thy lament on his plains, The sigh of thy harp shall be sent o'er the deep, Till thy masters themselves, as they rivet thy chains, Shall pause at the song of their captive, and weep ! LOVE AND THE SUN-DIAL. Young Love found a Dial once in a dark shade, W T here man ne'er had wander'd, nor sun-beam play'd. : Why thus in darkness lie ?' whisper'd young Love, 4 Thou whose gay hours should in sunshine move V 4 1 ne'er,' said the Dial, * have seen the warm sun, So noonday and midnight to me, Love, are one.\ - 28 THE AMERICAN Then Love took the Dial away from the shade, And plac'd her where heaven's beam warmly play'd. There she reclin'd beneath Love's gazing eye, While all mark'd with sunshine her hours flew by 1 1 Oh ! how,' said the Dial, ' can any fair maid, That's born to be shone upon, rest in the shade V But night now comes on and the sunbeam's o'er, And Love stops to gaze on the Dial no more ; Then cold and neglected, while bleak rain and winds Are storminsr around her, with sorrow she finds That love had but number'd a few sunny hours, And left the remainder to darkness and show'rs ! MY BARK IS UPON TILE DEEP, LOVE My bark is upon the deep, love, My comrades impatient call, Awake, while the fairies sleep, love. Awake thee ! more bright than all. Awake ! awake ! Rosalia dear, awake. The sun may dry up the tear, love, That hangs on the drooping flower, But cold will its rays appear, love, Away from my lady's bower. But cold, &c. Awake ! for yon splashing oar, love, Its diamonds now throws to light, And faint from the distant shore, love, My summons comes over the night. And faint, &c. i go — but ere yonder star, love, Shall set in the mighty sea, Thy Carlos shall seek the w T ar, love, To gather its wreaths for thee. Farewell! farewell! farewell! Rosalia, love, farew T ell ! SINGER S OWN BOOK. 29 COME, REST IN THIS BOSOM. Come, rest in this bosom, my own stricken deer' Though the herd have fled from thee, thy home 19 still here; Here still is the smile that no cloud can o'ercast, And the heart and the hand all thy own to the last ' Oh ! what was love made for, if 'tis not the same Thro' joy and thro' torments, thro' glory and shame ? I knew not, I ask not, if guilt's in that heart, I but know that I love thee, whatever thou art ! Thou hast call'd me thy angel, in moments of bliss, — Still thy angel I'll be, 'mid the horrors of this, — Thro' the furnace, unshrinking, thy steps to pursue And shield thee, and save thee, or perish there too OFT IN THE STILLY NIGHT. Oft in the stilly night, Ere slumber's chain has bound me, Fond memory brings the light Of other days around me ; The smiles, the tears of boyhood's years, The words of love then spoken, The eyes that shone, now dimm'd and gone, The cheerful heart's now broken ! Thus in the stilly night, urks in the eye of Kate Kearney. singer's own book. 33 Oh, should you e'er meet this Kale Kearney, Who lives ou the banks of" Killarney, Bewail- of her smile, for many a wile, Lies hid in the smile of Kate Kearney. Tho she looks so bewitchingly simple, Yet there's mischief in ev'ry dimple, And who dares inhale her sigh's spicy gale, Must die by the breath of Kate Kearney. ARAB STEED. Oh give me but my Arab steed, a shield and falchion bright, And I will to the battle speed, to save him in the fight: His noble crest Fll proudly wear, and gird his scarf around ; But I must to the field repair, but I must to the field repair, For hark the trumpets sound ! hark ! hark ! hark the trumpets sound ! Oh give me but my Arab steed, A shield and falchion bright, And I will to the battle speed, To save him in the fight. Oh ! with my Arab steed I'll go, to brave the embat- tled plain, Where warriors brave their valour show, and drain each noble vein : His brow that oft the battle braves, with fadeless laurels crown'd. Shall guide me where his falchion waves, shall guide me where, &c. But hark ! the trumpets sound ! hark ! hark ! hark the trumpets sound ! Oh give me but my Arab steed, &c- C 34 THE AMERICAN HAIL COLUMBIA. By F. Hopkinson, Esq. Hail Columbia ! happy land ! Hail ye heroes ! heaven-born band I Who fought and bled in freedom's cause, Who fought and bled in freedom's cause. And when the storm of war was gone, Enjoyed the peaee your valour won. Let independence be our boast. Ever mindful what it cost ; Ever grateful for the prize, Let its altar reach the skies, Firm — united — let us be, Rallying round our liberty ; As a band of brothers join'd, Peace and safety we shall fir. Immortal, patriots ! rise once more ; Defend your rights, defend your shore ; Let no rude foe, with impious hand, Let no rude foe, with impious hand, Invade the shrine where sacred lies, Of toil and blood the well-earn'd prize. While offering peace sincere and just, In heaven we place a manly trust, That truth and justice will prevail, And every scheme of bondage fail. Firm — united, &c. Sound, sound, the trump of fame! Let Washington's great name, Ring through the world with loud applause, Ring through the world with loud applause, Let every clime to freedom dear, Listen with a joyful ear; With equal skill, and god -like power He govern'd in the fearful hour singer's own book. 35 Of horrid war; or guides with case, The happier times of honest peace. Firm — united, &c. Behold the chief who now commands, Once more to serve his country stands — The rock on which the storm will beat; The rock on which the storm will beat; But arm'd in virtue, firm and true, I J is hopes are fix'd on heaven and you. When hope was sinking in dismay, And glooms obscur'd Columbia's day, His steady m-ind, from changes free, Resolv'd on death or liberty. Firm — united — let us be, Rallying round our liberty; As a band of brothers join'd, Peace and safety we shall find. SEEK NOT WITH GOLD OR GLITTERING GEM. Seek not with gold or glitt'ring gem, My simple heart to move; To share a kingly diadem, Would never gain my love. The heart that's form'd in virtue's mould, For heart should be exchang'd ; The love that once is bought with gold, May be by gold estrang d. Can wealth relieve the lab'ring mind, Or calm the soul to rest ? What healing balm can riches find To sooth the bleeding breast? 'Tis love, and love alone, has power To bless without alioy ; To cheer affliction's darkest hour, And heighten ev'ry joy. Seek not with, &c. 36 THE AMERICAN WREATH THE BOWL. Air — Noran Kista. Wreath the bowl With flow'rs of soul, The brightest wit can find us : We'll take a flight Tow'rds heaven to-night, And leave dull earth behind us* Should love amid The wreaths be hid, That joy th' enchanter brings us, No danger fear While wine is near, We'll drown him if he stings us. Then wreath the bowl With flow'rs of soul, The brightest wit can find us ; We'll take a flight Tow'rds heaven to-night, And leave dull earth behind us! 'Twas nectar fed Of old, 'tis said, Their Junos, Joves, A polios ; And Man may brew His nectar too, The rich receipt's as follows : — Take wine, like this, Let looks of bliss Around it well be blended, Then bring wit's beam To warm the stream, And there's your nectar splendid ! So wreath the bowl, &c Say, why did Time His glass sublime Fill up with sands unsightly, singer's own book. 37 When wine he knew Runs brisker through, And sparkles far more brightly ? Oh, lend it us, And smiling thus, The glass in two we'd sever, Make pleasure glide In double tide, And fill both ends for ever! Then wreath the bowl, &c TEACH, OH! TEACH ME TO FORGET. Friends depart, and memory takes them, To her caverns pure and deep ; And a fore'd smile only wakes them, From the shadows where they sleep. Who shall school the heart's affection ? Who shall banish its regret ? If you blame my deep dejection, Teach, oh ! teach me to forget. Bear me not to festive bowers, Twafl with them I sat there last ; Weave me not spring's early flowers, They'll remind me of the past Music seems like mournful wailing, In the halls where we have met Mirth's gay call is unavailing ; Teach, oh! teach me to forget! One who hopelessly remembers, Cannot bear a dawning light; He would rather watch the embers Of a Love that once was bright ; Who shall school the heart's affection ? Who shall banish its regret ? If you blame my deep dejection Teach, oh ! teach me to forget ! 39 THE AMERICAN FARE THEE WELL, THOU LOVELY ONE. Fare thee well, thou lovely one, Lovely still, but dear no more, Once his soul of truth is gone, Love's sweet life is o'er ; Thy words, whate'er their flattering spell, Could scarce have thus deceiv'd, But eyes that acted truth so well, Were sure to be believ'd. Then fare thee, &c. Yet those eyes look constant still, True as stars they keep their light, Still those cheeks their pledge fulfil, Of blushing always bright; 'Tis only on thy changeful heart The blame of falsehood lies ; Love lies in ev'ry other part, But there, alas ! he dies. Then fare thee, &c. WHEN COLD IN THE EARTH. Air — Limerick's Lamentation. I. When cold in the earth lies the friend thou hast loved, Be his faults and his follies forgot by thee then ; Or, if from their slumber the veil be removed, Weep o'er them in silence and close it again : And oh! if 'tis pain to remember how far From the pathways of light he was tempted to roam, Be it bliss to remember that thou wert the star That arose on his darkness, and guided him home. SISGERS OWN BOOK. 39 From ihee and thy innocent beauty first came The revealings, ihat taught him true love to adore, To ieel the briglil presence and turn him with shame From the idols lie darkly had knelt to before. O'er the waves of a lite long benighted and wild, Thou cam'st like a soft golden calm o'er the sea And, if happiness purely and glowingly smiled On his ev'ning horizon, the light was from thee* III. And tho' sometimes the shade of past folly would rise, And tho' falsehood again would allure him to stray, He but turn'd to the glory that dwelt in those eyes, And the folly, the falsehood, soon vanish'd away. As the priests of the Sun, when their altar grew dim, At file day-beam alone could its lustre repair, So if virtue a moment grew languid in him, He but flew to that smile, and rekindled it there ! TAKE HEED ! WHISPER LOW. Behold! how brightly breaks the morning, Tho' bleak our lot, our hearts are warm ; To toil inured, all danger scorning, We'll liaii the breeze or brave the storm. Put off, put off, our course we know, Take heed, whisper low : Look out and spread your net with care; Take heed, whisper low 7 — The prey we seek we'll soon ensnare. Away ! no cloud is low'ring o'er us, Freely now we'll stem the wave: Hoist, hoist all sail, while full before us, Hope's beacon shines to cheer the bravev Put off, pin off, our, &c 40 THE AMERICAN AWAY! MY GALLANT PAGE, AWAY! Away ! my gallant page, away ! The clarion sounds afar ; I see the victor's proud array, Returning from the war. The heroes throng the shining strand, Thy valiant lord is there : And thou shalt from his lady's hand, The promis'd greeting bear : Then gallop away, my young and brave, The welcome call obey, And merrily speed thy eager steed, My gallant boy, away ! Away, and meet my warrior love ! The joyous shout is high, O'er vale and mountain, dale and grove, And echo joins the cry : Oh ! say that, from his native tow'r, I watch, o'er hill and plain, The triumphs of the happy hour, That brings him home again. Then gallop away, Sec. FORGET THEE. Forget thee ! — in my banquet hall. Go ask my fellow-men ; Or ask the tear that secret falls, If I forget thee then. The midnight hours with song and wine I ever shar'd with thee ; The midnight hours they still are thine, And fatal memory ! Forget thee ! — in the mirthful dance, There steals some eye's bright ray, Like thine — that makes me with its glance- Turn swift in tears away. singer's own book. 41 Go ask my minstrels, when they breathe The verse the poet's pen With each Parnassian sweet hath wreatL \ If I forget thee then ? Forget thee ! — Oh, there is but cms Could from my memory chase Each sweet charm I have gazed upon, Each softly winning grace ; To be that one's, my first, first vow I pledged with infant breath, And he comes to demand me now, Thy rival, love, is death ! Forget thee ! — when my funeral urn Thy tearful gaze shall meet, And censers of aroma burn, Exhaling at my feet: When winds and storms careering sweep Unheeded o'er my breast, And cypress waves — then turn and weep, And, own my love's at rest! LOVE THEE, DEAREST. Love thee, dearest, love thee! Yes — by yonder star I swear, Which thro' tears above thee, Shines so sadly fair. Tho' too 6ft dim, With tears like him, Like him my truth will shine ; And love thee, dearest, love thee! Yes — till death I'm thine. Leave thee, dearest, leave thee ! No — that star is not more true ; When my vows deceive thee, He will wander too. A cloud of night May veil his light, 42 THE AMERICAN And death shall darken mine, But leave thee, dearest, leave thee! No — till death I'm thine. o» ALICE GRAY. She's all my fancy painted her She's lovely ! she's divine ! But her heart is another's, She never can be mine ; Yet iovM I, as man ne'er lov'd, A love without decay, Oh ! my heart is breaking For the love of Alice Gray. Her dark brown hair is braided O'er a brow of spotless white, Her soft blue eye now languishes, Now flashes with delight. The hair is braided not for me, The eye is turned away, Yet my heart, my heart is breaking, For the love of Alice Gray. For her I'd climb the mountain side, For her I'd stem the flood — For her I'd dare the battle strife, Tho' I seaFd it with my blood. By night I'd watch her slumbers, And tend her steps by day — But scorn'd is the heart that's breaking For the love of Alice Gray. I've sank beneath the summer's sun, And trembled in the blast, But my pilgrimage is nearly done, The heavy conflict's past. And when the green sod wraps my grave* May pity haply say, * Oh ! his heart was broken For ths love of Alice Gray.' singer's own book. 43 HE STRIKES THE MINSTREL LYRE. Answer to Alice Gray. He strikes the minstrel lyre again And happy is his soiur. For brightly beams his laughing eye, And rapture's on his tongue : The clouds that darkened all his hopes, Have floated all away ; Her heart, her heart, is now his own, He's loved by Alice Gray. He quits the dark and sorrowing scene, His cares are hushed to rest, His pilgrimage is past and gone, His faithful love is blest; And now for him, and him alone Her eye shines bright and gay; Her heart, her heart is now his own, His bride is Alice Gray. SIGH NOT FOR LOVE. Sigh not for love, if you wish not to know Every torment that waits on us mortals here below; If you fain would avoid all the dangers and snares That attend human life, and escape all its cares, — Sigh not for love. If cheerfulness smiles on the cup as you sip, And you wish not to dash the sweet cup from your lip If life's rill you see sparkle with pleasure's gay beam, Nor destroy the gay bubbles that rise on the stream, — Sigh not for love. If you dread the sharp pang that assails the fond heart, If you wish to shun sorrow, and mirth would impart, If you prize a calm life, with contentment and ease, If "pleasure can charm you and liberty please, — Sigh not for love 44 THE AMERICAN THE MELLOW HORN. At dawn, Aurora gaily breaks, In all her proud attire, Majestic o'er the glassy lakes, Reflecting liquid fire. All nature smiles to usher in, The blushing queen of morn ; And huntsmen with the day begin, To wind the mellow horn. And huntsmen with, &c. At eve, when gloomy shades obscure The tranquil Shepherd's cot, When tinkling bells are heard no more, And daily toil forgot ; 'Tis then the sweet enchanting note, On Zephyrs gently borne, With watching cadence seems to float, Around the mellow horn. With witching cadence, &c COME DWELL WITH ME, Come dwell, come dwell with me. And our home shall be, our home shall be, A pleasant cot, In a tranquil spot, With a distant view of the changing sea : My cottage is a magic scene, The shelt'ring boughs seem ever green ; The streamlet as it flows along, Is murmuring a fairy song. Come dwell with, &c. The tendrils of a purple vine, Around the rustic porch shall twine ; The woodbine and the wild rose flow'r, Will make each casement seem a bow'rj finger's own rook. 45 I will rot lei thee once regret, The gay saloons where first we met ; Twill \)v my [Hide to heal thee say, Love makes" this valley lar more gay. Then dwell with, Sec. MY FRIEND AND PITCHER. The wealthy fool, with gold in store, Will still desire to grow richer; Give me but these, I ask no more, Mv charming girl, my friend, and pitcher. Mv friend so rare, my girl so fair, With such, what mortal can be richer? Give me but these — a fig for care, With my sweet girl, my friend, and pitcher. From morning sun I'd never grieve, To toil a hedge? or a ditcher, If that, when I come home at eve, I might enjoy my friend and pitcher. My friend so rare, &c. Though fortune ever shuns my door, I do not know what can bewitch her; With all my heart can I be poor, With my sweet girl, my friend, and pitcher My friend so rare, die. WHEN THE ROSE-BUD. When the rose-bud of summer, its beauty bestowing On winter's rude banks all its sweetness shall pour, And the sunshine of day in night's darkness be glowing, Oh ! then, dearest Ellen, I'll love you no more. When ot hope the last spark, which thy smile loved to cherish, In my bosom shall die, and its splendour be o'er, And the pulse of that heart which adores you shall perish, Oh! then, dearest Ellen, I'll love you no more. 46 THE AMERICAN NO! NO! The celebrated duet sung by Mr Sinclair and Mrs Rowbolham. He. — Will you not bless, with one sentence, a lover, Whose bosom beats only for you ; The cause of your anger, I prythee discover Pray tell me the reason for I She. No! He. — Say, dearest, you still love me ? She. No ! He. — Oh, how can you doom me to sorrow , Yet once again bless me with She. No He. — And promise to meet me to-morrow Promise — She. No! He. — Prythee — She. No! He. — Don't say, no ! He. — Must we, then, dearest Maria, sever, And can you then part with me ? She. No! He. — Then swear by yon sun, to be mine only ever, You cannot refuse me, love ! She. No! He. — You hate not your fond lover? She. No! He. — Your hand to my faithful heart pressing Sav, does it offend you, love ? She. No! He. — Then, to marry Will not be distressing, Answer ? Slie. No! He — Once more. She. No! no! no! no J singer's own book. 47 THE STORM. Cease, rude Boreas, blustering railer, List ye landsmen all to me; Messmates, hear a brother sailor Sing the clangers of the sea : From bounding billows lirst in motion, When the distant whirlwinds rise, To the tempest-troubled ocean, Where the seas contend with sides-. Hark! the boatswain hoarsely bawling — By topsail sheets and haulyards stand — Down topgallants quick be hauling — Down your staysails, hand, boys, hand* Now it freshens, set the braces, — Now the topsail sheets let go — Luff, boys, luff, don't make wry faces — To your topsails nimbly clew. Now all you at home in safety, Sheltered from the howling storm, Taring joys by Heaven vouchsafed ye, Of our state vain notions form. Round us roars the tempest louder, Think what fear our minds enthralls ; Harder yet, it yet blows harder. — Now again the boatswain cails ! The topsail yards point to the wind, boys, See all clear to reef each course — Let the loresheet go — don't mind, boys, Tnough the weather should be worse. Fore and aft the spritsail vard get — Reef the mizen — see all clear — Hands up, each preventer brace set — Man the foreyard — cheer, lads, cheer. Now the dreadful thunder roaring, Peal on peal, contending, clash : On our heads fierce rain falls pouring* In our eyes blue lightnings flash.; 48 THE AMERICAN One wide water all around us, All above us one black sky; Different deaths at once surround us — Hark ! what means that dreadful cry ? The foremast's gone ! cries every tongue out, O'er the lee, twelve feet 'bove deck; A leak beneath the chest-tree's sprung out- Call all hands to clear the wreck. Quick the lanyards cut to pieces — Come, my hearts, be stout and bold! Plumb the well — the leak increases — Four feet water in the hold ! While o'er the ship wild waves are beating, We for wives or children mourn ; Alas! from hence there's no retreating, Alas! to them there's no return. Still the leak is gaining on us, Both chain-pumps are choked below ; Heaven have mercy here upon us ! For only that can save us now. O'er the lea-beam is the land, boys — Let the guns o'erboard be thrown — To the pump come, every hand, boys — See our mizenmast is gone. The leak we've found, it can't pour fast, We've lighten'd her a foot or more ; Up and rig a jury-foremast — She rights ! — she rights ! boys — wear off shore. Now, once more, peace round us beaming, Since kind Heaven has saved our lives, From our eyes joy's tears are streaming, For our children and our wives: Grateful hearts now beat in wonder To him who thus prolongs our days; — Hush'd to rest the mighty thunder, Every voice bursts forth in praise. singer's own book. 49 WJLLIAM TELL. When William Tell was doom'd to die, Or hit the mark upon his infant's head, The bell toll'd out, the hour was nigh, And soldiers march'd with grief and dread! The warrior came, serene and mild, Gaz'd all around with dauntless look, Till his fond boy unconscious grnil'd ; Then nature and the father spoke. And now, each valiant Swiss his grief partakes, For they sigh, And wildly cry, Poor William Tell! once hero of the lakes. But soon is heard the muffled drum, And straight the pointed arrow flies, The trembling boy expects his doom, All, all shriek out — "he dies! he dies!" When lo! the lofty trumpet sounds! The mark is hit! the child is free! Into his father's arms he bounds, Inspir'd by love and liberty! And now each valiant Swiss their joy partakes, For mountains ring, Whilst they sing, Live William Tell! the hero of the lakes. ROSE OF PEACE. They say, that in the bowers, The rose of peace serenely grows, — The proud parterre — the lordly palace No such fragrance knows. If from its humble home, away We bear the tender prize, — Then leaf by leaf, (so sages say,) The lovely stranger dies. Then leaf bv leaf, &c. D 50 THE AMERICAN Ye Sylphs ! who guard the flower, That priceless gift, so sweet r so fair, I ask not grandeur, wealth nor power, But this be still my prayer: To soothe my lot, wherever cast, Whate'er my portion be r The rose of peace, while life shall last,. Oh! let it bloom with me ! The rose of peace, &c- THE VOICE OF HER I LOVE, How sweet at close of silent eve The harp's responsive sound ; How sweet the vows that ne'er deceive,. And deeds by virtue crown'd ! How sweet to sit beneath a tree In some delightful grove ; But oh! more soft, more sweet to me r The voice of her I love. Whene'er she joins the village train. To hail the new-born day, Mellifluous notes compose each strain, Which zephyrs waft away. The frowns of fate I'll calmly bear, In humble sphere to move; Content and bless'd whene'er I hear The voice of her I love. OH! AFTER MANY ROVING YEARS Oh ! after many roving years, How sweet it is to come, To the dwelling place of early youth. Our first, our dearest home ! To turn away our weary eyes, From proud ambition's tow'rs ; And wander in the summer fields. Among the trees and flowers. Oh, after many, &e» singer's own book. 51 But I am chang'd, since last I gazed On yonder tranquil scene; And sat beneath the old witch elm That shades the village green ; And vvatch'd my boat upon the brook, As 't were a regal galley ; And sigh'd not for a joy on earth, Beyond the Happy Valley. Oh, after many, &c. I wish T could recall again That bright and blameless joy; And summon, to my weary heart, The feelings of a boy. But I look on scenes of past delight, Without my wonted pleasure, As a miser on the bed of death Looks coldly on his treasure. Yet, alter many, &c. THE ROSE OF ALLANDALE. The morn was fair, the skies w 7 ere clear, No breath came o'er the sea, When Mary left her highland cot, And wauder'd forth with me : Tho' flowers deck'd the mountain's side, And fragrance fill'd the vale, By far the sweetest flower there, Was the Rose of Allandale. Where'er I wander'd, east or west, Tho' fate began to lower, A solace still was she to me, In sorrow's lonely hour : When tempests lasn'd our gallant bark, And rent her shiv'ring sail, One maiden form withstood the storm, 'Twas the Rose of Allandale. 52 THE AMERICAN And when my fever'd lips were parch'd, On Afric's burning sand, She whisper' d hopes of happiness, And tales of distant land: My life had been a wilderness, tJnblest by fortune's gale, Had fate not link'd my lot to her's, The Rose of Allandale. THE BRIDE. Oh ! take her, but be faithful still, And may the bridal vow, Be sacred held in after years, And warmly breath'd as now ; Remember, 'tis no common tie That binds her youthful heart: 'Tis one that only truth should weave, And only death can part. The joys of childhood's happy hour, The home of riper years. The treasur'd scenes of early youth. In sunshine and in tears , The purest hopes her bosom knew, When her young heart was free, All these and more she now resigns, To brave the w T orld with thee. Her lot in life is fix'd with thine, Its good and ill to share, And well I know 'twill be her pride, To sooth each sorrow there ; Then take her, and may fleeting time, Mark only Joy's increase, And may your days glide sweetly on, In happiness and peace. singer's own book. 53 ORATOR PUFF. Mr. Orator Puff had two tones in his voice, The one squeaking thus, and the other down so ; In each sentence he uttcr'd he gave you your choice For one half was B alt, and the rest G below. Oh ! oh ! Orator Puff, One voice for an orator's surely enough. But he still talk'd away, spite of coughs and of frowns So distracting all ears with his ups and his downs, That a wag once, on hearing the orator say ' My voice is for war,' ask'd him which of them, pray ? Oh! oh! &c. Reeling homewards, one evening, top-heavy with gin. And rehearsing his speech on the weight of the crown, He tripp'd near a saw T -pit, and tumbled right in, ' Sinking fund,' the last word in his noddle :ame down, Oh! oh! &c. Good lord,' he exclaimed, in his he and she tones, Help me out — help me out — I have broken my bones !' * Help you out !' said a Paddy who pass'd, ' what a bother ? 4 Why, there 's (wo of you there ; can't you heir me another V Oh! oh! &c THE PHANTOM SHIP. 'Twas midnight dark. The seaman's bark Swift o'er the waters bore him ; When, through the night, He spied a light, Shoot o'er the wave before him. 54 THE AMERICAN " A sail ! a sail !" he cries, She comes from the Indian shore And to-night shall be our prize, With her freight of golden ore." Sail on, sail on, — When morning shone, He saw the gold still clearer, But tho' so fast, The waves he pass'd, That boat seem'd never the nearer Bright daylight came, And still the same Rich bark before him floated ; While on the prize, His wishful eyes, Like any young lover's doated. ■** More sail ! more sail !"" he cries, While the wave o'er-tops the mast. And his bounding galley flies, Like an arrow before the blast. Thus on and on, Till day was gone, And the moon thro' heav'n did hie her, He swept the main, But all in vain, That boat seem'd never the nigher. And many a day, To night gave w r ay, And many a morn succeeded While still his flight, Thro' day and night, That restless mariner speeded. Who knows — who knows what seas, He is now careering o'er ? Behind the eternal breeze, And that mocking bark before ' singer's own book. 55 For, oh! till sky And earth shall die, And their death leave none to rue it, That boat must flee, O'er the boundless sea, And that shipjn vain pursue it SWISS BOY. Come, arouse thee, arouse thee, my brave Swiss boy, Take thy pail and to labour away ! [Repeat.] The sun is up with ruddy beam ; The kine are thronging to the stream. Come, arouse thee, arouse thee, my brave Swiss boy, Take thy pail, and to labour away. Am not I, am not T, say, a merry Swiss boy, When I hie to the mountains away! For there a shepherd maiden dear, Awaits ray song with listening ear. Am not I, &c Then at night! then at night — Oh! a gay Swiss boy. I'm away to my comrades, away! The cup we fill — the wine is pass'd In friendship round, until at last, With good night! and good night! goes the happy Swiss boy To his home and his slumbers, away. THE SWISS MAID. Come haste thee, come haste thee, my bonny Swiss maid. Take thy cloak, and to church let's away; The plighted love, I claim so true, For true's my love, sincere to you, Then haste thee, come haste thee, my bonny Swiss maid, Take thy cloak, and to church let's away. 56 THE AMERICAN Am not I, am not I, then a happy Swiss maid ? Now bless'd with my own true love ; My shepherd swain to welcome home, And hail with joy each night's return, Am not I, am not I, then a happy Swiss maid, Now blest with my own true love ? Now at eve, now at eve, see the happy Swiss maid, In her cot, with contentment and peace ; There's nought disturbs, devoid of care, Her rest is sweet, she knows no fear, Then ' good night,' and ' good night,' goes the happy Swiss maid, In her cot, to her slumbers in peace. THERE'S A TEAR THAT FLOWS WHEN WE PART. There's a tear that flows when we part, From a friend whose loss we moan; There's a tear that flows from the half-broken heart, When we think he may never return, Ah ! never. 5 Tis hard to be parted from those With whom we for ever could dwell ; But bitter indeed is the sorrow that flows, When perhaps we are saying farewell, For ever. There's a tear that brightens the eye Of the friend when absence is o'er; There's a tear that flows not from sorrow but joy, When we think to be parted no more, Oh ! never. When all that in absence we dread Is past, and forgotten's our pain ; How sweet is the tear we at such moments shed, When we see the sweet object again, For ever. singer's own book. 57 THE ROMAIKA. When the Balaika is heard o'er the sea, I'll dance the romaika, by moonlight with thee, If waves then advancing should steal o'er our track, Thy white feet in dancing, shall chace them all back. When the balaika, &c. Then at the closing of each merry lay, We'll lie reposing beneath the night ray, Or if declining the moon leave the skies, We'll talk by the shining of each other's eyes. When the balaika, &c. Oh! then how featly the dance we'll renew, Winding so fleetly, its light mazes through, Till stars shining o'er us, from heaven's high bowers, Will give their bright chorus, for one dance of ours. When the balaika, &c. PENSEZ A MOI, MA CHERE AMIE! When sorrow 7 clouds thy dream of mirth, And promised joys fade too soon, When flowers lie scentless on the earth, Nor hope is left to gild the gloom; Then while sad thy heart may be, Pensez a ?noi, ma chere amie! When music sheds its sweetest lay, When dying winds are heard at night, And fancy with some magic ray Shall soothe the breast with visions bright j Then while thy heart is calm and free, Pensez a moi, ma chere amie ! Fate may sunder ties the nearest, As now it tears this form from thine Hearts whose love is purest, dearest, Feel the blight that's withering mine ; Yet still with life 'twill cling to thee, Pensez a moi, ma chere amie! 58 the amehican But now adieu — one pearly tear Is stealing down thy fever'd cheek, To kindred souls how sweet, how dear, Expressing more than tongue can speak! Pure as that tear my faith shall be, Pensez a moi, ma chere amieJ THE HARPER'S SONG, Summer eve is gone and past, Summer dew is falling fast ; I have wandered all the day, Do not bid me farther stray; Gentle hearts of gentle kin, Take the wand 'ring harper in Bid not me in battle field, Buckler lift, or broad-sword wield ; All my strength and all my art, fe to touch the gentle heart, With the wizard notes that ring From the peaceful minstrel string. I feave song of war for knight, Lay of love for lady bright; Fairy tale to lull the ear, Goblin grim the maids to scare ; Dark the night, and long till day; Do not bid me farther stray. HEY THE BONNIE BREAST KNOTS. Sung by Mr Sinclair. Hey the bonnie, ho the bonnie, Hey the bonnie breast knots ; Blithe and bonnie were they all When they put on the breast knots. Theie was a bridal in our town, For ilka lass there was a loon, singer's own book. 59 Some wore blnck and some wore brown, But ilk ane had a breast knot. Hey the bonnie, &c. A sonsie lass wi' raven hair, Cam' wi a knot like lily fair; Gart mony hearts that hour feel sair, For ilk ane lo'e'd her breast knot. The bride a knot kept tae hersel ! Its colour she alone could tell, Wha' had the like wad bear the bell, And ha' a Jo, and a breast knot. Hey the bonnie, &c. It was nae black, it was nae blue,, It had nae sic unseemly hue ; But it was white, I tell you true, A braw bonnie breast knot Ane had the knot that like to me, Inspired all hearts wi' mirth and glee ; Farewell! kind friends and thanks to ye That loe sae weel my breast knots. Hey the bonnie, ho the boniu*. Hey the bonnie breast knots, Blithe and bonnie were they alt When they put on the breast knota MY LUVE'S LIKE A RED, RED ROSE. Sung hy Mr Sinclair. O, my luve's like a red, red rose, That's new r ly sprung in June ; O, my luve's like the melodie That's sweetly play'd in tune. As fair art thou, my bonnie lass, So deep in luve am I ; And I will luve thee still, my dear, Till a' the seas gang dry. 60 THE AMERICAN 'Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear, And the rocks melt wi' the sun ; I will luve thee still, my dear, While the sands o' life shall run. And fare thee weel, my only luve, And fare thee weel awhile ! And I will come again, my luve, Tho' it were ten thousand mile. IF SILENT LOOKS BETOKEN. If silent looks betoken, Our deeper feelings best, If thoughts which are not spoken, Are but more sweetly guess'd, Thou knowest mine already, While gazing on my brow, I grieve not, dearest lady, That language fails me now. But that hope may not borrow, The bright hue of thine eyes, To light love's world of sorrow With a ray of paradise. Why could I not have met thee, Ere love was so forbidden? Why may I not forget thee, Since my memory e'en is chidden ? Thro' the night-time long and lonely, My sleepless thoughts are thine, I weep, to fancy only, What bliss might have been mine ; Oh ! the spirit unforgiven, No keener pangs hath known, When gazing on the heaven It ne'er may call its own. singsr's own book. Gl TH& HIGHLAND WIDOW Oh ! leave rne not, my only one, Life hath few r harms for me, And wouldst thou sever that, my son, Which hinds my heart to thee: Leave not the mountains and the heath, Thy father used to rove, Free as the winds whose mighty breath, Roam o'er the land we love. Unlike a tree whose root still clings, Where first its branches grew, If thou wilt leave me, still thy home Shall be my dwelling too: Yet, as I take a ling'ring look Of scenes thy father lov'd, I feel I cannot leave the home, O'er which his footsteps rov'd. HER HEART IS NOT THERE. There is no music on the strings Of her neglected lute, Her white hands wake no more its chords, Her bird-like voice is mute. She wreaths no garlands for her vase, No roses for her hair ; She loiters in her lonely grove, But her heart is not there. The dancers gather in the hall, She is amid the band, With vacant smile and wand'ring glance, For those who claim her hand. Her eyes fill'd with unbidden tears, Her cheek is pale with care ; She's lonely 'mid the festival, For her heart is not there. She broods above her own dear thoughts, As o'er her nest the dove, While hope and mem'ry's but one dream, Her first young dream of love. 6*2 THE AMERICAN She hears a gallant trumpet sound, A banner sweeps the air, She sees a knight lead on the charge, And oh, her heart was there ! THE GOLDEN GIRL. Lucy is a golden girl, But a man, a man should woo her ; They who seek her, shrink aback, When they should, like storms, pursue her All her smiles are hid in light, All her hair is lost in splendour, But she hath the eyes of night, And a heart that's over tended Oh ! Lucy is, &c. Yet the foolish suitors fly, (Is 't excess of dread or duty ?) From the starlight of her eye, Leaving to neglect her beauty : Men by fifty seasons taught, Leave her to a young beginner, Who without a second thought Whispers, woos, and straight must win her. Oh ! Lucy is, &c. MINSTREL'S RETURN FROM THE WAR. The minstrel's return'd from the war, With spirits as buoyant as air, And thus on his tuneful guitar, He sung in the bovver of his fair : "The noise of the battle is over, The bugle no more calls to arms ; A soldier no more — but a lover, I bend to the pow T er of thy charms. Sweet lady, fair lady, I'm thine, I bend to the magic of beauty, Tho' the banner and helmet are mine Yet love calls the soldier to duty." singer's own book. G3 The minstrel hi> suit warmly press'd, She blush'd, ugh'd, and bung down her head, Till conquer'd ihe fell on his breast, And thus to the happy youth said: "The bugle shall part us love, never, My bosom thy pillow shall be, Till death tears thee from me, for ever, Still faithful, I'll perish with thee." Sweet lady, &c. But fame call'd the youth to the field ; His banner wav'd high o'er his head. He gave his guitar lor a shield, And soon he lay low with the dead, While she, o'er her young hero bending, Received his expiring adieu: 'I die whilst my country defending", But I die to my lady love true." * Oh, death ! (then she cried) I am thine, I tear off the roses of beauty ; The grave of my hero is mine, For he died true to love and to duty !" OH ! MERRY ROW THE BONNIE BARK. Oh ! merry row ! Oh ! merry row, The bormie, bonnie bark! Bring back my love to calm my woe, Before the night grows dark. My Donald wears a bonnet blue, A bonnet blue, a bonnet blue, A snow white rose upon it too; A highland lad is he. Then merry row, Oh ! merry row, The bonnie, bonnie bark ; Oh ! merry row the bonnie, bonnie baric, And bring him safe to me T As on the pebbly beach I stray'd, Where rocks and shoals prevail 64 THE AMERICAN 7 thus o'erheard a lowland maid, Her absent love bewail. A. storm arose — the waves ran high, The waves ran high, the waves ran high, A.nd dark and murky was the sky ; The w 7 ind did loualy roar. But they merry row'd the bonnie bark, The bonnie bark, the bonnie bark, They merry row'd the bonnie, bonnie bark And brought her love on shore. TO SIGH YET FEEL NO PAIN To sigh yet feel no pain ; To weep yet scarce know why ; To sport an hour with beauty's chain, Then throw it idly by ; To kneel at many a shrine, Yet lay the heart on none ; To think all other charms divine, But those we just have won ; This is love — careless love — Such as kindleth hearts that rove. To keep one sacred flame Through life unchilFd, unmov'd ; To love in wintry age the same That first in youth we lov'd ; To feel that we adore To such refin'd excess, That though the heart would break with more, We could not live with less ; This is love — faithful love, — Such as saints might feel above ! 'C ANNOT LYLE. The snow white plume her bonnet bore, Wav'd not more pure and fair ; Her sparkling eye, a floating gem — Like gold, her auburn hair. singer's own book. 65 The rose bud slumbering on its bed. Ne'er wak'd a sweeter smile, But now she's gone ! and lost to me My lovely Annot Lyle ! Thy fniry form I oft have seen ; On every passing breeze Have heard the melody of song, But, ah ! no strains like these, The thrilling tones that from thy harp The feelings oft beguile ; But now thou'rt gone, and lost to me, My lovely Annot Lyle ! Although thy heart's another's now, And beats no more for me, Yet I will teach my soul to pray, That it may pray for thee. This bursting heart alone can feel The absence of thy smiles ; Since thou art gone and lost to me, My lovely Annot Lyle! I LOVE MY JEAN. Sung by Mr Sinclair. Of a' the airs the wind can blaw, I dearly like the west, For there the bonnie lassie lives, The lassie I lo'e best : There wild-woods grow, and rivers flow, And mony a hill between ; But day and night my fancy's flight Is ever wi' my Jean. I see her m the dewy flowers, I see her sweet and fair ; I hear her in the tunefu' birds, I hear her charm the air ; £ 66 THE AMERICAN There's not a bonnie flower that springs, By fountain, shaw, or green, here's not a bonnie bird that sings, But minds me o' my Jean. blaw ye westlin winds, blaw saft Amang the leafy trees ; Wi' gentle breath frae muir an' dale, Bring hame the laden bees : And bring the lassie back to me, That's aye sae neat an' clean ; Ae blink o' her would banish care, Sae charming is my Jean. 1 see her in the glassy stream That winds along (he vale, I hear her in sweet echo's voice That dies along the gale : I'll love her while a vital spark Shall shed its latest gleam, Gay nature's charms would soon depart If 'twere na for my Jean. THE ECHO DUET. Sung by Mr Sinclair. Now hope and fear my bosom rending, Alternate bid each other cease : Soon shall death, my terrors ending, Calm each transient thought to peace Hark! a murm'ring sound repeating Ev'ry stifled sigh I hear, What can set this bosom beating, Alas ! 'tis mingled hope and fear. Now they cease this way retiring, And all is awful silence round. Ah! sure those notes, dear maid, were thine, The echoing sounds alone were mine, 'Tis her voice that meets my ear; Say where art thou, whose voice I hear ? singer's own book. 67 Oh ! quickly speak, no longer roam, To give thee liberty I come. Soft, love, 'tis I ; relief is near, Where art thou now ? I am here. This way advance, and you are free, This way to light and liberty. O SAW YE THE LASS WF THE BONNIE BLUE EEN. Sung by Mr Sinclair. O saw ye the lass wi' the bonnie blue een ? Her smile is the sweetest that ever was seen, Her cheek like the rose is, but fresher, I ween ; She's the loveliest lassie that trips on the green. The home of my love is below in the valley, Where wild flowers welcome the wandering bee ; But the sweetest of flowers in that spot that is seen. Is the maid that I love, wi' the bonnie blue een. O saw ye the lass, &c. When night overshadows her cot in the glen, She'll steal out to meet her loved Donald again ; And when the moon shines on the valley so green, I'll welcome the lass wi' the bonnie blue een. As the dove that has wandered away from his nest, Returns to the mate his fond heart loves the best, I'll fly from the world's false and vanishing scene, To my dear one, the lass wi' the bonnie blue een. O saw ye the lass, &c. MY SISTER DEAR. My sister dear o'er thi3 rude cheek, Oft I've felt the tear-drop stealing, When those mute looks have told the foelin/ r Heav'n denied thy tongue to speak ; A.nd thou hadst comfort in that tear, Sfoed for thee, my sister dear. 68 THE AMERICAN And now, alas ! I weep alone, By thee, my youth's dear friend, forsaken, 'Mid thoughts that darkest fears awaken, Trembling for thy fate unknown ; And vainly flows the bitter tear, Shed for thee, my sister dear. 'TIS SAID THAT ABSENCE CONQUERS LOVE. Tis said that absence conquers love, But, oh ! believe it not ; I've tried, alas ! its pow'r to prove, But thou art not forgot. Lady, though fate has bid us part, Yet still thou art as dear — As fix'd in this devoted heart, As when I clasp'd thee here. [ plunge into the busy crowd, And smile to hear thy name ; And yet, as if I thought aloud, They know me still the same ; And when the wine cup passes round, I toast some other fair ; — But when I ask my heart the sound, Thy name is echoed there. And when some other name I learn, And try to whisper love, Still will my heart to thee return, Like the returning dove : [n vain ! I never can forget, And would not be forgot ; F >r I must bear the same regret, Whate'er may be my lot. E'en as the wounded bird will seek Its favourite bower to die ; Sow lady! I would hear thee speak, And yield my parting sigh. 'Tis said that absence, &c singer's own rook. GO THE DYING SOLDIER TO HIS SWORD. Friend in the brittle day, My father's sword and mine, I cast thee now away, For ever thee resign. The bitter conflict's past, This palsied arm doth shrink, Life's tide is ebbing fast, My spirits fade and sink. Yet, ere I breathe my last adieu, I turn to thee, companion true ; And for the aid thou didst afTord, I thank thee well, my own good sword ! Tho' dimm'd thy once bright blade, With foemcn's blood imSu'd, Thy strength is undecay'd, Thy courage unsubdu'd. When I am dead and gone, Thou'lt gleam again on high, Some hand will bear thee on To deeds of victorv. Yet, ere I breathe, &c. SAY NOT WOMAN'S LOVE IS BOUGHT. O ! say not woman's love is bought W T ith vain and empty treasure ; O ! say not woman's heart is caught By every idle pleasure. When first her gentle bosom knows Love's flame, it wanders never; Deep' in her heart the passion glows; She loves, and loves for ever. O ! say not woman's false as fair ; That like the bee she ranges, Still seeking dowers more sweet and rare, As fickle fancy changes. 70 THE AMERICAN Ah ! no ,* th3 love that first can warm, Will leave her bosom never ; No second passion e'er can charm ; She loves and loves for ever. LA ROS£" D' AMOUR. Tell me have you seen a toy Called Love — a little boy? Armed with arrows — wanton — blind- Cruel now and then as kind — If he be among ye, say ; He is Venus' runaway! He's near I'm sure — For lo ! his lure — La Rose d' Amour ! Wings he hath, which tho' ye clip, He will leap from lip to lip — If by chance his arrows miss, He will shoot ye in a kiss : If he be among ye say, He is Venus' runaway ! He's near, I'm sure — For lo ! his lure — La Rose d' Amour ! AND YE SHALL WALK IX SILK ATTIRE. " And ye shall walk in silk attire, And siller have to spare ; Gin ye'll consent to be my bride, Nor think on Donald mair." Oh ! who would buy a silken gown, With a poor broken heart ? And what's to me a siller crown^ If from my love I part ? I would na' walk in silk attire, Nor braid wi' gems my hair ; singer's own book. 71 Gin he whose faith is pledged \vi' mine, Were wramr'd and grieving sair. From infancy he lov'd me still, And still my heart shall prove, How weel it can those vows fulfil Which first repaid his love. HONI SOIT QUI MAL Y PENSE. Honi soit qui mal y pense, English knights their motto bear, Candour claims the same pretence, For our France, and for our fair ; Then wherefore frown and look severely ? Chase thy sullens, dismal swain, List the speech that flows sincerely, List and trust, then smile again. How still that frown of awful sense, Ah! honi soit qui mal y pense, Honi soit qui mal y pense ; English knights their motto bear, Candour claims the same pretence, For our France and for our fair. Love, when shrin'd in nobler natures, Scorns with doubts to dim its ray, Shines reveal'd in all our features, Clear and open as the day ; Nay, prythee then, your fears beguiling. Smooth the horrors of that face ; Turn this way, and simp'ring, smiling, Strive to win a lady's grace. How ! still that frown of awful sense ? Ah ! honi soit qui mal y pense, Honi soit qui, &c. MY NATIVE LAND, GOOD NIGHT. Adieu ! adieu ! my native shore Fades o'er the waters blue; 72 THE AMERICAN The night winds sigh, the breakers roar, And shrieks the wild sea-mew, Yon sun that sets upon the sea, We follow in his flight ; Farewell, awhile, to him and thee, My native land, good night ! With thee, my bark, I'll swiftly go, Athwart the foaming brine ; Nor heed what land thou bear'st me to, So not again to mine. Welcome, welcome, ye dark-blue waves, And, when ye fail my sight. Welcome, ye deserts and ye caves, — My native land, good night! THE LANDING OF ROYAL CHARLIE. There's news from Moidart cam' yestreen, Will soon gar mony farlie, For ships of war hae just come in, And landed Royal Charlie ; Come thro' the heather, Around him gither, Ye're a' the welcomer early ; Come round him cling, Wi' a' yer kin, For wha'll be king but Charlie ? Come thro' the heather, Around him gither, Come Ronald, come Donald, Come a' the gither, An' crown your rightful lawful king, For wha'll be king but Charlie ? The highland clans wi' sword in hand, Frae John o' Groats to Airly, Hae to a man declar'd to stand Or fa' wi' Royal Charlie ? Come thro' the heather. &c singer's own book. 73 There's ne'er a lass in a' the land, Hut vows baith late an' early, To man she'll ne'er pie heart or hand, Wha wadiia iiL r ht for Charlie. Come thro' the heather, &< . The lowlands a' baith great and sma', Wi' mony a lord an' laird hae, Deelar'd for Scotia's king an' law, An' speir ye wha but Charlie. Come thro' the heather, &c. Then here's a health to Charlie's cause. An* be't complete an' early, His very name our hearts' blood warms, To arm for Royal Charlie. Come thro' the heather, &c. HUNTSMEN'S SONG AND CHORUS Oh! what can compare to the huntsman's bold plea- sure ! For whom is the goblet so rich and so free ? To rise from the grass at the horn's cheering measure, And follow the stag thro' the forest and lea. Oh ! these are enjoyments that lighten and cheer us, Give strength to the frame, and delight to the soul : When rocks with their echoes, and forests are near us, More free sounds the pledge from the full-flowing bowl. Yo ho! tral, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la. When rocks with their echoes, their echoes are near us, More free sounds the pledge from the full-flowing bowl. Yo ho ! tral, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la. Diana at night shines brilliantly o'er us, And aids us with coolness and shadows by day, To chase the grim wolf from his covert before us. And bring the wild boar in his fury to bay. 74 THE AMERICAN Oh ! these are enjoyments that lighten and cheer us, Give strength to the frame, and delight to the soul: When rocks with their echoes, and forests are near us, More free sounds the pledge from the full-flowing bowl. Ye ho ! tral, la, &" SHE WALKS IN BEAUTY. She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that's best of dark and bright, Meets in her aspect and her eyes ; Thus mellowed to that tender light, Which heaven to gaudy day denies. One shade the more, one ray the less, Had half impaired the nameless grace Which waves in every raven tresr, Or softly lightens o'er lier face ; Where thoughts, serenely sweet, express How pure, how dear their dwelling-place And on that cheek, and o'er that brow, So soft, so calm, so eloquent, The smiles that win, the tints that glow, But tell of days in goodness spent ,* A mind at peace with ail below, A heart whose love is innocent OH! REST THEE, BABE. Oh .' slumber, my darling, Thy sire is a knight, Thy mother's a lady, So lovely and bright, The hills and the dales, From the towers which we see, They all shall belong, My dear infant, to thee. singer's own book. 75 Oh ! rest thee, babe, rest thee, babe, sleep on till day , Oh ! rest thee, babe, rest thee, babe, sleep whilst thou may. Oh ! rest thee, my darling, The time it shall come, When thy sleep shall be broken By trumpet and drum. Then rest thee, my darling, Oh ! sleep whilst thou may ; For war comes with manhood, As light comes with day. Oh ! rest thee, babe, &c. THE TOAST BE DEAR WOMAN. Bright are the beams of the morning sky, And sweet dew the red blossoms sip ; But brighter the glances of dear woman's eye, And sweeter the dew on her lip; Her mouth is the fountain of rapture, The source from whence purity flows : Ah ! who would not taste of its magic, As the honey-bee drinks from the rose. Then the toast, then the toast be dear woman, Let each breast that is manly approve ; Then the toast, then the toast be dear woman, . A.nd nine cheers to the girls that we love ; Hip, hip, hip, hurrah! hip, hip, hip, hurrah ! Hurrrah, hurrah, hurrah for the girls that we love Come, raise the wine-cup to heaven high Ye gods on Olympus approve ; The ofFring thus mellow'd by woman's bright smile Outrivals the nectar of Jove ; Now, drain, drain the goblet with transport, The spell of life's best joys impart ; The cup thus devoted to woman, Yields the only true balm of the heart Then the toast, &c. 6 THE AMERICAN xMY BOAT IS ON THE SHORE My boat is on the shore, And my bark is on the sea ; But before I go, Tom Moore, Here's a double health to thee. Here's a sigh for those that love, And a smile for those who hate, And whatever sky's above, Here's a heart for ev'ry fate. Tho' the ocean roars around me, Yet it still shall bear me on, Tho' a desert should surround me. It hath springs that may be won. Wer't the last drop in the well, As I gasp upon the brink, Ere my sinking spirits fell, 'Tis to thee that I would drink. In this water as this wine, The libations I would pour, Should be peace to thee and thine, And a health to thee, Tom Moore. THE GASCON VESPERS. Hark! the merry peal is ringing, List ye, how the belis around, O'er the Garonne's banks are flinging, Far and near, their cheerful sound. Hark ye! how each Gascon maiden, To the rising moon now sings ; While with sweets the night breeze laden, Wafts their voices on its wings ; Haste then, stranger, join our chorus, Come then with oar maidens pray, Join the happy group before us, Chanting 'neath the moonlight ray. singer's own book. 77 See them, dancing, chant the pleasure Of their rustic home so sweet ; Changing now in mournful measure, Tales of hapless love repeat. Haste, then, stranger, &c. THE BROKEN FLOWER. Oh ! wear it on thy breast, my love, Yet, yet a little while, Sweetness is lingering on its leaves, TJio' laded be its smile. Then for the sake of what hath been, Oh, cast it not away, 'Twas born to grace a summer scene, A long, bright golden day, my love, A long, bright golden day. A little while around thee, love, Its odours yet shall cling, Telling that on thy breast hath lain, A sweet, tho' blighted thing. But not e'en that warm heart hath pow'r, To win it back from fate : Oh! I am like this broken flow'r, Cherish'd too late, too late, my love, Cherish'd, alas, too late. GLIDE OX, MY BARK. Glide on, my bark ; the summer's tide Is gently flowing to thy side ; Around thy prow, the waters bright, In circling rounds of broken light, Are glitt'ring, as if ocean gave Her countless gems to deck the wave ; Whilst moon-light shines like mimic day- Glide on, my bark, thy moon-lit way. 78 THE AMERICAN Glide on, my bark! how sweet to rove, With such a beaming sky above, O'er the dark sea, whose murmurs seem, Like fairy music in a dream ; No sound is heard to break the spell, Except the water's gentle swell ; Whilst midnight, like a mimic day, Shines on, to guide our moon-lit way. THE RAY THAT BEAMS FOREVER Composed by M. Kelly. There is a bloom that never fades, A Rose no storms can sever, Beyond the Tulip's gaudy shades, The ray that beams for ever. There is a charm surpassing art, A charm in every feature, That twines around the feeling heart, It is thy voice, oh Nature ! Then, stranger, if thou fain wouldst find This Rose no storm can se\ er, Go seek it, stranger, in the Mind — The ray that beams forever. THE KISS. Words by Byron. — Music by Nathan. The kiss, dear maid, thy lips have left, Shall never part from mine, Till happier hours restore the gift Untainted back to thine. The parting glance that fondly gleams, An equal love may see, The tear that from the eyelid streams Can weep rto change in me. The kiss, &c. I ask no pledge to make me blest, in gazing when alone ; singer's own book. 79 Nor one memorial for a breast, Whose thoughts are all thine own. By day or night, in weal or woe, That heart no longer free, Must bear the love it cannot show. And silent ache for thee. The kiss, &c. THE LILY OF FRANCE. Let the banner of France be unfurl'd, Fair and bright as the forehead of day, Tho' defiance it bade to the world, Her knighthood would spring to the fray; Like shaft from the cross-bow that bounds, Speeds each youth, gaily couching his lance And through legions one war-cry resounds, ' I fight lor the lily of France !' My faith proudly vouch'd by my blood, Let fate strike me young on my bier, I'd smile upon life's ebbing flood, If enrich'd but by woman's fond tear. Form of beauty, beam thou o'er my side, And Death should like triumph advance, Oh, glory ! Oh, soul-cheering pride — * I die for the lily of France !' THE HARP THAT ONCE THRO' TARA'S HALLS. Air,— Gramachree. The harp that once thro' Tara's halls, The soul of music shed, Now hangs as mute on Tara's walls As if that soul were fled. So sleeps the pride of fonner days, So glory's thrill is o'er; And hearts that once beat high for praise Now feel that pulse no more 80 THE AMERICAN No more to chiefs and ladies bright, The harp of Tara swells ; The chord alone, that breaks at night, Its tale of ruin tells. Thus freedom now so seldom wakes ; The only throb she gives, Is when some heart indignant breaks, To show that still she lives. THE TROUBADOUR. Glowing with love, on fire for fame, A Troubadour, that hated sorrow, Beneath his lady's window came, And thus he su.ig his last good-morrow :- " My arm it is my country's right, My heart is in my true-love's bower ; Gaily for love and lame to fight, Befits the gallant Troubadour." And while he march'd, with helm on head And harp in hand, the descant rung, As faithful to his favourite maid, The minstrel-burthen still he sung ; " My arm it is my country's right, My heart is in my lady's bower ; Resolved for love and fame to fight, I come, a gallant Troubadour." Even when the battle-roar was deep With dauntless heart he hew'd his way, Mid splintering lance and falchion-sweep, And still was heard his warrior lay ; " My life it is my country's right, My heart is m my lady's bower ; For love to die, for fame to fight, Becomes the valiant Troubadour." Alas! upon the bloody field He fell beneath the foeman's glaive, But still, reclining on his shield, Expiring sung the exulting stave: singer's own book. 81 " My life it is my country's right, !y heart is in my lady's bower; For love and fame "to fall in fight Becomes the valiant Troubadour." THE BONNY BOAT. Oil swiftly glides the bonny boat, Just parted from the shore, And to the fishers' chorus note, the dipping oar ; Their toils are borne with happy cheer, And ever may they speed, That feeble age, and helpmate dear, And tender bairnies feed. We cast our lines in Largo bay, Our nets are floating wide, Our bonny boat with yielding sway Rocks lightly on the tide ; And happy prove its daily lot Upon the summer sea, And blest on land our kindly cot, Where ail our treasures be. We cast our lines in Largo bay, &c. The mermaid on her rock may sing, The witch may weave her charm, But water sprite nor eldrich thing The bonny boat can harm ; It safely bears its scaly store Through many a stormy gale, While joyful shouts rise from the shore, Its homeward prow to hail. We cast our lines in Largo bay, &c TOLL NOT THE BELL OF DEATH FOR ME. Toll not the bell of death for me, When I am dead : Strew not the flowery wreath o'er me. On mv cold bed. F 82 THE AMERICA* Let friendship's sacred tear, On my fresh grave appear, Gemming with pearls my bier — When I am dead. No dazzling proud array Of pageantry display, My fate to spread. Let not the busy crowd be near When I am dead, Fanning with unfelt sighs my bier, Sighs quickly sped. Deep let the impression rest On some fond female breast ; Then were my memory blest When I am dead. Let not the day be writ ; Love will remember it, Untold — unsaid THE SOLDIER'S LAST SIGH. Written by E. L> Bellchambers. — Music by G. A. Hod son. The trumpet may summon thy soldier away, And 3pur his proud spirit to arms, Yet warm with the vigour that bids him away, He grieves to abandon thy charms ; Tho' glory invite him, and splendor abound, Yet mark, dearest maid, his decree, Subdued by defeat, or by victory crown'd,. The soldier's last sigh, is for thee. But hark ! 'tis the trumpet now speaks his adieu, And calls him from lave to renown, Then oh ! dearest maiden, believe his heart true, Tho' fortune may smile or may frown i Tho' glory invite him, &c. singer's own book. 83 THE PILOT. Oh, Pilot! 'tis a fearful night, There's danger on the deep, I'll come and pace the deck with thee, I do not dare to sleep. Go down ! the sailor cried, go down, This is no place for thee ; Fear not! but trust in Providence, Wherever thou mayst be. Ah '. pilot, dangers often met, We all are apt to slight, And thou hast known These raging waves But to subdue their might. It is not apathy, he cried, That gives this strength to me: Fear not ! but trust in Providence, Wherever thou may's! be. On such a night the sea engulph'd My Father's lifeless form ; My only brother's boat went down In just so wild a storm ; And such, perhaps, may be my fate, — But still I say to thee, Fear not! but trust in Providence, Wherever thou mayst be. DIAVOLO. On yonder rock reclining, That fierce and swarthy form behold! Fast his hands his carbine hold — 'Tis his best friend of old ! This way his steps inclining, His scarlet plume waves o'er his brow, And his velvet cloak hangs low, Playing in graceful flow I 84 THE AMERICAN Tremble! E'en while the storm is beating, Afar hear echo repeating, Diavolo! Diavoio! Diavolo! " Altho' his foes waylaying, He fights with rage and hate combin'd ; Towards the gentle fair they find He's ever mild and kind : The maid too heedless straying. (For one, we Pietro's daughter know,) Home returns full sad and slow, What can have made her so? Tremble ! Each one the maiden meeting, Is sure to be repeating, Diavolo! Diavolo! Diavolo! Perchance all are mistaken, Dear maid, in what they tell to you , And whate'er is lost 'tis true He may have stolen too. Suspicions oft awaken, As many a guiltless swain may know ; While he alone who caused tneir woe Passes incognito — Tremble ! For in this sighing lover Each eye may surely discover, Diavolo! Diavolo! Diavolo! HERE'S A HEALTH, BONNIE SCOTLAND, TO THEE. Here's a health to fair Scotland, the land of the brave, Here's a health to the bold and the free, And as long as the thistle and heather shall wave, Here's a health, bonnie Scotland, to thee. Here's to the land of victorious Bruce, And the champions of liberty's cause, And may their example fresh heroes produce, In defence of our rights and our laws. Here's a health, &c. singer's own book. 85 (lore's a health to the land where brave Wallace unfuri'd His bright banner of conquest and fame, The terror of fberaen, the pride ot the world; Long may Scotland hold clearly ids name. And still like their fathers, our brothers are true, And their valour with pleasure we see, Of the wreaths that were won at rcnown'd Waterloo, Here's a bough of the laurel for thee. Here's a health, &c. Here's success to the land where fair liberty grows May her sons still in harmony twine, And should wily discord again interpose, Let us challenge each other in wine. For while we're united, foes threaten in vain ; And their daring, our fame shall increase, Till the banner of victory, o'er land and main, Triumphant is waving in peace. Then here's a health, &c AWAY, MY BOUNDING STEED, AWAY Away, my bounding steed, away, I ride for princely halls ; Aye, paw the ground and proudly neigh, The tourney trumpet calls. Nay spur and speed, thou gallant knight, Or lose the meed of fame ; Vouch in the lists thy lady's right, And conquer in her name. The challenge breath'd, I cast my glove ; All rivals thus I dare ; In arms I'll prove my lady-love The fairest of the fair. Now poise the temper'd lance on high- It shivers on my shield — Then forth two flashing rapiers fly, And skill decides the field. 86 THE AMERICAN The joust is done, the prize is won, And merry is the victor's eye ; Pass wine-cups round, while clarions sound The joys of love and chivalry. COME, LOVE, TO ME. Oh ! sweetly trie noon day is ending; Evening now sending Charms o'er the sea. 'Neath the window I would hear thee Singing near me, Come, love, to me. Oh ! sweetly the night stars are weeping; All are now sleeping O'er wave and o'er lea. From the mountain, Sure 1 hear thee Singing near me, Come, love, to me. Oh ! darker the night is growing, Deeper throwing Shades soon to flee Now I see thee, Now I hear thee Singing near me, Come, love, to me. THE LIGHT GUITAR. Sung by Madame Feron. Oh ! leave the gay and festive scene, The halls, lhe halls of dazzling light, And rove with me through forests green Beneath the silent night. singer's own book. 87 Then as we watch the ling'ring rays That shine from every stat, I'll nng the song of happier days, And ■tlike die light guitar. I'll tell thee how the maiden wept, When her true knight was slain; And how her broken spirit slept, And never woke again. I'll teU thee how the steed drew nigh, And left bis lord afar, But if my tale should make tliee sigh, I'll strike the light guitar. ANSWER TO -THE LIGHT GUITAR Yes ! I will leave the festive scene, The gay and courtly throng, To wander through the forests green, And listen to thv sons:. T^he waters like a mirror seem, For every beaming star,* "^hen haste to yonder silent stream And strike the light guitar. And when thou te.H'st of one, whose tears Were shed for her true knight, Bethink thee, of thy maiden's fears _ When thou wert in the light — Nor longer brave the battle plain, Nor roam from me afar. But sing hope's long forgotten strain. And strike the light guitar. MALTESE BOATMAN'S SONG. ftee, brothers, see, how the night comes on, Slowly sinks the setting sun, (Convent 1>ett) Hark ! how the solemn vespers soured Sweetly ialls upon the ear- THE AMERICAN Then haste, let us work till the daylight is o'er, And fold our net as we row to the shore — Our toil of labour being o'er, How sweet the boatman's welcome home ! Home, home, home! the boatman's welcome home! Sweet ! oh, sweet ! the boatman's welcome home I See, how the tints of daylight die, Soon we'll hear the tender sigh ; For when the toil of labour's o'er, We shall meet our friends on shore. Then haste, let us work till the daylight is o*er, And fold our nets as we row to the shore ; For fame or gold howe'er we roam, No sound so sweet as welcome home! Home, home &c. &c. WE MET! We met ! 'twas in a crowd, and I thought he would shun me ; He came ! I could not breathe, for his eye was upon me! He spoke ! his words were cold, and his smile was unalter'd ; I knew how much he felt, for his deep-toned voice falter'd. I wore my bridal robe, and I rivalled its whiteness ; Bright gems were in my hair, how I hated their brightness ! He call'd me by my name, as the bride of another; Oh ! thou hast been the cause of this anguish — my mother ! And once again we met, and a fair girl was near him ; He smil'd and whisper'd low, as I once used to hear him; She leant upon his arm — once 'twas mine and mine only ! I wept ! — for I deserv'd to feel wretched and lonely singer's own rook. 89 And she will bo his bride! fit the altar, he'll eiye her The love that was Uh) pure for a heartless deceiver. The world may think me gay, for my feelings 1 smother; Oh ! thou hast been the cause of this anguish — my mother ! BE MINE, DEAR MAID. Sung by Mr Sinclair. Be mine, dear maid, this faithful heart Can never prove untrue ; Twere easier far with life to part, Than cease to live for you. My soul, gone forth from this lone breast, Lives only, love, in thine; There is its holy home of rest, Its dear, its chosen shrine. Then turn thee not away, my dear Oh, turn thee not away, love ; For by the light of truth I swear, To love thee night and day, love Tis not mine eye thy beauty loves, Mine ear thy tuneful voice; But 'tis my heart thy heart approves, A life-enduring choice. The lark shall first forget to sing, When morn unfolds the east, Ere I by change or coldness wring Thy fond confiding breast. Then turn, &c. f SEE THEM ON THEIR WINDING WAY. I -see them on their winding way, About their ranks the moonbeams play; Their lofty deeds, and daring high, Blend with the notes of victory ; 90 THE AMERICAN And waving arms, and banners bright, Are glancing in the mellow light. They're lost and gone — the moon is past, The wood's dark shade is o'er them cast, And fainter, fainter, fainter -still, The march is rising o'er the hill. I see them, &c. &c Again, again, the pealing drum. The clashing horn — they come, they come, Through rocky pass, o'er wooded steep, In long and glittering files they sweep.; And nearer, nearer, yet more near, Their soften'd chorus meets the ear. Forth, forth, and meet them on their way, The trampling hoofs brook no delay; With thrilling fife, and pealing drum, And clashing horn — they come, they come. I .see them, &e. &c. I SHOULD VERY MUCH LIKE TO KNOW Sung by Miss Love* As I walked last night, In the dim twilight, Some one whisper'd soft and low, Whisper'd soft and low ; ** What pretty girl is she ? I wish she would fancy me." Now whoever this could be, I should very much like to know, I should very, &a Last Valentine's day, Came a letter so gay, With hearts above, around and below. With hearts above and below. M Oh ! I love you, dearest maid, But to tell you I'm afraid." I should very much like to know, i" should very much like to know. ixger'r own book. 01 Whoever il was raid so, I should very much like to know, I should very much like to know. A gipsy in the wood Said, she'd tell me something good, For his name began with an O, His name began with an O, And he'd surely marry me, For it was his destiny. Now whoever this can be, I should very much like to know, I should very much like to know, Whose name it begins with an O, I should very much like to know, I should very much like to know. THE HAPPY SWISS BOY. Come over the mountains, my bonny Swiss boy, And haste to thy labour away. Come over, &e. And haste, &c. The sun now shows his rosy beams, The flocks are hasting to the streams, Come over, &c. And haste, &c. You will find me, you'll find me a happy Swiss bov As I trip o'er the hills, far away, You will find, &c. As I trip, &c. And while I watch my flocks and herds, And listen to the warbling birds, You will find, &c. As I trip, &c. 92 THE AMERICAN A SOLDIER'S GRATITUDE. Whate'er mv fate, where'er I roam. By sorrow still oppress'd, I'll ne'er forget the peaceful home That gave the wanderer rest. Then ever rove life's sunny banks, By sweetest flow'rets strew'd ; Still may you claim a soldier's thanks, A soldier's gratitude. The tender sigh, the balmy tear, That meek-eyed pity gave, My last expiring hour shall cheer, And bless the wanderer's grave. Then ever rove, &c. ROSABEL. Wake ! maiden, wake ! the moon is benighted, Come, then, and rove with me : There, on the spot w?iere our hearts we first plighted, Let our last adieu be. Rosabel, Rosabel, Rosabel, Ah me ! There, oft my eyes on thy smiles have delighted, And there would take leave of thee. Oh ! smile, though thou smilest in sorrow. Far from thee shall I be on the morrow ! Rosabel, Rosabel, Rosabel, Ah me ! BUY MY ROSES. Come, buy my little roses red, Come, buy my roses red ; Born and nurs'd in Cupid's bed, Nurs'd in Cupid's bed. singer's own book. 93 Cupid, little god of love, Wand'ring through the rosy grove, Met and wod'd me, ah, 'tis true, Then pity, while I ehaunt to you. Come buy my roses red, Come buy my roses red, Born and nurs'd in Cupid's bed, Come buy my roses red. There is a tear on yonder leaf, A tear on yonder leaf, I/we fain would mark for maiden's grief, Would mark for maiden's grief; For sure when rosy morn appears, It melts as do my lover's fears : Thus Cupid wept for me, 'tis true, Then pity while I ehaunt to you. Come buy my roses, &c. &c. &c CHERRY RIPE. Cherry ripe, ripe, I cry, Full and fair ones, come and buy. If so be you ask me where They do grow, I answer, There, Where my Julia's lips do smile, There's the land, or cherry isle. Cherry ripe, ripe, I cry, Full and fair ones, come and buy ; There plantations, fully show, All the year, where cherries grow. Cherry ripe, ripe, I cry, Full and fair ones, come and buy. GOOD NIGHT. Give me, my love, before we part, One tender kiss of dear delight ; And all the friendship we have sworn, Confirm in this our last Good night. 94 THE AMERICAN Now, on yon soft and swelling main, My little bark, so gay and light, Prepares to tear me from thy breast, My life, my love, Good night! And when on lone and distant shores I wander, by the moon's pale light, In rncm'ry of our former loves, I think on thee, and this Good night. OH ! AM I THEN REMEMBERED. Oh ! am I then remembered still ? Remembered too by thee ! Or am I quite forgot by one Whom I no more shall see ? Yet say not so, for that would add Fresh anguish to my lot. I dare not hope to be recall'd — Yet would not be forgot Had they who parted us but known How hearts like ours can feel, They would have spared us both a pang Beyond their power to heal. I know not if thy heart retains Its wonted warmth or not : Though I'm forbid to think of thee — Thou'lt never be forgot. May'st thou enjoy that peace of mind* Which I can never know ; If that's denied, my prayer shall be, That I may share thy wo. Where'er thou art, my every wish Will linger o'er that spot ; My every thought will be of thee, Though I may be forgot. If we should meet in after years, Thou'lt find that I am changed : si\<;nit r s own book. 95 Mv eyes grown dim, my cheek grown pale, fent not my faith estranged. From memory' e the hand of death Alone thy Dame ^l»;ill blot ; Forget, forsake mo, if thou wilt — Thou'll never be forgot. PRETTY MOCKING BIRD. living echo, bird of eve, Hush thy walling, cease to grieve; Feather'd warbler, wake the grove, To songs of joy. to notes of love : Pretty mocking bird, thy form I see Swinging with the breeze on the mangrove tree. THE ORIGIN OF OLD BACHELORS, OR WHAT'S AN OLD BACHELOR LIKE ? Dame Nature one day, in a comical mood, While mixing the mould to make man, Was struck with a thought as the ingredients she view'd, To alter a little her plan. Her children she knew, were much given to rove So temp'ring the clay with great art, She sparingly threw in the soft seeds of love, That usually spring round the heart, — But she quickly repented, though too late it is true. For a fusty old bachelor stood lbrth to view ; Yes, an old bachelor, a fusty old bachelor. What's an old bachelor like ? why, I'll tell you -an old bachelor is like — is like — A tree without a branch, A buck without a haunch, A knife without a fork, A bottle without a cork, A key without a lock, A wig without a block. 96 THE AMERICAN Thus you see, my good friends, what a whimsical creature Was form'd in a frolic, by old madam Nature. The world ever since has been teased by these creatures, Well known by their stiffs formal strut ; Their dull, down cast look, crabbed, vinegar fea- tures, And dress of true bachelor cut The bright blaze of beauty can't warm their old clay : Disliked by maid, widow and wife, In a kind of half stupour, the days pass away Of these blanks in the lottery of life. Thus curtail'd of pleasure — a stranger to love, The fusty old bachelor's destined to rove : Yes, the old bachelor, the fusty old bachelor. What's an old bachelor like ? why, A ship without a sail, A cat without a tail, Cellar without the wine O, Purse without the rhino, A watch without a chain, A skull without the brain. Thus you see, &c &c. &c. &c. Now mark ! if the sexes in number agree, As some queer philosophers think (Full many a damsel's soft heart I foresee, At this part of my story would sink) ; As two wives at once men are here not allowed Unless their suit parliament aids; And as bachelors stupid our streets daily crowd, It follows — there must be old maids. Thus we get from the smoke nearly into the smother, For one evil treads fast on the heels of another. Oh ! fie on all bachelors ! all flinty-hearted bachelors! What's an old bachelor like ? why, A bell without a clapper, A door without a rapper, singer's own book. 97 A drum without a fife, Butcher without a knife, Sun without the moon, Dish without the swoon. Thus you see, &c. &.c. &c. &c. PRAY, GOODY. Sung by Mr Sinclair. Pray, Goody, please to moderate the rancour of your tongue, Why flub those sparks of fury from your eyes ? Remember, when the judgment's weak, the prejudice is strong, A stranger why will you despise ? Ply me, try me, Prove, ere you deny me, If you cast me off you blast me, never more to rise ! Pray, Goody, &c. EVEN AS THE SUN. Even as the sun — the sun wi' purple coloured face Had ta'en his last leave — his last leave of the weep- ing morn ; Had ta'en his last leave, &c. Whilst Venus' anthem still concludes in woe, And still the choir of echoes answer so. And still, &c. Even as the sun — the sun wi' purple coloured face, Had ta'en his last leave — his last leave of the weep ing morn : Rose-cheeked Adonis hied him to the chase — Hunting he loved, but love he laugh 'd to scorn- Even as the sun, &c. G 93 THE AMERICAN MARIAN RAMSAY. Sung by Mrs Knight. I am Marian Ramsay, from Scotland I come — All adown the green vale, where the violets are springing, And much I should grieve from dear Scotland to part, But I'm come to the south, sir, to get a sweetheart, With my fal, la, la, la, v/hile the birds are a singing They say, that my relation is a mighty odd man, All away from the dale where the violets are spring Tis you, sir, I'm sure, for the truth to reveal, As we say in the north, you're a comical chieL With my fal, la, &c. So get me a sweetheart, and bid me good bye, All away to the dale where the violets are springing If the bonnie lad's willing, I'm now in my prime, And sure 'tis a pity to lose any time. With my fal, la, &c. THE MOUNTAIN MAID The mountain maid from her bower has hied, And sped to the glassy river's side,. Wriere the radiant moon shone clear and bright,. And the willows waved in the silver light; On a mossy bank lay a shepherd swain, He woke his pipe to a tuneful strain, And so blithely gay were the notes he play'd, That he charm'd the ear of the mountain maid. She siopp'd, with timid fear oppress'd, While a soft sigh swells her gentle breast, He caught her glance and mark'd her sigh*. And triumph laugh'd in his sparkling eye* sinoer's own book. 90 So softly sweet was his tuneful ditty, He charm'd her tender soul to pity, And so blithely gay were the notes he play'd, That he gain'd the heart of the mountain maid. BRUCE'S ADDRESS. Sung by Mr Sbiclair. Scots, wha hae w i' Wallace bled Scots, wham Bruce has aften led ! Welcome to your gory bed, Or to glorious victory! Now's the day, and now's the hour! See the front of battle lower! See approach proud Edward's power! Edward ! chains and slavery ! Wha will be a traitor knave ? Wha would (111 a coward's grave? Wha sae base as be a slave ? Traitor ! coward ! turn and flee. Wha for Scotland's king and law Freedom's sword will strongly draw Freeman stand, or freeman tal Caledonian! on wi' me! By oppression's woes and pains ! By your sons in servile chains ! We will drain our dearest veins, But they shall be, shall be free ! Lay the proud usurpers low ! Tyrants fall in every foe! Liberty's in every blow! Forward ! let us do, or die ! THOU ART GONE AWA. Thou art gone awa, thou'rt gone aw a, Thou'rt gone awa from me, Mary ; Nor friends nor I could make thee stay ; Thou hast cheated them and me. M»rv 100 THE AMERICAN Until this hour I never thought, That aught could alter thee, Mary; Thou art still the mistress of my heart, Think what thou wilt of me, Mary. Whate'er he said, or might pretend, That stole that heart of thine, Mary; Truw love, I'm sure, was ne'er his end, Or no such love as mine, Mary. I spoke sincere, nor flatter'd much ; Had no unworthy thoughts, Mary ; Ambition, wealth, nor neathin' such; I loved thee for thyself, Mary. Though you've been false, yet whilst I live. No other maid I'll woo, Mary; Till friends forget, and I forgive, Thy wrongs to them, and me, Mary So then, farewell ! of this, be sure, Since you've been false to me, Mary ; For all the world I'd not endure, The half I've done for thee, Mary! LOVE FROM THE HEART Sung by Madame Vesfris. Yes, I will leave my father's halls To roam along with thee ; Adieu, adieu, my native walls, To other scenes I flee. Yes, we will seek the silent glade, When we have stray'd afar, And you shall play, my dearest maid, Songs on your light guitar. Love, gentle love, shall be our guide To a far distant land, And whether bliss or wo betide, This heart you shall command. singer's own book. 101 I'll tell you tiles of olden years — Of hapless love or war; But should they cause you pearly tears, Then sound the gay guitar. CHUNDAH'S SONG. A heart that once has loved like mine, No other love can know ! A heart that once has throbb'd with thine, Must other love forego. One dear embrace, and then we part, We part to meet no more ; I bear a sad and lonely heart, To pine on India's shore. In foreign climes, when all is still, Save this poor beating heart, I'll think upon the distant ill That caused me to depart. A DAMSEL STOOD TO WATCH TIIE FIGHT A damsel stood to watch the fight, On the banks of Kingslea Mere, And they brought to her feet her own true knight Sore wounded on a bier. O, let not, he said, while yet I live, The cruel foe me take, But with thy lips one sweet kiss give, And cast me in the lake. About his neck she wound her arms, And she kiss'd his lips so pale, And evermore the war's alarms Came loudly up the vale. She drew him to the lake's deep side, Where the red heath fringed the shore; She plunged with him beneath the tide, And they were seen no more. 102 THE AMERICAN SWISS HUNTER'S WELCOME HOME. While the hunter o'er the mountain, at daybreak is bounding, By the wild rilly fountain, the chamois descries ; Through the mist of the morning, his halloo resound ing, Every fear nobly scorning, still onward he flies. When the hunter o'er the mountain, At daybreak is bounding, By the wild rilly fountain, The chamois descries, the chamois, &c. He tracks in the snow print, the flight of the ranger He brushes the dew-tint, where cataracts foam ; The hunter pursuing, surmounts every danger, The swift chase renewing, till night calls him home. When the hunter o'er the mountain, At daybreak is bounding, In search of the chamois, Unwearied he flies, unwearied he flies. From the toils of the chase, the bold hunter returning, With joy views his cot in the valley below. When the hunter o'er the mountain, from the chase is returning, To his cot near the fountain, with rapture he flies. Then content in his cottage, While gently reposing, From woman's bright smile Meets a sweet welcome home, a sweet, &c. MARSEILLES HYMN OF LIBERTY. Ye sons of Freedom, wake to glory ! Hark ! hark ! what myriads bid you rise, Your children, wives, and grandsires hoary, Behold their tears and hear their cries. SINGER S OWN BOOK. 103 Shall hateful tyrants, mischiefs breeding, With hireling hosts, a ruffian band, Affright and (Isolate the land, While peaes and liberty lie bleeding? To arms ! to arms ! ye brave ! Th' avenging sword unsheath: March on, march on, all hearts resolv'd, On victory or death. Now, now, the dangerous storm is rolling, Which treacherous kings confederate raise, The dogs of war, let loose, are howling, And lo ! our fields and cities blaze. And shall we basely view the ruin, While lawless force with guilty stride, Spreads desolation far and wide, With crimes and blood his hands embruinjsr To arms ! to arms ! ye brave, &c With luxury and pride surrounded, The vile insatiate despots dare, Their thirst of power and gold unbounded, To mete and vend the light and air. Like beasts of burden would they load us, Like gods would bid their slaves adore, But man is man, and who is more ? Then shall they longer lash and goad us ? To arms ! to arms ! ye brave, &c Oh ! Liberty, can man resign thee, Once having felt thy generous flame ? Can dungeons, bolts, and bars confine thee ? Or whips thy noble spirit tame ? Too long the world has wept, bewailing That falsehood's dagger tyrants wield, But freedom is our sword and shield, /Lnd all their arts are unavailing. To arms ! to arms ! ye brave, &c 104 THE AMERICAN THE BRIDEGROOM. The bridegroom at the altar's side Devotedly is kneeling; His heart, the throne of manly pride, Beats high with blissful feeling : And near him, like some gentle How'r, Whose lovely form is blending With one beside it in the bow'r, The bride is meekly bending. Upon her hand the ring is plac'd, The sure, tho' simple token, Of love that cannot be effac'd, 'Till life's frail chain is broken : For time shall have no pow'r to part, The vows they now have plighted, As hand to hand, so heart to heart, For ever is united. He looks upon that fair one's brow, INew hopes illume his bosom ; May ev'ry bud that's cherish'd now Soon ripen into blossom: There kneel the bridegroom and the bride Each heart new joys possessing, Whilst at the sacred altar's side, The pastor breathes his blessing. THE SAILOR'S TEAR. He leap'd into his boat, As it lay upon the strand ; But oh ! his heart was far away, With his friends upon the land ; He thought of those he lov'd the best, A wife and infant dear, And feeling fill'd the sailor's breast. The sailor's eye a tear. smant'fl own book. 105 They stood upon the far-off cl iff, And wav'd a kerchief white, An«I raz'd ujhhi his gallant bark, Till she was out of sight: The sailor cast a look behind, No longer saw them near, Then rais'd the canvas to his eye, And wiped away a tear. Ere long, o'er ocean's blue expanse His sturdy bark had sped ; The gallant aailor from her prow, Descries a sail ahead ; And then he rais'd his mighty arm, Columbia's foes were near; Ay, then he rais'd his arm, but not To wipe away a tear. NOW AT MOONLIGHT'S FAIRY HOUR. A Duet. — Composed by Thos. Thomson. Now at moonlight's fain/ hour, When faintiy gleams each dewy steep, And vale and mountain, lake and bower, In solitary grandeur sleep. When slowly sinks the ev'ning breeze, That lulls the mind in pensive ease, And fancy loftier visions sees, Bid Music w ake the silent air. Bid the merry tabour sound, And with the lays of lawTi or glade In tripling circlets beat the ground, Under the high trees' trembling shade. Now at moonlight's fairy hour, Shall music breathe her dulcet voice, And o'er the waves with magic power, Call on echo to rejoice. 106 THE AMERICAN THE MOTHER. Look on that brow — a playful smile, Affection's ray of light, Makes even beauty's self appear, More beautiful and bright. If ever heaven o'er the earth, In all its splendour smil'd, 'Tis now, the mother's eager arra Enfolds her first-born child. She glances back to other days, When she herself was young, And helpless as the infant form, On which her hopes are hung. *Tis but a dream of yesterday, The bud soon bursts to now'r, The flow'r expands, the blossom fades, 'Tis so with childhood's hour. How T many anxious thoughts have birth, Within the mother's breast ! How many fears, then hopes, burst forth, To lull 'them into rest! She prays that thro' life's varied scenes, That child may still remain, In virtue's path, the faithful link Of love and friendship's chain. THE SECRET OF SINGLNG. By B. Cornwall Lady^, sing no more ! Science all is vain, Till the heart be touch'd, lady. And give forth its nam. singer's own book. 107 'Tis a hidden lyre, Cherish'd near the sun, O'er whose witching wire, lady, Fairy lingers run. Pity comes in tears, From her home above, Hope, and sometimes fears, lady, And the wizard, — Love ! Each doth search the heart, To its inmost springs, And when they depart, lady, Then the Spirit sings ! THE LAST LINK IS BROKEN. POPULAR DUET. Words by Mr. Clifton. — Music from Mozt rt The last link is broken that bound rne to thee, And the words thou hast spoken have render eu mo free ; That bright glance, misleading, on others may •huae, Those eyes smiled unheeded when tears burst from mine If my leve >jas deemed boldness, tbs.i e.ror is o'er, I've vrilressed thy coldnp'^, arid prize th^e ro more, Ob ! I have not loved lightly, I'll think on thee yet And pray for thee nightly, till life's sun hath set. THE SUN THAT LIGHTS THE ROSES. Words by Moncrieff. Thougb dimpled cheeks may give the light, Where rival beauties blossom, Though balmy lips to love invite To ecstasy the bosom ; Vet sweeter far yon summer sky, Whose blushing tint discloses, 108 THE AMERICAN Give me the lustre-beaming eye, The son that lights the roses. The voice of love is soft and clear, Exciting fond emotion ; How sweet it sounds upon the ear, Like music on the ocean ; Yet dearer far to lover's sight, The eye that truth discloses, Surpassing with its splendour bright, The sun that lights the roses. COME LISTEN TO MY SONG. Come listen to my song, my love, 'Twill not offend thine ear, The moon is beaming bright above, Thou hast no cause of fear. I'll sing of lovers brave and true, If" thou wilt list to me, I'll sing the charms of ladies fair, But none so fair as thee. Then listen, &c. I'll sing of beauty, love and fame ; Of love in distant climes ; I'll sing of eyes so blue and bright, But none so bright as thine. Then listen to my song, my love, For thou art dear to me, And while there beams a light above, I'll sing of love and thee. Then listen, &c. LOVE'S RITORNELLA. A Duet. He. — Gentle Zitella, whither away? Love's ritornella, list while I play. She. — No. I have lingered too long on my road, Night is advancing, the brigand's abroad ! singer's own book. 109 Lonely Zitella has too much to fear; Love's ritornella she may not hear. He. — Charming Zitella, why shouldst thou care, Night is not darker than thy raven hair! And those bright eyes, if the brigand should see Thou art the robber, the captive is he! ( lentle Zitella, banish thy iear, Love's ritornella, tarry and hear. She. — Simple Zitella, beware, ah beware! List ye no ditty, grant ye no prayer. He. — To your light footsteps let terror add wings ' 'Tis Massaroni himself who now sings! Gentle Zitella, banish thy fear! Love's ritornella, tarry and hear ! SHE NEVER BLAMED HIM, NEVER. She never blam'd him. never, But received him when he came, With a welcome kind as ever, And she tried to look the same ! But vainly did she dissemble, For whene'er she'd try to smile, A tear, unbidden, trembled In her blue eye all the while. She knew T that she was dying, And she dreaded not her doom, She never thought of sighing O'er her beauty's blighted bloom! She knew her cheek was alter'd, And she knew her eye was dim, But her sweet voice only falfer'd, WTien she spoke oi" losing him 'Tis true, that he had lur'd her From the isle where she was born , Tis true, he liad inured her, To the cold world's cruel acorn : 110 THE AMERICAN But yet she never blam'd him, For the anguish she had known, And though she seldom named him, Yet she thought of him alone. She sigh'd when he caress'd her, For she knew that they must part, She spoke not, when he press'd her To his young and panting heart ! The banners wav'd around her, And she heard the bugle's sound ; They pass'd — and strangers found her Cold, and lifeless on the ground ? SOLDIER'S TEAR. Upon the hill he turn'd, to take a last fond look At the valley, and the village church, and the cot- tage by the brook ; He listen'd to the sounds so familiar to his ear, And the soldier lean'd upon his sword, and wiped away a tear. Beside that cottage porch, a girl was on her knees, She held aloft a snowy scarf, which flutter'd in the breeze : She breath'd a prayer for him, a prayer he could'nt hear; But he paused to bless her as she knelt, and wiped away a tear ? He turn'd and left the spot, Oh ! do not deem hire weak, For dauntless was the soldier's heart, though tears were on his cheek ? Go watch the foremost ranks, in danger's dark career, Be sure the hand most daring there, has wiped away a tear ? singer's own book. Ill HERE WE MEET TOO SOON TO PART. Here we meet too soon to part ; Here to leave will raise a smart; Here I'll press thee to my heart, Where none have place above thee. Here I vow to love thee well ; Could but words unseal the spell, Had but language strength to tell, I'd say how much I love thee! Here the rose that decks thy door; Here the thorn that spreads thy bower; Here the willow on the moor; The birds at rest above thee ; Had they light of life to see Sense of soul, like thee and me, Soon might each a witness be, How doatingly 1 love thee ! OH! NO, I'LL NEVER MENTION HIM. Oh! no, I'll never mention him, His name is never heard ; Mv lips are now forbid to speak That once familiar word. From sport to sport they hurry me, To banish my regret ; And when thev win a smile from me, They think that I forget. They bid me seek in change cf scene, The charms that others see; But were I in a foreign land, They'd find no change in me. Tis true that I behold no more, The valley where we met; I do not see that hawthorn tree* Eut how can I forget ? 112 THE AMERICAN They tell me he is happy now, The gayest of the gay ; Thcv hint that he forgets his vow, But I heed not what they say : Like me perhaps he struggles With each feeling of regret: But if he loves as I have loved, ' He never can forget. LET US HASTE TO KELVIN GROVE. Let us haste to Kelvin grove, bonnie lassie, O, Through its mazes let us rove, bonnie lassie, O, Where the rose in all its pride, Paints the hollow dingle side, Where the midnight fairies glide, bonrxe lassie, O. We will wander by the mill, bonnie lassie, O, To the cove, beside the rill, bcnnie lassie, O, Where the glens rebound the call Of the lofty water-fall, Through the mountain's rocky hall, bonnie lassie, O Then we'll up to yonder glade, bonnie lassie, O, Where so oft beneath its shade, bonnie lassie, O With the songsters in the grove, We have told our tale of love, And have sportive garlands wove, bonnie lassie, O. But I soon must bid adieu, bonnie lassie, O, To this fairy scene and you, bonnie lassie, O, To the streamlet winding clear, To the fragrant scented briar, Even to thee, of all most dear, bonnie lassie, O. And when on a distant shore, bonnie lassie, O, Should I fall 'midst battle's roar, bonnie lassie, O. Wilt thou, Eilen. when you hear Of thy lover on his bier, To his mem'ry shed a tear, bonnie lassie, O ? singer's own book. 113 MY BONNIE LASS, NOW TURN TO ME. Mv bonnie lass, now turn to me, And gie a smile to cheer me, An honest heart I'll gie to thee, For in truth I love thee dearly. Come, o'er the heather we'll trip together, All in the morning early, With heart and hand, I'll by thee stand. For in truth I love thee dearly. Come, o'er the heather we'll trip together, I heed neither mother nor father nor brother, With heart and hand, I'll by thee stand, For in truth I love thee dearly. There's many a lass I love full well, And many who love me dearly, But there's ne'er a one, except thysel', That I e'er could love sincerely. Come o'er the heather, &c. ALL THE BLUE BONNETS ARE OVER THE BORDER. March, march, Ettrick and Teviotdale ! Why, my lads, dinna ye march forward in order ? March, march, Eskdale and Liddesdale ! All the blue bonnets are over the border . Many a banner spread, Flutters above your head, Many a crest that is famous in story ; Mount, and make ready, then, Sons of the mountain-glen, Fight for your king, and the old Scottish border. March, march, Ettrick, on we find. 132 THE AMERICAN When weeded, soon it kindly blows, And every sweet displays, With charms as blooming as the rose, The pride of summer days. With charms, &c. Or, like the modest Julian flower, That blooms alone at night; But sweetens then each blissful hour, Beyond the charms of light. Though tulips may of charms possess The rarest of the rare, The sweet two-hps I love to press Are those which grace the fair. The sweet two- lips, &c THE RED-CROSS KNIGHT. Blow, warder, blow! thy sounding horn, And thy banner wave on high, for the Christians have fought in the Holy Land. And have won the victory V Loud, loud the warder blew his horn, And his banner wav'd on high — Let the mass be sung, and the bells be rung, And the feast, the feast eat merrily.' The warder look'd from the tower on high, As far as he could see ; I see a bold knight, and by his red cross, He comes from the East country.' Then loud the warder blew his horn, And call'd till he was hoarse, 1 1 see a bold knight, and on his shield bright, He beareth a flaming cross.' Then down the lord of the castle came, The red-cross knight to meet; And when the red-cross knight he espied, Right loving he did him greet. singer's own book. 133 • Thou'rt welcome here, dear red-cross knight, For thy fame's well known to me; And the mass shall be sung, and the bells shall be rung, And we'll feast right merrily, merrily.' Oh. I am come from the Holy Land, Where saints did live and die; Behold the device I bear on my shield! The red-cross knight am I. And we have fought in the Holy Land, And have won the victory: For with valiant might did the Christians fight, And made the proud Pagans fly.' •Thou'rt welcome here, dear red-cross knight, Dear knight, come lay thy armour by, And for the good tidings thou dost bring, We'll feast us merrily, merrily : For all in my castle shall rejoice That we've won the victory; And the mass shall be sung, and the bells shall D€ rung, And the feast, the feast eat merrily.' LIFE. Written by Barry Cornwall. We are born ; we laugh ; we weep ; We love ; we droop ; we die ! Ah ! wherefore do we laugh, or weep ? Why do we live, or die \ Who knows that secret deep ? Ala3, not 1 ! Why doth the violet spring Lnseen by human eye ? Why do the radiant seasons bring Sweet thoughts that quickly fly ? Why do our fond hearts cling To things that die ? 134 THE AMERICAN We toil, — throu h pain and wrong ; We fight, — and fly ; We love ; we lose ; and then, ere long, Stone-dead we lie. O Life ! is all thy song • Endure and — die V JESSIE, THE FLOWER O' DUMBLANE. Favourite Melody. The sun has gane down o'er the lofty Benloraond, And left the red clouds to preside o'er the scene, While lanely I stray in the calm simmer gloaming, To muse on sweet Jessie, the flow'r o' Dumblane. How sweet is the brier wi' its saft faulding blossom, And sweet is the birk wi' its mantle o' green, Yet sweeter an' fairer an' dear to my bosom, Is lovely young Jessie, the flow'r o' Dumblane, Is lovely young Jessie, is lovely young Jessie, Is lovely young Jessie, the flow'r o' Dumblane. She's modest as ony, an' blythe as she's bonny, For guileless simplicity marks her its ain, An' far be the villain divested o' feeling, Wha'd blight in its blossom the sweet flow'r o' Dumblane. Sing on, thou sweet Mavis, thy hymn to the e'ening, Thou 'rt dear to the echoes o' Calderwood glen, Sae dear to this bosom, sae artless and winning, Is charming young Jessie, the flow'r o' Dumblane. How lost were my days, till I met wi' my Jessie, The sports o' the city seem'd foolish and vain, I ne'er saw a nymph I w r ould ca' my dear lassie, Till charm'd wi' sweet Jessie, the flow'r o' Dum- blane. Tho' mine were the station o' loftiest grandeur, Amidst its profusion I'd languish in pain, An' reckon as naelhing the height o' its splendour, If wanting sweet Jessie, the flow'r o' Dumblane. singer's own book. 13^> O NEVER FALL IN LOVE. Sung by Clara Fisher. Fall not in love, dear girls, beware, Oh never fall in love ! Better lead apes — you know where, Than ever fall in love , For men, their ends to gain, Are cruel when most kind ; Their tears are false as rain, Their vows are only wind ; And if you say them No, Thev swear their hearts are broke; Yet when half dead with wo, How nice and plump they look. Fall not in love, &c For if a rake you wed, For better and fcr worse, When honey -moons are fled, Oh! how he'll squeeze your purse: And if you scold at night, Quite easy by the by, Your husband grown polite, Yawns most melodiously. Fall not in love, &c THE LAND O' THE LEAL. Fm wearing awa, Jean, Like snaw in its thaw, Jean, Fm wearing awa, To the land o' the leal. There's nae sorrow there, Jean, There's nae cauld nor care, Jean, The day is aye fair, In the land o' the leal. 136 THE AMERICAN Ye've been leal and true, Jean, Your task's ended now, Jean, An' I'll welcome vou, To the land o' the leal. Our bonnv bairn's there, Jean ; She was baith gude an' fair, Jean An' we grudg'd her sair, To the land o' the leal. Dry that tearfu' e'e, Tean ; My soul langs to be free, Jean ; An' angels wait on me, In the land o' the leal. Then farewell, my ain Jean, This warld's care is vain, Jean ; We'll meet an' aye be fain, In the land o' the leal. THE CANADIAN BOAT SONG. Faintly as tolls the evening chime, Our voices keep tune, and our oars keep time. Soon as the woods on shore look dim, We'll sing, at Saint Ann's, our parting hymn. Row, brothers, row, the stream runs fast, The rapids are near, and the daylight's past Why should we yet our sails unfurl ? There's not a breath the blue wave to curl ; But, when the wind blows off the shore, Oh! sweetly we'll rest our weary oar. Blow, breezes, blow, the stream runs fast, The rapids are near and the daylight's past. Utawa's tide ! this trembling moon Shall see us float o'er thy surges soon ; Saint of this green isle, hear our prayers, Oh, grant us cool heavens, and favouring airs. Blow, breezes, blow, the stream runs fast, The rapids are near and the daylight s past singer's own book. 137 FLOW ON, THOU SHINING RIVER. Flow on, thou shining river, But ere thou reach the sea, Seek Ella's bovver, and give her The wreaths I fling o'er thee ; And tell her thus, if she'll be mine, The current of our lives shall be, With joys along their course to shine, Like those sweet flowers on thee. But if, in wand'ring thither, Thou find'st she mocks my pray'r, Then leave those wreaths to wither Upon the cold bank there ; And tell her thus, when youth is o'er, Her lone and lovely charms shall be Thrown upon life's weedy shore, Like those sweet flowers from thee. WHEN LIFE LOOKS LONE AND DREARY When life looks lone and dreary, What light can dispel the gloom? When time's swift wing grows wear}'-, What charm can refresh his plume ? 'Tis woman, whose sweetness beameth O'er all that we feel or see ; And if man of heav'n e'er dreameth, 'Tis when he tlnnks purely of thee, Oh, woman ! Let conquerors fight for glory, — Too dearly the meed they gain ; Let patriots live in story, Too often they die in vain. Give kingdoms to those who choose 'em This world can offer to me No throne like beauty's bosom, No freedom like serving thee, Oh, woman! 133 THE AMERICAN MERMAID SONG. iSung by Miss Kelly, Follow, follow through the sea, To the mermaid's melody: Safety, freely shalt thou range, Through things dreadful, quaint, and strange And through liquid walls behold Wonders that may not be told, Treasures too for ages lost, Gems surpassing human cost, Fearless, follow, follow me, Through the treasures of the sea. THE LAVENDER GIRL. Air, — Morgiana in Ireland. As the sun climbs o'er the hills, When the sky-larks sing so cheerily, I my little basket fill, And trudge along the village merrily. Light my bosom, light my heart, I but laugh at Cupid's dart ; I keep my mother, myself and brother, By trudging along to sell my lavender. Ladies try it, come and buy it, Never saw ye nicer lavender. Ladies try it, try it, try it, Come, come, buy my lavender. Ere the gentry quit their beds, (Foes to health — I'm wisely keeping it) Oft I earn my daily bread, And sit beneath the hedge partaking it Ne'er repining, ne'er distress'd, Tell me, then, am not I bless'd ? Though not wealthy, I*m young and healthy And only care to sell my lavender. Ladies, try it, &a singer's own book. 139 THE HUNTER'S HORN. Swift from the covert the merry pack fled, While hounding they sprang over valley and mead Wide spreading his antlers, erected his nead, The stag, his enemies scorning. O had you seen then, through torrent, through brake, Each sportsman right gallant his rival race take, 'T would please beauty's ear to have heard echo wake To the hunter's horn in the morning. ■o- Clear'd was the forest, the mountain pass'd o'er ; Yet freshly their riders the willing steeds bore : The river roll'd deep where the stag spurn'd the shore, Yet ow n'd no timorous warning. So close was he follow'd, the foam where he sprung, Encircled and sparkled the coursers among, While the dogs of the chase the rude melody rung. To the hunter's horn in the morning. *&• JOHN ANDERSON, MY JO. Sung by Mr Sinclair. John Anderson, my jo, John, When we were first acquent, Your locks were like the raven, Your bonnie brow was brent! But now your head's turn'd bald, John, Your locks are like the snow, Yet, blessings on your frosty pow, John Anderson, my jo. John Anderson, my jo, John, When nature first began To try her cannie hand, John, Her master- work was man : 140 THE AMERICAN And you amang them a' John, Sae trig frae tap to toe, She proved to be nae journey -wark, John Anderson, my jo. John Anderson, my jo, John, Ye were my first conceit, And ye need na think it strange, John Though I ca' ye trim and neat ; Though some folks say ye're auld, John, I never think ye so, But I think ye're aye the same to me, John Anderson, my jo. John Anderson, my jo, John, We've seen our bairns' bairns, And yet, my dear John Anderson, I'm happy in your arms ; And sae are ye in mine, John — I'm sure ye'll ne'er say no, Though the days are gare that ye have seen, John Anderson, my jo. John Anderson, my jo, John, What pleasure does it gie, To see sae many sprouts, John, Spring up 'tween yon and me ; And ilka lad and lass, John, In our footsteps to go, Make perfect heaven here on earth, John Anderson, my jo. John Anderson, my jo, John, Frae year to year we've past, And soon that year maun come, John, Will bring us to our last; But let na' that affright us, John, Our hearts were ne'er our foe, While in innocent delight we've lived, John Anderson, my jo. singer's own book. 141 John Anderson, my jo, John, We clamb the hill thegither, And monie a ermtie day, John, We've had \vi' ane anither: Now we maun totter down, John, But hand in hand we'll go, And we'll sleep thegither at the foot, John Anderson, my jo. FAIREST OF THE FAIR. O Nannie, wilt thou gang wi' me, Nor sigh to leave the flaunting town ; Can silent glens have charms for thee, The lowly cot, and russet gown ? Nae langer drest in silken sheen, Nae langer deck'd wi' jewels rare, Say, canst thou quit each courtly scene, Where thou wast fairest of the fair 1 O Nannie, when thou'rt far awa', Wilt thou not cast a look behind ? Say, canst thou face the flaky siiaw, Nor shrink before the warping wind ? O can that soft and gentle mien, Severest hardships learn to bear Nor sad regret each courtly scene, Where thou wast fairest of the fair ? O Nannie, canst thou love so true, Through perils keen wi' me to gae ? Or when thy swain mishap shall rue, To share with him the pang of wae ? And when invading pains befall, Wilt thou assume the nurse's care, Nor wishful those gay scenes recall, Where thou wast fairest of the fair And when at last thy love shall die, Wilt thou receive his parting breath ? Wilt thou repress each struggling sigh, And cneer with smiles the bed of death? 142 THE AMERICAN And wilt thou o'er his much loved clay- Strew flowers, and drop the tender tear ? Nor then regret those scenes so gay, Where thou wast fairest of the fair ? WILL WATCH. *Twas one morn, when the wind from the northward blew keenly, While sullenly roar'd the big waves of the main, A famed smuggler, Will Watch, kiss'd his Sue, then serenely Took helm, and to sea boldly steer'd out arain. Will had promised his Sue, that this trip, if well ended, Should coil up his hopes, and he'd anchor on shore ; When his pockets were lined, why his life should be mended ; The laws he had broken he'd never break more. His sea-boat was trim, made her port, took her lading, Then Will stood for home, reach'd the offing and cried, This night, if I've luck, furls the sails of my trading ; In dock I can lie, and a friend serve beside. Will lay-to, till the night came on darksome and dreary, To crowdevery sail then he piped up each hand : But a signal soon spied, 'twas a prospect uncheery, A signal that warn'd him to bear from the land. The Philistines are out, cries Will, we'll take no heed on't, Attack'd, who's the man that will flinch from his gun? Should my head be blown off, I shall ne'er feel the need on't — We'll fight while we can ; when we can't, boy?, we'll run. singer's own book. 143 Through the haze of the night a bright flash now appearing, Oh ! now, cries Will Watch, the Philistines bear down ; Bear-a-hand, my tight lads, ere we think about sheer- ing, One broadside pour in, should we swim, boys, 07 drown. But should I be popp'd off, you, my mates, left be- hind me, Regard my last words, see 'em kindly obeyed : Let no stone mark the spot, and, my friends, do you mind me, Near the beach is the grave where Will Watch would be laid. Poor Will's yarn was spun out — for a bullet nexi minute Laid him low on the deck, and he never spoke more; His bold crew fought the brig while a shot remained in it, Then sheer'd — and Will's hull to his Susan they bore. In the dead of the night his last wish was complied with, To few known his grave, and to few known his end; He was borne to the earth by the crew that he died with, He'd the tears of his Susan, the prayers of each friend. Near his grave dash the billows, the winds loudly bellow, Yon ash struck with lightning, points out the cold bed Where Will Watch, the bold smuggler, that famed lawless fellow, Once feared, now forgot, sleeps in peace with the dead. 144 THE AMERICAN CONVENT BELL. Music by the late Benjamin Carr, Esq. Far, far o'er hill and dell On the winds stealing, List to the convent bell, Mournfully pealing ; Hark ! hark ! it seems to say, • As melt these sounds away, So life's best joys decay, Whilst new their feeling.' Far, far, &c. Now through the charmed air Slowly ascending, List to the chaunted prayer, Solemnly blending; Hark ! hark ! it seems to say, • Turn from such joys away, To those which ne'er decay, Though life is ending.' Far, far, &c. O'er the fallen warrior's tomb, Holy monks are bending ; From the solemn cloister's gloom Hear the dirge ascending ; Hark ! hark ! it seems to say, ' How vain is glory's way, Life's joys and empire's sway, In the dark grave ending.' Far, far, &c. So when our mortal ties, Death shall dissever, Lord, may we reach the skies, Where eare comes never; And in eternal day, Joining the angels' lay, To our Creator pay Homage for ever. Alleluia, Amen. SINGER S OWN BOOK. 146 Oil! 'TIS LOVE. Oh ! 'tis love, 'tis love, 'tis love, That rules us all completely, Oh! 'tis love, 'tis love, 'tis love, Commands, and \\c obey. What in the palace or the hovel Doth chase dull care away? What is the theme of ev'ry novel? What is the plot of ev'ry play ? Say, what keeps the carriage Of many a modern miss, And makes even marriage, Sometimes a state of bliss? — Oh ! 'tis love, &c Love yields the sweetest, dearest pleasure, Love doubles every other charm; Love makes the miser yield his treasure, Love e'en the Stoic's heart can warm: In deserts the wildest, On mountains or on plains, Where climates are mildest. Or winter ever reigns. Oh ! 'tis love, &c. SINCE THEN I'M DOOMED. Since then I'm doom'd this sad reverse to prove, To quit each object of my infant care ; Torn from an honour'd parent's tender love, And driven the keenest storms of fate to bear: Ah! but forgive me, pitied let me part, Your frowns too sure would break my sinking heart Where'er I go, whate'er my lowlv state, Yet grateful mem'ry still shall linger here ! And when, perhaps, you're musing o'er my fate, You still may greet me with a tender care. Ah! then forgive me, pitied let me part, Your frowns too sure would break my sinking heart K 146 THE AMERICAN WHILST WITH VILLAGE MAIDS. "Whilst with village maids I stray, Sweetly wears the joyous day, Cheerful glows my artless breast, Mild content the constant guest. Whilst, &c. HOURS THERE WERE. Hours there were to mem'ry dearer Than the sunbright scenes of day ; Friends were fonder, joys were nearer, But, alas ! they've flea" away ! Oh ! 'twas when the moonlight playing On the valley's silent grove, Told the blissful hour for straving, With my fond, my faithful love- Oft when evening faded mildly, O'er the wave our bark would rove, Then we've heard the night bird wildly Breathe his vesper tale of love. Songs like these mv love would sing me. Songs that warble round me yet: Ah ! but where does mem'ry lead me — Scenes like these I must forget ! But in dreams let love be near me, With the joys that bloom'd before, Slumbering, then 'twill sweetly cheer me Calm to live my pleasures o'er. Then, perhaps, some hopes may waken In this heart depress'd with care, And like flowers, in vale forsaken, Live in lonely beauty there. singer's own book. 147 THE LAST BUGLE. flark! the muffled drum sounds the last march of '.he brave, The soldier retreats to his quarters, the grave, Under Death, whom he owns his commander in chief No more he'll turn out with the ready relief. But in spite of Death's terrors or hostile alarms, When he hears the last bugle, When he hears the last bugle, he'll stand to his arms farewell, brother soldiers, in peace may ye rest, And light lie the turf on each veteran breast, Until thai review when the souls of the brave Shall behold the Chief Ensign, fair Mercy's flag, wave ; Then, freed from death's terrors and hostile alarms, When we hear the last bugle, When we hear the last bugle, we'll stand to our arms. BEHOLD IN HIS SOFT. Behold ! in his soft expressive face, Her well Known features here I see, And here the gentle smile can trace, Which once so sweetly beam'd on me ; Ah! Rosalie! Ah! Rosalie! that death should sever Two hearts that could have lov'd for ever Here I could fancy I beheld In thee, sweet boy, her heavenly charms ; Could think, by hope and love impell'd, I clasp'd her offspring in my arms. My child ! my child ! My child, like this, was lovely ever, Till death decreed our hearts to sever. 148 THE AMERICAN OH, LADY FAIR. First voice. Oh lady fair, where art thou roaming ? The sun has sunk, the night is coming. Second voice. Stranger, I go o'er moor and mountain, To tell my beads at Agnes' Fountain. First voice. And who is the man with his white locks flowing 1 Oh lady fair, where is he going ? Third voice. A wand'ring pilgrim weak I falter, To tell my beads at Agnes' altar. Trio. Chill falls the rain, night winds are blowing, Dreary and dark's the way we're going. First voice. Fair lady ! rest till morning blushes, I'll strew for thee a bed of rushes. Second voice. Oh ! stranger, when my beads I'm counting, I'll bless thy name at Agues' Fountain. First voice. Thou, pilgrim, turn and rest thy sorrow, Thou'lt go to Agnes' shrine to-morrow Third voice. Good stranger! when my beads I'm telling, My saint shall bless thy leaty dwelling. Trio. Strew then, oh, strew our bed of rushes, Here we shall rest till morning blushes. V* singer's own book. 149 BLACK-EYED SUSAN. All in the Downs the fleet was moor'd, The streamers waving in the wind, When black-eyed Susan came on board: "Oh! where shall I my true love find? Tell me, ye jovial sailors, tell me true, Does my sweet William sail among your crew?' William, who, high upon the yard, Rock'd with the billows to and fro; Soon as her well-known voice he heard, He sigh'd and cast his eyes below. The cord slides swiftly through his glowing hands, And, quick as lightning, on the deck he stands. So the sweet lark, high poised in air, Shuts close his pinions to his breast, If, chance, his mate's shrill note he hear, And drops at once into her nest. The noblest captain in the British fleet Might envy William's lips those kisses sweet. "O, Susan! Susan! lovely dear! My vows shall ever true remain, Let me kiss off that falling tear, We only part to meet again. Change, as ye list, ye winds, my heart shall be The faithful compass that still points to thee " Believe not what the landsmen say, Who tempt, with doubts, thy constant mind. They'll tell thee, sailors, when away, In ev'ry port a mistress find — Yes, yes, believe them when they tell thee so For thou art present wheresoe'er I go. "If to far India's coast we sail, Thine eyes are seen in diamonds bright j Thy breath is Afric's spicy gale ; Thy skin is ivory so white : 150 THE AMERICAN Thus ev'ry beauteous object that I view, Wakes in ray soul some charm of lovely Sue. " Though battle calls me from thy arms, Let not my pretty Susan mourn ; Though cannons roar, yet safe from harms William shall to his dear return ; Love turns aside the balls that round me fly, Lest precious tears should drop from Susan's eye. The boatswain gave the dreadful word, The sails their swelling bosoms spread ; No longer must she slay aboard ; They kiss'd ; she sigh'd ; he bung his head. Her lessening boat unwilling rows to land! " Adieu !" she cried, and waved her lily hand. >> DRAW THE SWORD, SCOTLAND. Draw the sword, Scotland! Scotland! Scotland! O'er moor and o'er mountain hath pass'd the war sign The pibroch is pealing, pealing, pealing, "Who heeds not the summons is nae son o' thine. The clans they are gathering, gathering, gathering, The clans they are gathering, by loch and by lea \ The banners they are flying, flying, flying, The banners they are flying that lead to victory. Draw the sword, Scotland ! Scotland ! Scotland ! Charge as ye have charged in days lang syne. Sound to the onset ! onset ! onset ! He who but falters is nae son o' thine ! Sheathe the sword, Scotland ! Scotland ! Scotland ! Sheathe the sword, Scotland ! for dimm'd is its shine. Thy foemen are flying, flying, flying, And who kens nae mercy is nae son o' thine. The struggle is over, over, over, The struggle is over, the victory won: There are tears for the fallen, fallen, fallen, And glory for all who their duty have done. singer's own book. 151 Sheathe the iword, Scotland! Scotland! Scotland! With thy loved thistle new laurels entwine: Time ne'er shall part theni, part them, part (hem, But hand down the garland to each son o' tliine GIVE ME, MY LOVE. Give me, niv love, the roseate flower ' mm t+ I saw thee cull from yonder bower, And with the gift I ne'er will part, But fondly wear it next my heart- Then if perchance I feel a thorn, 'Tis but an emblem of thy scorn ; Yet, not the thorn shall make us part, Still will I wear it next my heart- WHERE ROSES WILD. Where roses wild were blowing, There stood an humble cot, Around it streams were flowing, Contentment blest the spot. But .human bliss is fleeting, And joy is but a flower, •o-» The heart with sorrow meeting, Will wither 'neath its power. This peaceful habitation Contain' d a beauteous maid, No flow'ret in creation, Such sweetness e'er display'd In youth of beauty beaming, Celestial was its ray, Love came with artful seeming And stole that bloom away. And now the eot*s forsaken, The garden's all a waste, Their ruin'd charms awaken Sad feelings in the breast- 152 THE AMERICAN No roses now are blowing, Where smil'd the happy cot, But thorns and weeds are growing, And gloom o'ershades the spot. LOVE HAS EYES. Love's blind, they say — O never, nay, Can words love's grace impart? The fancy weak, The tongue may speak, But eyes alone the heart ; In one soft look what language lies ! O, yes, believe me, love has eyes. Love's w 7 ingVi, they cry — O, never, I No pinions have to soar : Deceivers rove, But never love ; Attach'd he roves no more : Can he have wings, who never flies? Oh, yes, believe me, love has eyes. DESERTED BY THE WANING MOON Deserted by the waning moon, When skies proclaim night's cheerless noon, On tower, or fort, or tented ground, The sentry walks his lonely round : And should a footstep haply stray Where caution marks the guarded way — Who goes there ? stranger, quickly tell ; A friend! — a friend! — good night! — all's well Or sailing on the midnight deep, While weary messmates soundly sleep, The careful watch patroles the deck, To guard the ship from foes or wreck : singer's own book. 153 And while his thoughts oft homeward veer. Some well known voice salutes his ear — What cheer! oh! brother, quickly tell, Above! — below! — good night! — all's well. BOYS OF SWITZERLAND. Our eot was shelter'd by a wood, And near a lake's green margin stood ; A mountain bleak behind us frown'd, Whose top the snow in summer crown'd. But pastures rich and warm to boot, Lav smiling at the mountain's foot ; There first we froliek'd hand in hand, Two infant boys of Switzerland. When scarcely old enough to know The meaning of a tale of woe, Tvvas then by mother we were told That father in his grave lav cold ; That livelihoods were hard to get, And we too young to labour yet; And tears within her eyes would stand, For her two boys of Switzerland. But soon for mother, as we grew, We work'd as much as boys could do ; Our daily gains to her we bore : — But ah! she'll ne'er receive them more. For long wo watch'd beside her bed, Then sobb'd to see her lie there dead : And now we wander hand in hand, Two orphan boys of Switzerland. IS THERE A HEART THAT NEVER LOVED Is there a heart lhat never lov'd, Or felt soft woman's wgh ? Is there a man can mark unmov'd, Dear woman's tearful ey< 154 THE AMERICAN Oh ! bear him to some distant shore Or solitary cell, Where nought but savage monsters roar, Where love ne'er deign'd to dwell. For there's a charm in woman's eye, A Language in her tear ; A spell in e\ery sacred sigh, To man, to virtue dear; And he who can resist her smiles, With brutes alone should live, Nor taste that joy which care beguiles, That joy her virtues give. THE BAY OF BISCAY, O Loud roar'd the dreadful thunder, The rain a deluge show'rs ! The clouds were rent asunder, By lighl'ning's vivid pow'rs! The night both drear and dark! Our poor devoted bark, Till next day, There she lay, In the bay of Biscay, O! Now dash'd upon the billows, Our op'ning timbers creak ; Each fears a wat'ry pillow, None stop the dreadful leak! To cling the slipp'ry shrouds Each breathless seaman crowds, As she lav, Till next day, In the bay of Biscay, O At length the wish'd for morrow Broke through the hazy sky; Absorb'd in silent sorrow, Each heav'd the bitter sigh; singer's own book. 155 The dismal wreck to view Struck horror to the crew, As she lay, On that day, In the bay of Biscay, O ! Her yielding timbers sever, Her pitchy seams are rent; When heav'n, all beroiteouo ever, Its boundless mercy sent! A sail in sight appears, We hail it with three cheers! Now we sail, With the gale, From the bay of Biscay, O ! THE TRUE YANKEE SAILOR. When a boy, Harry Bluffleft his friends and his home, And his dear native land, o'er the ocean to roam; Like a sapling he sprung, he was fair to the view. He was true Yankee oak, boys, the older he grew, Though his body was weak, and his hands they were soft, When the signal was given he was first man aloft, And the veterans all cried, he'd one day lead the van, In the heart of a boy was the soul of a man — And he lived like a true Yankee sailor. When to manhood promoted and burning for fame, Still in peace or in war, Harry Bluff was the same So true to his love, and in battle so brave, That the myrtle and laurel entwin'd o'er his grave. For his country he fell, when, by victory crown'd, The Hag, shot away, fell in tatters' around,- And the foe thought he'd struck, but he sung out, Avast ! For Columbia's colours he nail'd to the mast, And he died like a true Yankee sailor 1.56 THE AMERICAN MEET ME BY MOONLIGHT Sung by Mr Sinclair. Meet me by moonlight alone, And then I will tell yon a tale, Must be told by the moonlight alone, In the grove at the end of the vale, You must promise to come, for I said I would show the night flowers their queen. Nay, turn not away thy sweet head, 'Tis the loveliest ever was seen. Oh ! meet me by moonlight alone. Daylight may do for the gay, The thoughtless, the heartless, the free; But there's something about the moon's ray, That is sweeter to you and to me. OhJ-remember be sure to be there, For though dearly a moonlight I prize, I care not for all in the air, If I want the sweet light of your eyes. So meet me by moonlight alone. THE MINSTREL BOY. The minstrel boy to the war is gone, In the ranks of death you'll find him; His father's sword he has girded on, And his wild harp slung behind him. "Land of song!" said the warrior bard, "Though all the world betrays thee, "One sword, at least, thy rights shall guard, "One faithful harp shall praise thee." The minstrel fell ! but the foeman's chain Could not bring his proud soul under ; The harp he lov'd ne'er spoke again, For he tore its chords asunder; And said, " No chains shall sully thee, " Thou soul of love and bravery! •• Thy songs were made for the pure and fre " They shall never sound in slavery " singer's own book. ];Y7 OH! WHY SHOULD THE GIRL. Oh! why should the girl of my soul be in tears, At a meeting of rapture like this, When the gloom of the past and the sorrows of years Have been paid by the moment of bliss. Are they shed for that moment of blissful delight, Which dwells on her memory vet ; Do they flow like the dews of the love breathing night, From the warmth of the sun that has set. Oh! sweet is the tear on that languishing smile, That smile which is loveliest then ; And if such arc the drops that delight can beguile, Thou shalt weep them again and again. HOME, SWEET HOME. An additional verse by J. M. Brown. 'Mid pleasure and palaces, though we may roam, Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home ; A charm from the skies, seems to hallow us there, Which, seek through the world, is ne'er met with elsewhere. Home, home, sweet, sweet home, There's no place like home. 1 gaze on the moon, as I trace the drear wild, And feel that my parent now thinks of her child ; She looks on that moon from our own cottage door Through woodbines whose fragrance shall cheer me no more. Home, home, sweet, sweet home, <5jc. An exile from home, splendour dazzles in vain, O give me my lowly, thatch'd cottage again; The birds singing gaily that came at my call, Give me them with the peace of mind, dearer than all. Home, home, sweet, sweet home, &c 158 THE AMERICAN WITH HELMET ON HIS BROW. Sung by Mr Povey. With helmet on his brow, and sabre on his thigh, The soldier mounts his gallant steed to conquer or to die : His plume, like a pennon, streams on the wanton summer wind, In the path of glory still that white plume shalt thou find ; Then let the trumpet's blast to the brazen drum reply, 'A soldier must with honour live, or at once with honour die.' « O bright as his own good sword, a soldier's fame must be, And pure as the plume that floats above his helm, so white and free, No fear in his heart must dwell, but the Oread that shame may throw One spot upon that blade so bright, one stain on that plume of snow ; Then let the trumpet's blast to the brazen drum reply, 'A soldier must with honour live, or at once with honour die.' REST, WARRIOR, REST. He comes from the wars, from the red field of fight ! He comes through the storm, and the darkness of night ! For rest and for refuge now fain to implore, The warrior bends low at the cottager's door ; Pale, pale is his cheek, there's a gash on his brow, His locks o'er his shoulders distractedlv flow ; And the fire of his heart shoots by fits from his eye, Like a languishing lamp, that just flashes to die Rest, warrior rest. singer's own book. 159 Sunk in silence and Bleep in ihe cottager's bed, Oblivion shall visit the war-weary head; Perchance he may dream, but ihe vision shall tell, Of his lady-love's bower and her latest farewell; Love's illusion shall banish the battle's alarms, He shall dream that his mistress lies lock'd in his arms ; He shall feel on his lips the sweet warmth of her kiss — Ah ! warrior, awake not ! such slumber is bliss ! Rest, warrior, rest. GAILY SOUNDS THE CASTANET. Gailv sounds the Castanet, Beating time to bounding feet, When, after daylight's golden set, Maids and youths by moonlight meet. Oh ! then, how sw cot to move Through all that maze of mirth, Lighted by those eyes we love Beyond all eyes on earth. Then the joyous banquet spread On the cool and fragrant ground, With night's bright eye-beams o'er head; And still brighter sparkling round. Oh ! then, how sweet to say Into the lov'd one's ear, Thoughts rescrv'd through many a day, To be thus whisperd there. When the dance and feast are done, Arm and arm as home we st"ay, How r? t to see the dawning sun O'er her cheek's warm blushes play Then, then the farewell kiss, And words whose parting tone Lingers still in dreams of bliss, That haunt young hearts ak no. 160 THE AMERICAN THE CAMPBELLS ARE COMIN. The Campbells are comin, O ho, O ho! The Campbells are comin, O ho, O ho ! The Campbells are comin to bonnie Loehlevezi, The Campbells are comin, O ho, O ho ! Upon the Lemons I lay, I lay, Upon the Lemons I lay, I lay, [ looked down to bonnie Lochleven, And heard the bonnie pibrochs play The Campbells, &a Great Argyle, he goes before, He makes his cannons loudly roar, Wi' sound of trumpet, pipe and drum, The Campbells are comin, O ho, O ho ! The Campbells, &c The Campbells, they are a' in arms, Their loyal faith and truth to show, Wi' banners rattling in the wind, The Campbells are comin, O ho, O ho ! The Campbells, &e- THE MINUTE GUN AT SEA. Let him who sighs in sadness here, Rejoice and know a friend is near ; What heav'nly sounds are those I hear ? What being comes the gloom to cheer ? When in the storm on Albion's coast, The night-watch guards his weary post, From thoughts of danger free ; He marks some vessel's dusky form, And hears, amid the howling storm, The minute gun at sea. Swift from the shore a hardy few The life-boat man, with gallant crew, BIlfOBR'fl OWN BOOK. 101 And dare the dang'rous wave; Through the wild surf they cleave their way. Lost in the foam, nor know dismay, For they go the crew to save. But oh! what rapture tills each breast, Of the hapless crew of the ship distress'd; Then landed safe, what joy to tell Of all the dangi rs that betelL Then is heard no more, By the watch on the shore, The minute gun at sea. AULD LANG SYNE. Oh years have flown since first we met, And sorrows have been mine ! I've often thought with fond regret, On auld lane svne. p'or auld lang syne my dear. For auld lang syne ; We'll take a cupo' kindness yet, For auld lang syne. I felt, when to thy bosom press'd, That greater joys were mine ; Than e'er my youthful heart had known. In auld lang syne. For auld lang syne, &c Though fortune points thy path of life, Far, far away from mine; The hour may be when next we meet. An auld lansz syne. For auld lang syne, &*j. Then fare-thee-wcll. if thou art bless'd, Thy friend will not repine; But some time give a kindly thought, To auld lang sync. For auld lang syne, Szc L 162 THE AMERICAN THE CARRIER PIGEON. Come hither, thou beautiful rover, Thou wanderer of earth and of air;. Who bearest the sighs of the lover, And bringest him news of his fair: Send hither thy light waving pinion, And show me the gloss of thy neck y ! perch on my hand, dearest minion, And turn up thy bright eye and peek. Here is bread of the whitest and s\\ eetest,. And there is a sip of red wine ; Though thy wing is the lightest and fleetest, 'Twill be fleeter, when nerv'd by the viae, I have written on rose-scented paper, With thy wing-quill, a soft billet-doux,. I have melted the wax in love's taper, 'Tis the colour of true hearts, sky-blue. 1 have fasten T d it under thy pinion, With a blue ribbon round thy soft neck; So go from me, beautiful minion, While the pure ether shows not a speck. Like a cloud in the dim distance fleeting, Like an arrow he hurries away ; And farther and farther retreating, He is lost in the clear blue of day. THE WAY-WORN TRAVELLER faint and wearily the way-worn traveller Plods uncheerily, afraid to stop; Wand'ring drearily, and sad unraveller Of the maze towards the mountain's top. Doubting, fearing, while his course he's steering, Cottages appearing as he's nigh to drop — Oh! h)\v briskly then the way-worn traveller Treads the maze towards the mountain's top* 'o> SINGER S OWN BOOK. ] THE AMERICAN Are beauties like the summer leaf, Which length of years decay, Which envious time, that cruel thief, Will surely steal away. But when conjoined with them, we find Charms that surpass all beauty, A virtuous heart, a feeling mind, Our love becomes a duty. Then mad are those who madly range. To all but beauty blind, For time nor place can ever change, The beauties ef the mind. BONNIE DOON. Ye banks and braes o 1 bonnie Doon, How 7 can ye bloom sac fresh and fair! How can ye chaunt, ye little birds, And I sae weary fu' o' care ? Thou'lt break my heart, thou warbling bird That wanton'st through the flowery thorn-; Thou mind^st me of departed joys, Departed never to return. Oft have I rovM by bonnie Doon, To see the rose and woodbine twine.; And ilka bird sang o' its love, And fondly sae did Io' mine : WP lightsome heart, I pu'd a rose, Fu' sweet upon its thorny tree, And my fause lover staw my rose, But ah ! he left the thorn wi' me* THE LAST WHISTLE. Whether sailor or not, for a moment avast! Poor Jack's mizen-topsail is laid to the mast ; He'll never turn out, nor again heave the lead; He's now all aback, nor will sails shoot ahead.; singer's own book. 171 Yet, though worms gnaw his timbers, his vessel a wreck, When he hears the last whistle, he'll jump upon deck. With his frame a mere hulk, and his reck'ning on board, At last he dropt down to mortality's road ; With eternity a ocean before him in view, He cheerfully pip'd out, ' My messmates, adieu P Though worms, &c. Secure in his cabin, he's moor'd in the grave, Nor hears any more the loud roar of the wave ; Press'd by death, he is sent to the tender below T , WTiere lubbers and seamen must ev'ry one go. Yet, though worms, &c THE GALLEY SLAVE. Oh. think on my fate ! once I freedom enjoy'd — Was happy as happy could be ; But pleasure is fled, — even hope is destroy'd — A captive, alas ! on the sea. I was ta'en by the foe — 'twas the fiat of fate, To tear me from her I adore ; When hope brings to mind my once happy estate, I sigh, while I tug at the oar. Hard, hard is my fate ! O how galling my chain ! My life steer'd by misery's chart; And though 'gainst my tyrants I scorn to complain, Tears gush forth to ease my full heart. I disdain e'en to shrink, though I feel the sharp lash Yet my heart feels for her I adore ; When thought brings to mind my once happy estate I sigh, while I tug at the oar! How fortune deceives! we had pleasure in tow, The port where she dwelt we'd in view; But the wish'd nuptial morn was o'erelouded with ',vo. And, dear Anna, I hurried from you. 172 THE AMERICAN Our shallop was boarded, and I borne away, To behold my dear Anna no more! — But despair wastes my spirits, my form feels decay- He sigh'd, and expir'd at the oar. OH TELL ME HOW FROM LOVE TO FLY. Oh tell me how from love to fly, Its dangers how to shun, To guard the heart, to shield the eye, Or I must be undone. For thy impression on my mind, No time, nor power can move; And vain, alas ! the task f find, To look and not to love! Could absence my sad heart uphold, I'd hence and mourn my lot ; But mem'ry will not be controlled, Thou ne'er canst be forgot. ■o THINE AM I. MY FAITHFUL FAIR. Thine am I, thine am I, my faithful fair, Thine, thine, my lovely Nancy; Ev'ry pulse, ev'ry pulse, along my veins, Ev'ry roving fancy : To thy bosom lay my heart, There to throb, to throb and languish ; Though despair had wrung its core, That would heal its anguish. Take away, take away those rosy lips, Rich, rbh with balmy treasure ; Turn away, turn away thine eyes of love, Lesi I die with pleasure: What is life when wanting love, Night, night without a morning; Love's the cloudless summer sun, >, at ure gay adorning. SINGER S OWN BOOK. 173 THE INVINCIBLES. Simg by Madame Ycsfris. When the merry fife and drum, And ihe bugles loudly play. Then gaily march 10 the martial sounds, The Invincibles so gay; Each lass upon parade, Willi cap and ^mart cockade, To the men will show, that well she knows The gallant soldier's trade. Our corp'ral leads us on, And in quick lime we move, With arms in hand, a valiant band, Our truth and love to prove. Then ladies join our ranks, Our banners proudly wave, Invincibles in love and war. Come join the gay and brave. Invincibles are we, With heart and arms combin'd, And no attention find will he Who is not lo our mind ; We never present arms To the purseproud awkward lout, For soon is the word from our corp'ral heard To face to the right about; but to the youths who please, We quickly stand at ease, Resign our arms, quit war's alarms, To dwell in love and peace. Then ladies, &c. I HAVE PLUCKED. I have rluck'd the swcetesi flower, 1 have oream'd in fancy's bower, 1 have bask'd in beauty's eyes, I have mingled melting sighs: 174 THE AMERICAN If all these sweets to hive, I'm the guiltiest man alive, — But, gentle maids, believe, I never can deceive, JNor cause your breasts to heave, With a sad heigho ! But to raise in beauty's frame, The burning blush of shame — Or bid the tear to start, Far be it from my heart ; Such base attempts I scorn, To honour was I born, Then, gentle maidens, spare The heart you thus ensnare, Or the willow I must wear, With a sad heigho ! SAY WHAT IS DEAR, Sang by Miss Love. Say what is dear to the heart of the brave, As the banner of victory is waving on high ? When fail'ii is the foe, who fain would enslave The children of freedom, who conquer or die ! O ves ! there's a joy more bliss can impart, Than all the proud trophies won on the field ; It is to clasp to your bosom the maid of your heart, And as offerings of love those trophies to yield. ELEANOR GREY. Air, — Savouma Deelish. Oh, long shall I think of the miller's fair daughter, The flower of the valley, poor Eleanor Grey, For though sorrow's sure hand to the cold grave has brought her, Her virtues in memory ne'er shall decay : finger's own book. 175 Like the glow-worm which shines, the night's dark- ness illumine:. Like the breath of the rose, which, though sweet while 'tis blooming, Breathes sweeter when death is its beauty entombing, Is the memory sweet of poor Eleanor Grey. If to love be a crime, and there's sin in believing, Then scarcely a sinner was poor Eleanor Grey ; For Edward was tender, and form'd for deceiving, And swore to protect when he meant to betray ; And like the mild night-plant when some rude foot bends it, Whose only reproach is the perfume it lends it, — She sighed, 'My heart blesses the false youth who rends it,' Then died as she blessed him, poor Eleanor Grey. IN HOME I FIND SWEETS. Air, — Home, sweet Home. Though some have a notion at all times to roam, Let them wander for pleasure, I seek it at home; Wife and children's caresses dispel ev'ry care, And at home I find sweets I can't meet with else- where. Home, home ! sweet, sweet home ! If you seek for true pleasure, you'll find it at home. 'Neath the ivy that fondly my cot doth entwine, In a fav'rite oak chair, oft at eve I recline, While each murmuring breeze seems our joys to increase, As I hail my dear home, the sweet mansion of peac© Home, home, &c. L76 THE AMERICAN J g WHEN THROUGH LIFE. Air, — Banks of Banna. When through life unblest we rove, Losing all that life made dear, Should some notes we used to love In days of boyhood, meet our ear; Oh! how welcome breathes the strain, Waking thoughts that long have slept — Kindling former smiles again, In faded eyes that long have wept! Like the gale that sighs alon< Beds of oriental flowers, Is the grateful breath of song, That once was hoard in happier hours. Fill'd with balm the gale sighs on, Though the flow'rs have sunk in death ; So, when pleasure's dream is gone, Its memory lives in music's breath ! Music, oh! how faint, how weak, Language seems before thy spell, Why should feeling ever speak, When thou canst breathe her soul so well ? Friendship's balmy words may feign, Love's are even more false than they, Oh, 'tis only music's strain Can sweetly soothe, and not betray. FISHERMEN'S GLEE. Ply the oar, brother, and speed the boat, Swift o'er the glittering waves we float; Then home as swiftly we'll haste again, Loaded with wealth of the plunder'd main — Loaded with wealth of the plunder'd main. Pull a nay, pull away, Row, boys, row; A long pull, a strong pull, And off we go. singer's own book. 177 Bass Solo. And off we go. Tenor. Hark! hark! as the neighbouring convent bell Throws o'er the waves its vesper swell, Sullen its boom, from shore to shore, Blending its chime to the dash of the oar: Boom, boom — Dash, dash. Pull away, pull away, &c. OH, COME WITH ME. Sung by Mr Sinclair. Oh, come with me, I'll row thee o'er Yon blue and peaceful sea ; And while I gently ply the oar, Renew my vows to thee : I'll bid thee gaze beneath thee, On each reflected star; Then think my soul reflects thee As true, but brighter far. Then come with me, &c O! could I count the stars above The wild waves' ceaseless swell, My deep, my pure, my boundless love To thee I could not tell. As soon the stars may cease to rise, The waves forget to flow, Ere my fond heart forger its sighs, And cease to love thee — no! Then come with me, &c REMEMBER THE GLORIES. Remember the glories of Brian the brave, Though the davs of the hero are o'er; Though lost to Mononia, and cold in the grave. He returns to Kinkorah no more! M 4* 178 THE AMERICAN That star of the field, which so often has pour'd Its beam on the battle, is set ; Bat enough of its glory remains on each sworci, To light us to victory yet. Mononia! 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 stirr'd not, but conquer'd and died ; The sun, that now blesses our arms with hia light, Saw them fall upon Ossory's plain ! Oh ! let him not blush when he leaves us to-night,. To find that they fell there in vain. RISE ! GENTLE MOON. Sung by Miss Love* ;ay nas gone down ; on the Baltic's bright billow Evening has sigh'd her last to the lone willow : The Baltic's broad billow ; Evening has sigh'd her last to the lone willow, Night hurries on, earth and ocean to cover, Rise ! gentle moon, and light me to my lover. 'Twas by thy beam he first stole forth to woo me ; Brighter since then, hast thou ever seem'd to me; First stole forth to woo me ; Brighter, since then, hast thou, &c. Let the wild waves still the red sun roll over. Thine is the light, of ail lights, to a lover. singer's own book. 179 IF YOU ASK WHAT IS LOVE. If you ask. if you ask, what is love, When we first, when we first feel its power, I would, I would say, 'twas a thorn, A thorn conceal VI in a flower. Or honey collected beneath the bee's wing, Where we scarce taste the sweets for the wound of the sting, Oh, this is love! — Oh, this is love. If you ask, if you ask, what is love, I would answer, would answer, a cheat ; 'Tis woe, 'tis woe in a mask — 'Tis bliss, 'tis bliss in deceit, 'Tis poison in nectar, 'tis death in repose, In prospect 'tis rapmre, when near worst of woes. Oh, this is love !— Oh, tins is love. THE SOLDIERS DREAxM. Our bugles sang truce, for the night cloud had lour'd. And the sentinel-stars set their watch in the sky ; And thousands had sunk on the ground overpower'd, The weary to sleep, and the wounded to die. When repo*m£ that night on my pallet of straw. By the wolfscaring fagot that guarded the slain, At the dead o[ the night a sweet vision I saw. And tlirice, ere the cock crew, I dreamt it again. Methoimht. from the battle-field's dreadful array. Far, far I had roam'd on a desolate track, Till autumn and sunshine disclosed the sweet way, To the house of my father, who welcom'd me back I flew to the pleasant field, travers'd so oft In life's morning march, when my bosom was young; I heard my own mountain goats Meeting aloft, And knew the sweet strain that the corn-reapers sung. 130 THE AMERICAN Then pledged we the wine-cup, and fondly I swore, From my home and my weeping friends never to part ; My little ones kiss'd me a thousanc4 times o'er, And my wife sobb'd aloud, in the fulness of heart— • Stay, stay with us 1 — rest ! thou art weary and worn ! And fain was the war-broken soldier to stay ; But sorrow return'd with the dawning of morn, And the voice in my dreaming ear melted away. ROY'S WIFE. Scottish Air. Roy's wife of Aldivalloch, Roy's wife of Aldivalloch Wat ye how she cheated me, As I came o'er the braes of Balloch. She vow'd, she swore she wad be mine, She said that she lo'ed me best of ony ; But oh, the fickle, faithless quean, She's ta'en the carl and left her Johnny. Roy's w T ife, &c. Roy's wife of Aldivalloch, Roy's wife of Aldivalloch ,* Wat ye how she cheated me, As I came o'er the braes of Balloch. O she was a canty quean, And weel could dance the Highland walloch, How happy I, had she been mine, Or I'd been Roy of Aldivalloch. Roy's wife, &c. Roy's wife of Aldivalloch, Roy's wife of Aldivalloch ; Wat ye how she cheated me, As I came o'er the braes of Bailoch. Her hair sae fair, her een sae clear, Her wee bit mou', sae sweet and bonny singer's own book. 181 To me she ever will be dear, Tho' she's forever left her Johnny. Roy's wife, &c. Roy's wife of Aidivalloeh, Roy's wife of Aidivalloeh ; Wat ye how she cheated me, As 1 came o'er the braes of Balloch. But Roy's age is three times mine, I think his days will nae be mony, And when the earl's dead and gane, She'll, may be, rue, and tak' her Johnny Roy's wife, &c. SHE WEEPS O'ER THE TRINKETS HE GAVE HER. Her eyes with her pale hand are shaded, The bloom of her beauty is faded, And loose hang the dark locks that aided, By contrast, the snow of her brow : Her dream of enjoyment is over, She seeks the loud smile of her lover, Alas! he assumed it to cover The cold frown repulsing her now. She weeps o'er the trinkets he gave her, Bright lures, that made innocence waver, The golden chains meant to enslave her Are broken, she throws them aside : She thinks of her home, and its bowers, Where spring strew'd the earliest flowers, Too late for youth's happier hours, She mourns in her palace of pride. MEET ME TO-NIGHT. Meet me to-night in the path which lies By the side of the woodland hollow, The moon will have open'd her silver eyes And tell thee which path to follow. 1 182 THE AMERICAN Then tripping along to thy footsteps' sound, Thy lip to thy heart will be humming: If thy glance for a moment turn around, 'Twill assure thee, love, I'm coming. Oh ! do not fear, not a tone will break On earth or in air that can chide thee ; If a lonely rose perchance be awake, 'Twill droop its bloom beside thee. FARE-THEE-WELL. Fare-thee-well, and if for ever, Still for ever, fare-thee-well ! Even though unforgiving, never 'Gainst thee can my heart rebel. Would that breast were bared before thee, Where thy head so oft hath lain, While that placid sleep came o'er thee Which thou ne'er canst know again. Would that breast, by thee glanced over, Every inmost thought might show, Then thou wouldst at length discover 'Twas not well to spurn it so. But 'tis done, all words are idle, Words from me are vainer still ; But the thoughts we cannot bridle Force their way against the will. Fare-thee-well, thus disunited, Torn from every nearer tie, Sear'd in heart, and lone, and blighted, More than this, — I scarce can die. ERE AROUND THE HUGE OAK. Ere around the huge oak, that o'ershadows yon mill, The fond ivy had dared to entwine ; Ere the church was a ruin that nods on the hill, Or a rook built his nest on the pine ; •SINGER S OWN BOOK. 183 Could I trace back the time, of a far distant date, Since my forefathers teiPd in this field ; And the farm I now hold on your honour's estate, Is the same which my grandfather till'd. He, dying, bequeath'd to his son a good name, Which, unsullied, descended to me; For my child I've preserved it, unblemished with shame, And it still from a spot shall go free. THE LAY OF THE WANDERING ARAB Away, away, my Barb and I, As free as wave, as fleet as wind, We sweep the sands of Araby, And leave a w r orld of slaves behind. Tis mine to range in this wild garb, Nor e'er feel lonely though alone] I would not change my Arab Barb, To mount a drowsy sultan's throne. Away, away, &c. Where the pale stranger dares not come, Proud e'er my native sands I rove, An Arab tent my only home, An Arab maid my only love. Here freedom dwells without a fear, Coy to the world, she loves the wild ; Who ever brings a fetter here, To chain the desert's fiery child? Away, away, &c AN OLD MAN WOULD BE WOOING. An old man would be wooing A damsel gay and young, But she, while he was suing, For ever laugh'd and sun An old man, an old man, will never do for mo For May and December can never agree. 184 THE AMERICAN — ■■■-■■■! '!■ ■ ■■■■l^ ■!■■! .1. ■■ — -I .1 — - — . — ■ — »■■-■■■■■ ■ ■ . H M — She sung till he was dozing — A youth by fortune bless'd, While Guardv's eyes were closing, Her hand delighted press'd. An old man, an old man, will never do for me, For May and December can never agree. Then kneeling, trembling, creeping, I vow 'twas much amiss, He watch'd the old man sleeping, And softly stole — a kiss. An old man, an old man, will never do for me, For May and December can never agree. THE SOLDIER'S ADIEU. Adieu, adieu, my only life, My honour calls me from thee, Remember thou'rt a soldier's wife, Those tears but ill become thee ; What though by duty I am call'd, Where thundering cannons rattle, "Where valour's self might stand appall'd, Where valour's self might stand appall'd, When on the wings of thy dear love, To heaven above Thy fervent orisons are flown, The tender prayer thou puttest up there, Shall call a guardian angel down, Shall call a guardian angel down, To watch me in the battle. My safety thy fair truth shall be, As sword and buckler serving, My life shall be more dear to me, Because of thy preserving : Let peril come, let horror threat, Let thundering cannons rattle, I fearless seek the conflict's heat ; Assur'd when on the wings of love, To heaven above, &c. SINGER S OWN BOOK. 186 Enough, with that benignant smile Some kindred god inspired thee, Who saw thy bosom void of guile, Who wonder'd, and admir'a thee: I go assur'd. my life, adieu, Though thundering cannons rattle, Though murdering carnage stalk in view, When on the wings of thy true love, To heaven above, &c. A HIGHLAND LADDIE HEARD OF WAR. A highland laddie heard of war, Which set his heart in motion; He heard the distant cannon roar, He saw the smiling ocean : Come weal, come woe, To sea he'd go, And left, one morning early- Loch Lomond Ben, And the willow glen, And Jean that loved him dearly. He wander'd east, he wander'd south, But joy he could not find it ,* But he found out this wholesome truth And had the sense to mind it, — Of a' the earth, The bonny north To cherish late and early ; Loch Lomond Ben, And the willow glen, And Jean that loved him dearly. HENRYS COTTAGE MAID. Ah ! where can fly my soul's true love ? Sad I wander this lone grove ; Sighs and tears for him I shed, Henry is from Laura fled. 186 THE AMERICAN Thy love to me thoi didst impart, Thy love soon won my virgin heart ; But, dearest Henry, thou'st betray'd Thy love with thy poor cottage maid. Through the vale my grief appears, Sighing sad, with pearly tears; Oft thy image is my theme, As I wander on the green : See from my cheek the colour flies, And love's sweet hope within me dies ^ For oh ! dear Henry thoifst betray'd Thy love with thy "dear cottage maid. THE DOWNHTLL OF LIFE. In the downhill of life when I find I'm declining, May my fate no less fortunate be, Than a snug elbow chair can afford for reclining, And a cot that o'erlooks the wide sea ; With an ambling pad pony to pace o'er the lawn, While I carol away idle sorrow ; And blithe as the lark that each day hails the dawn, Look forward with hope for to-morrow. With a porch at my door, both for shelter and shade toe, As the sunshine or rain may prevail, And a small spot of ground for the use of the spade too, With a barn for the use of the flail; A cow for my dairy, a dog for my game, And a purse when my friend wants to borrow ; I'd envy no nabob his riches or fame, Or the honours that wait him to-morrow. From the bleak northern blast, may my cot be com- pletely Secured by a neighbouring hill, And at night may repose steai on me more sweetly, By the sound of a murmuring rill. singer's own book. 187 And while peace and plenty I find at my board, With a heart free from sickness and sorrow, With my friends will I share what to-day may afford, And fet them spread the table to-morrow. And when I at last must throw off this frail covering, Which I've worn for years three-score and ten; On the brink of the grave I'll not seek to keep hover- IN or my thread wish to spin o'er again ; But my lace in the glass I'll serenely survey, And with smiles count each wrinkle and furrow ; As this worn out old stuff, which is thread-bare to-day May become everlasting to-morrow. LOVE AMONG THE ROSES. Young Love flew to the Pa phi an bower, And gathered sweets from many a flower, From roses and sweet jessamine, The lily and the eglantine ; The Graces there were culling posies, And found young Love among the roses. Oh happy day ! oh joyous hour ! Compose a wreath from every flower; Let's bind him to us, ne'er to sever, Young Love shall dwell with us for ever; Eternal spring the wreath composes, Content to live among the roses. Young Love among the roses, &c. THE LAD THAT I LOVE. The lad that I love no lassie shall know, oh ! oh . The path that he treads to no one I'll show, oh! oh ! His heart is all truth whenever we meet, Then why should new faces e'er teach him deceit ? Oh, no, I will keep him and cherish him so, oh ! oh. That beauty herself sha'n't tempt him to go, oh! oh ' 188 THE AMERICAN The church is hard by I very well know, oh! oh! He showed me the door, and pressed my hand so, oh! oh! Love, honour, obey, are the w r ords to be said, And I'll say 'em and keep 'em whenever I wed, That is, if I marry the man that I know, oh ! oh ! If not, poor soul, I shall bother him so, oh ! oh ! My fortune's my face, which I hope I may show, oh! oh! 'Tis honest, and that is a treasure I know, oh! oh ! This poor little hand is all I can give, And where I once pledge it, it ever shall live ; For the heart's in the hand I mean to bestow 7 , oh ! oh ! And hands are the gifts which make the heart glow oh! oh! THE YOUNG MAY MOON. The young May moon is beaming, love, The glow-worm's lamp is gleaming, love, How sweet to rove Through Morna's grove, While the drowsy world is dreaming, love ! Then wake ! the heavens look bright, my dear ! 'Tis never too late for delight, my dear! And the best of all ways, To lengthen our days, Is to steal a few hours from the night, my dear ! Now all the world is sleeping, love, But the sage his star-watch keeping, love ; And I, whose star, More glorious far, Is the eye from that casement peeping, love ! Then wake, till rise of sun, my dear! The sage's glass we'll shun, my dear, Or, in w 7 atching the flight Of bodies of light, He might happen to take thee for one, my dear ! singer's own book. 189 THE MISERIES OF SATURDAY There is no peace about the house, In kitchen, parlour, hall, There is no comfort in the house On Saturday at all. Where'er you turn, a noise assails Of brushes, brooms, and mops; Besides a host of pans and pails, For various stinking slops. Then there's rubbing, scrubbing, tearing, swearing, sounding ev'ry way; Of all the days throughout the week, the worst is Saturday. Hark ! is that dread thunder near, Or noisy drum and fife ? Oh, no, the music that I hear, Is charwoman and wife ! Botli laughing, scolding, talking, singing, Gad ! there's such a din, That all Babel's workmen ringing, Conquered, must give in — To their rubbing, scrubbing, tearing, swearing, echo big ev'ry way," Of all the days within the week, the worst is Satur- day ! In apron blue now T comes your belle, And gown, well stored with holes; For colour, it might passing well Claim kindred with the coals. Then, she says, " You know, my dear, Some make their husbands rue, By taking their good clothes to wear, When any thing will do, For their scrubbing, rubbing, wearing, tearing."— Oh, curse them all, I say ; Of all the days throughout the week, the worst is Saturday. 190 THE AMERICAN Begrimed with dust, with dirt, and grease, She now sits down to dine ; At banyan day, of bread and cheese, You now must not repine ; Your goods and chattels, now displaced, All in confusion stand ; Some are broke, and some defaced, By each destructive hand, With their rubbing, scrubbing, tearing, swearing, sounding ev'ry way ; Of all the days within the week, the w r orst is Satur- day. At length, thank fate ! the warfare's o'er, But now, the peevish frump Insists that all across the floor We must hop., skip, and jump, For fear the milk-white boards should soil, Or furniture bewray: Ah ! wo to him that dares to spoil The work of Saturday, After rubbing, scrubbing, tearing, swearing, all their time away; Of all the days that make the week, the worst is Saturday. Then, to avoid a din and noise, For rational delight, We haste to join some jolly boys On Saturday at night ; When we're met, a jovial set, We drive dull care away, In harmony, we soon forget The woes of Saturday, And their rubbing, scrubbing, tearing, swearing, all the live-long day ; For the night of mirth will soon requite the woes of Saturday. BIXGER 8 OWN COOK. TO I BLUE-EYED MARY. Come, toll me, blue-eyed stranger Say, whither dost thou roam? O'er this wide world a ranger, Hasi thou no friends or home ? They called me blue-eyed Mary, When friends and fortunes smiled; But ah ! how fortunes vary, I now am sorrow's child.' Come here, 1*11 buy thy flowers, And ease thy hapless lot, Still wet with vernal showers, I'll buy, forget me not. *Kind sir, then take these posies, They're fading like my youth, But never, like these roses, Shall wither Mary's truth.' Look up, thou poor forsaken, I'll give thee house and home, And if I'm not mistaken, Thou'lt never wish to roam. 'Once more I'm happy Mary, Once more has fortune smiled; Who ne'er from virtue vary, May yet be fortune's child.' THE DE'IL CAM' FIDDLIN. The de'il cam' fiddlin through the town, And • d awa wi' the exciseman, And ilka wife ci i 8, Auld Mahoun, I wish you luck o' the prize man. The de'ii's awa wi' the exciseman, lie's danced awa, danced awa, He's danced awa wi' the exciseman 192 THE AMERICAN We'll mak' our maut, and we'll brew our drink, We'll laugh and sing and rejoice, man, A.nd mony braw thanks to the muckle black de'il That danced awa wi' the exciseman. The de'il's awa, &c. There's threesome reels, there's foursome reels, There's hornpipes and strathspeys, man, But the ae best dance e'er came to the land, Was The de'il's awa wi' the exciseman. The de'il's awa, &c. UPROUSE YE, THEN, MY MERRY MEN (A Gipsy Glee and Chorus.) The chough and crow to roost are gone, The owl sits on the tree, The hushed wind wails, with feeble moan, Like infant charity. The wild fire dances on the fen, The red star sheds its ray, Uprouse ye, then, my merry men, It is our op'ning day. Chorus. Uprouse ye, then, my merry men, &c. Both child and nurse are fast asleep, And closed is ev'ry flower, And winking tapers faintly peep High from my lady's bower; Bewildered hinds, with shortened ken, Shrink on their murky way ; Uprouse ye, then, my merry men, It is our op'ning day. Uprouse ye, then, &c. Nor board nor garner own we now, Nor roof, nor latched door, Nor kind mate, bound by holy vow, To bless a good man's store ; SINGER S OWN BOOK. 193 Noon lulls us in a gloomy den, And night is grown our day, Upronse ye, then, my merry men, And use it as ye may. Uprouse ye, then, &c THE MILD SEGAR. A Parody on the Light Guitar. Oh. leave the noisy, smoky scene, The streets of glaring light, And take a stroll to Tumham-green, And we'll return at night. Then as we watch the stages pass, And hear their wheels afar; Of grog we'll take a cheerful glass, And smoke a mild segar. I'll tell you how a maiden swooned, And made a devilish din ; Her bottle fell upon the ground, Was broke* and spill'd her gin. I'll tell thee how a crowd drew nigh, Who heard her screams afar; And if my tale should prove too dry, Why take a glass with your segar. BEAUTIFUL MAID. When absent from her, my soul holds most dear, What medley of passions invade; In this bosom what anguish, what hope, and what fear, I endure for my beautiful maid. In vain I seek pleasure to lighten my grief, Or quit the gay throng for the shade, Nor retirement, nor solitude yields me relief, When away from my beautiful maid N 194 THE AMERICAN ANSWER TO KATE KEARNEY. Oh ! yes, I have seen this Kate Kearney, Who lives near the lake of Killamey ; From her love beaming eye, what mortal can fly, Unsubdued by the glance of Kate Kearney. That eye so seducingly meaning, Assures me of mischief she's dreaming, And I feel 'tis in vain, to fly from the chain That binds me to lovely Kate Kearney. At eve, when I've seen this Kate Kearney, On the flower mantled banks of Killamey, Her smile would impart thrilling joy to my hears* As I gazed on the charming Kate Kearney. On the banks of Killamey reclining, My bosom to rapture resigning, I've felt the keen smart, of love's fatal dart, And inhaled the warm sigh of Kate Kearney. NAE LUCK ABOUT THE HOUSE, And are ye sure the news is true ? And are ye sure he's weel ? Is this a time to ta'k o' wark } Mak' haste, set by your wheel ! Is this a time to ta'k o' wark, When Colin's at the door \ Gie me my cloak, I'll to the quay, And see him come ashore. For there's oae luck about the house, There's nae luck ava, There's little pleasure in the house, When our gudeman's awa. Rise up and mak' a clean fireside, Put on the meikle pot; Gie little Kate her cotton gown, And Jock his Sunday's coat; singer's own book. 195 And mak' their stioon as black as slaes, Their hose as white as snaw: It's a' to please my ain gudeman, For he's been Lang aw a. For there's nae luck, &c. There are twa hens upon the bauk, They've fed this month and mair; Mak' haste, and thravv their necks about, That Colin weci may fare : And spread the table neat and clean, Gar ilka thing look braw : It's a' for love o' my gudeman, For he's been lang awa. For there's nae luck, &c O gie me down my bigonets. My bishop-satin gown ; For I maun tell the Bailie's wife, That Colin's come to town : My Sunday's shoon they maun gae on, My hose o' pearl blue : It's a' to please my ain gudeman, For he's baith leal and true. For there's nae luck, &c. Sae true's his word, sae smooth's his speeco, His breath's like caller air, His very foot has music in't, 'When he comes up the stair. And will I see his face again ? And will I hear him speak t I'm downright dizzy wi' the thought ; In troth, I'm like to greet. For there's nae luck, &c. The cauld blasts o' the winter wind, That thirl'd through my heart, They're a' blawn by, I hae him safe, Till death we'll never part. 196 THE AMERICAN But what pits parting in my head ? It may be far awa ; The present moment is our ain, The neist we never saw. For there's nae luck, &c. Since Colin's weel, I'm weel content, I hae nae mair to crave ; Could I but live to mak' him blest, I'm blest aboon the lave : And will I see his face again? And will I hear him speak ? I'm downright dizzy wi' the thought; In troth, I'm like to greet. For there's nae luck, &c. ALLEN-A-DALE. Allen-a-Dale has no fagot for burning, Allen-a-Dale has no furrow for turning, Allen-a-Dale has no fleece for the spinning, Yet Alien-a-Dale has red gold for the winning. Come, read me my riddle ! come, hearken my tale, And teJl me the craft of bold Allen-a-Dale. The Baron of Ravensworth prances in pride, And he views his domains upon Arkindale side, The mere for his net, and the land for his game, The chase for the wild, and the park for the tame Yet tne fish of the lake, and the deer of the vale, Are less free to Lord Dacre than Ailen-a-Dale. Allen-a-Dale was ne'er bel'ed a knight, Though his spear be as sharp, and his blade be as bright : Allen-a-Dale is no baron or lord, Yet twenty bold yeomen will draw at his word ; And the best of our nobles his bonnet will vail, Who at Rere-cross or Sianmore meets Allen-a-Dalo SINGER S OWN BOOK. 197 Allen-a-Dalc to his wooing is come; The mother she ask'd of his house and his home : •Though the castle of Richmond stands fair on the hill, My hall,' quoth bold Allen, 'stands gallanter still: 'Tis the blue vaulted heaven, with its crescent so pale, And with all its bright spangles,' said Allen-a-Dale. The father was steel and the mother was stone, They lifted the latch, and they bade him begone : But loud on the morrow, their wail and their cry! He had laugh'd on the lass with his bonny black eye And she fled to the forest to hear a love tale, And the youth it was told by was Allen-a-Dale. AND HAS SHE THEN FAILED. And has she then fail'd in her truth ? The beautiful maid I adore ; Shall I never again hear her voice. Nor see her loved form any more ? No, no, no, I never shall see her more. Ah, Selima, cruel you prove, Yet sure my hard lot you'll bewail; I could not presume you would love, Yet pity I hoped would prevail. And since hatred alone I inspire, Life henceforth is not worth my care, Death now is my only desire, I give myself up to despair. AH NO! DEAREST, NO! It is not where bright eves are brightest, ir sweetest music wakes the tongue, Nor where the bounding step is lightest, A thousand gay compeers among. 198 THE AMERICAN 'Tis not where beams the loveliest beauty That round the heart a spell can throw, Aught can of mine defeat the duty, No, dearest, no ! ah no ! dearest, no ! It is not where the diamond trembles, Beneath the proudly glittering dome, Where pleasure all her train assembles, And seeks the heart in vain a home, A smile, a power, can e'er be given That worship'd charm to overthrow, That sheds o'er thee a grace of heaven, No, dearest, no! ah no! dearest, no! ANNA OF CONWAY. When morn's ruddy blushes illumine the sky, Away o'er the mountains I cheerfully hie, To the fair, or the market, whiche'er it may be, I care not, since Anna looks kindly on me, Yes ! Anna of Conway looks kindly on me. As I push off my boat, when the evening is gray, A supply to provide for the market next day, O'er the fisherman's labours I whistle with glee, Since Anna, sweet Anna, is watching for me, Yes! Anna of Conway is watching for me. Ere long, at the church, wedlock's knot will be tied Then proudly I'll bear to our cottage my bride ; My bosom from care and anxiety free, Since Anna, sweet Anna, smiles only for me, Yes! A.nna of Conway smiles only for me. BONNIE WEE WIFE. She is a winsome wee thing, She is a handsome wee thing, She is a bonnie wee thing, This sweet wee wife o' mine SINfiER'S OWN BOOK. 199 I never saw a direr, I never lo'ed a dearer, And iicisi my heart I'll wear tier, For fear ray jewel tine. She is a winsome wee thing, She is a handsome wee thing, She is a bonnie wee thing, This sweet wee wife o' mine. The warld's wraek we share o't, The warstle and the eare o't; Wi' her I'll blithely bear it, And think my lot divine- THE BIRKS OF ABERFELDY. Bonnie lassie, will ye go, will ye go, will ye go, Bonnie lassie, will ye go, to the Birks of Abeifeldy? Now simmer blinks on flowery braes, And o'er the crystal streamlets plays; Come let us spend the lightsome days In the Birks of Aberfeldy. Bonnie lassie, &e. While o'er their heads the hazels hing, The little birdies blithely sing, Or lightly flit on wanton wing In the Birks of Aberfeldy. Bonnie lassie, &c. The braes ascend like lofty wa's, The foaming stream deep-roaring fa's, O'erhung wi' fragrant spreading shaws, The Birks of Aberfeldy. Bonnie la«sie, &c. The hoary cliffs are crown'd wi' flowers, White o'er the linns the burnie pours, And, rising, weets wi' misty showers The Birks of Aberfeldv.' Bonnie lassie, &c. 200 THE AMERICAN Let fortune's gifts at random flee, They ne'er shall draw a wish frae me, Supremely bless'd wi' love and thee, In the Birks of Aberfeldy. Bonnie lassie, &c. BEHAVE YOURSEL' BEFORE FOLK. Air, — Good morrow to your night-cap. Behave yoursel' before folk, Behave yoursel' before folk, And dinna be sae rude to me, As kiss me sae before folk. It wadna gi'e me meikle pain, Gin we were seen and heard by nane, To tak' a kiss, or grant you ane; But, gudesake! no before folk. Behave yoursel' before folk, Behave yoursel' before folk. Whate'er you do, when out o' view, Be cautious aye before folk. Consider, lad, how folk will crack, And what a great affair they'll mak' O' naething but a simple smack, That's gien or taen before folk. Behave yoursel' before folk, Behave vourseP before folk; Nor gi'e the tongue o' auld or young Occasion to come o'er folk. It's no through hatred o' a kiss, That I sae plainly tell you this; But, losh! I tak' it sair amiss To be sae teas'd before folk. Behave yoursel' before folk, Behave yoursel' before folk ; ',Vhen we're our lane ye may tak' ane But fient a ane before folk. singer's own book. 201 I'm sum wi' yon I've been ai free As ony modest lass should be ; But yet, it doetna do to see freedom used before folk. Behave yoorsel' before folk, Belia ve yoursel' before folk, I'll ne'er submit again to it — So mind you that — before folk. Ve tell me that my faee is fair; It may be sac — I dinna care — But ne'er again L r ar't blush sae sair - ye hae done before folk, Behave yoursel' before folk, Behave yoursel' before folk; Nor heat my cheeks wi' your mad freaks, But aye be douce before folk. Ye tell me that my lips are sweet; Sic tales, I doubt, are a' deceit; At ony rate, it's hardly meet To prie their sweets before folk. Behave yoursel' before folk, Behave yoursel' before folk; Gin that's the case, there's time and place, But surely no before folk. But, gin ye really do insist That I should suffer to be kiss'd, Gae, get a license frae the priest, And mak' me yours before folk. Behave yoursel' before folk, Behave yoursel' before folk; And when we're ane, bath flesh and bane, Ye may tak' ten — before folk. BID ME DISCOURSE. Bid me discourse, I will enchant thine ear, Or like a fairy trip upon the green. Or like a nymph with bright and flowing hair, Dance on the sands, and yet no footing seen. 202 THE AMERICAN MERRILY DANCE ROUND THE MISSLETOE TREE. Come hither! come hither! the silver light Of the moon shines cheerfully down to-night. Come hither! for this is the season of glee, Let us merrily dance round the missletoe tree. Oh! welcome, thou plant of the sacred grove; Thou innocent pledge of Druidical love.' I care not how distant the nymph may be, So I have but a branch of the missletoe tree. The missletoe tree has been hallowed before; Be it thrice sacred now for the girl we adore; When sanctioned, this pearl-berried plant of the grove, Will yield us the first virgin kiss of her love. Come hither! then, come! w-hile the moon shines bright ; The heavens themselves beam out joy to-night. Come hither! for this is the season of glee; Let us merrily dance round the missletoe tree. DESERTED BY DECLINING DAY. Air,— All's Well. Deserted by declining day, When weary wights benighted stray From bush or cavern we appear, And scare the traveller's frighted ear, With — stand or die— good night— all's welL Or riding home from fair or feast, Some farmer plodding o'er his beast; His wit o'ertopp'd by humming ale, While thus the joskins we assail : Down every stiver quickly tell, Your watch, your purse — good night — all's weJL singer's own BOOK. 203 DEAR NATIVE HOME. Far o'er the wave, as mom's soft beam returning, Slowly unveil'd the well-remember'd shore, How swcll'd my heart, with eager fancies burning, Dreams of past joys, and hopes of priceless store! Sweet home, receive me! Faithful I come, Never to leave thee, Dear native home! Vainly for me love's signal radiance bright'ning Flamed from his altars o'er my truant way, — Absent from thee — the summer's beauteous lightning Less harmful play'd not round the fading day. Sweet home, m being thine. In vain thou bidst me to forget thee, Death will first, will first be mine — E'en then my flitting soul shall bless thee, For my heart, my heart is thine. Each thought that haunts my fever'd brain, From love's first dawn is thine, is thine, And this the latest, breathes again That my heart, my heart is thine. WELCOME ME HOME. Gaily the Troubadour touch'd his guitar, When he was hastening home from the war Singing, 'From Palestine, hither I come, Lady love, lady love, welcome me home.' 218 THE AMERICAN She for the Troubadour, hopelessly wept, Sadly she thought of him, when others slept, Singing, ' In search of thee, would I might roam, Troubadour, troubadour, come to thy home.' Hark! 'twas the Troubadour, breathing her name, Under the battlement softly he came, Singing, ' From Palestine, hither I come, Lady love, lady love, welcome me home/ LOVE IN THE HEART. What is it that drives the red rose from the cheek, Or the lily displace, by blushes that speak? That dims the bright beam by a tear in the eye, That checks the young smile by the murm'ringsigh? 'Tis love, 'tis love in the heart, 'Tis love, 'tis love in the heart. What bids the soul the emotion declare, By the glance of an eye, when the lips do not dare? 'Tis love, 'tis love in the heart, 'Tis love, 'tis love in the heart And what, when its meaning another can guess, Emboldens the tongue the fond thought to express? 'Tis love, 'tis love in the heart, 'Tis love, 'tis love in the heart. ALKXOMOOK. The sun sets at night and the stars shun the day, But glory remains when the light fades away; Begin, ye tormentors, your threats are in vain, 1 or the son of Alknomook shall never complain. Remember the arrows he shot from his bow, Remember your chiefs by his hatchet laid low; Why so slow! do you wait till I shrink from my pain? No — the son of Alknomook shall never complain- singer's own book. 219 Remember the wood, where in ambush wo lay, And the scalps which we bora from your nation aw a Now the flame rises fast, you exult in my pain; But the son of Alknomook shall never complain. I go to the land where ray rather is gone,; His ghost shall rejoice in the fame of his son; Death comes like a friend, to relieve me from pain, And thy son, oh! Alknomook, has scorn'd to com plain. BURIAL OF SIR THOMAS MOORE. Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note, As his corse to the ramparts we hurried ; Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot, O'er the grave w here our hero we buried. We buried him darkly at dead of night, The sod with our bayonets turning; By the struggling moonbeam's misty light, And the lantern dimly burning. No useless coffin confined his breast. Nor in sheet or shroud we bound him; But he lav like a warrior taking his rest, Willi his martial cloak around him. Few and short were the prayers we said, And we spoke not a word of sorrow : But we steadfastly gazed on the race of the dead, And we bitterly thought of the morrow. We thought, as we heap'd his narrow bed, And smoothed down his lonely pillow, That the toe and the stranger would tread o'er his head. And we far away on the billow! Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone, And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him ; But nothing he'll reck if they'll let him sleep on. In the grave w here a. Briton has laid him. 220 THE AMERICAN But half our heavy task was done, When the clock toll'd the hour for retiring, And we heard by the distant and random gun, That the foe was sullenly firing. Slowly and sadly we laid him down, From the field of his fame fresh and gory; We carved not a line, we raised not a stone ; But we left him alone in his glory. MERRILY BOUNDS THE BARK. Merrily, merrily, bounds the bark, She bounds before the gale; The mountain breeze from Binnadarch Is joyous in her sail. With fluttering sound, like laughter hoarse The cords and canvass strain; The waves, divided by her force, In rippling eddies chase her course, As if they laugh'd again. Merrily, merrily bounds the bark, O'er the broad ocean driven ; Her path by Ronin's mountain dark, The steersman's hand has given. Merrily, merrily goes the bark, On a breeze from the northward free, So shoots through the morning sky the lark, Or the swan through the summer sea. Merrily, merrily goes the bark, Before the gale she bounds ; So flies the dolphin from the shark, Or the deer before the hounds. They paused not at Columbia's isle, Though peal'd the bells from the holy pile With long and measured toil : ]\o time for matin or for mass, And the sounds of the holy summons pass Away in the billow's roll. singer's own book. 221 THE THORN. From the white-blossom'd sloe, my dear Chloe re- quested A sprig her fair breast to adorn; No, by heavens! I exclaim'd, may I perish, if ever I plant in that bosom a thorn. Then I show'd her a ring, and implored her to marry; She blush 'd like the dawning of morn ; Yes, I'll consent, she replied, if you'll promise That no jealous rival shall laugh me to scorn. No, by heavens! I exclaim'd, may I perish, if ever I plant in that bosom a thorn. MY HIGHLAND HOME. My Highland home, where tempests blow, And cold thy wintry looks, Thy hills are crown'd with driven snow And ice-bound are thy brooks ; But colder far the Scotsman's heart, However far he roam. To whom these words no joy impart, — My native Highland home. Then gang with me to Scotland, dear, We ne'er again will roam ; And with thy smiles, so bonny, cheer My native Highland home. When summer comes, the heather bell Shall tempt thy feet to rove ; The cushat dove, within the dell, Invites to peace and lo\ For blithesome is the face of day, And sweet's the bonnie broom ; And pure the dimpling rills (hat play Around my Highland home. Then gang with me to Scotland, &c. 222 THE AMERICAN THE MULETEER. Soon as the sun his early ray Across the misty mountain flings; The Muleteer now takes his way, And merrily thus he sweetly sings: Oh haste, my mules, we must not creep, Nor saunter on so slow; Our journey's long, the mountain steep, We've many a league to go. At fall of eve, his labour o'er, He homeward hastes, and sings with glee; My mules, speed to my cottage door, For there my Lilla waits for me. Speed on, my mules, the sun sets fast, The shades of night I see; There's many a league yet to be pass'd, And Lilla waits for me. THE MULETEER'S RETURN. 'Tis night — where strays my muleteer ? Ah! why does he from Lilla roam? For well he knows my heart is drear, When he is from his mountain home ; But, soft! what music greets mine ear? What strain comes o'er the dell ? Oh ! joy to me, the night- winds bear The sound of distant bell. Oh! speed ye, mules, the queen of night Hath kiss'd the sparkling mountain rills, And spread her fairest robes of light, To guide ye o'er the drerry hills. They come! they come! their tramp I hear, Their weary forms I see, And soon they'll bear my muleteer In joy again to me. singer's own book. 223 PIRATE'S SOXG. Oh! lady, come to ihe Indies with me, And reign and rule on the sunny sea; My ship ilace, my deck's a throne, And all shall be thine, love, the sun shines on. Then ladv, &c. A gallant ship and a boundless sea, A piping wind, and the foe on our lee, My pennon streaming so gay from the mast, My cannon flashing so bright and fast. Then, lady, &c. Raven locks are worth Java's Isle, Can the spices of Saba buy thy srnile ? The glories of sea and the splendour of land, They all shall be thine for the wave of thy hand Then, lady, &c. THE LAY OF THE MIXSTREL KXIGHT. 'Oh! list to my lay,' said a minstrel gray, As he paused at a baron's proud hall, The lord said ' Nay,' the lady said ' Aj e,' But fair Ernmehne spoke not at all. Then a strain he sung, till the castle walls rung, For his voice had wondrous power; And sweet was the tale, as the summer eve's gale When it kisses the sleeping flower. 'In the holy land, on king Richard's right hand, Fought one for his lady-love ; By a father's nride his suit was denied, But vows are recorded above.' Fair Ernmehne listened, until her eye glisten'd With trembling yet sweet surprise ; For the minstrel, she knew, was her Leoline true, Though shrouded iu dim disguise ! 224 THE AMERICAN WOMAN'S WORTH. Oh! not when hopes are brightest, Is all love's sweet enchantment known: Oh! not when hearts are lightest, Is all fond woman's fervour shown: But when life's clouds o'ertake us, And the cold world is clothed in gloom; When summer friends forsake us, The rose of \ove is best in bloom. Love is no wandering vapour, That lures astray with treach'rous spark; Love is no transient taper, That lives an hour and leaves us dark: But, like the lamp that lightens The Greenland hut beneath the snow, The bosom's home it brightens, When all beside is chill below. THE MOUNTAIN SHEPHERD'S LAY. Oh! roam with me o'er distant hills, When day is in the west; And when upon the mountain rills, The twilight sinks to rest. When listening echo leaves her cell, And wanders on her way; Or when she bears o'er hill and dell, The mountain shepherd's lay. For wild and simple though it be, That strain of joy can tell, And bring in memory back to me, The hours I loved so well; When hopes were young and hearts w ere warm, And one with me would stray, And hear, at eve, in storm or calm, The mountain shepherd's lay. singer's own book. 220 Till: FIDDLER BOY. Air, — The Minstrel Boy, The Fiddler's Boy to the fair is gone, In a rattling booth you'll find him, With baa master's fiddle (for his own's in pawn) In a green bag slung behind him. 'House of Malt,' says the fuddling elf, 'Though all the world despise thee, One fiddler is left, and will spend his last pelf, One fiddler will still pairomze thee.' The fiddler drank till it got quite late, And the table he fell under; Ills fiddle was broke by the fall and weight, And the eatsiut torn asunder. Savs he, -No one shall ever know Thy sounds which did so 'cord well,' So he smack'd across his knee the bow, Then went to sleep and snored well. WHEN SHOULD LOVERS. When should lovers breathe their vows? When should ladies hear them? When the dew is on the l>oughs, When none else are near them. When the moon shines cold and pale, When the birds are sleeping, When no voice is on the gale, When the rose is weeping. Oh! softest is the cheek's love ray, When seen by moonlight flowers, Other roses seek the day. But blushes are night hours When the moon find itari are bright, When the dew-drops glisten, Then their rows should lovers plight Then should Jadies listen. P 226 THE AMERICAN THE SAILOR'S RETURN. A Sequel to Black-Eyed Susan. The moon had burst the clouds of heaven, When Susan sought the wreck-strewn shore, By grief and woe her bosom riven, Her shipwreck'd William to deplore: While gazing on the watery waste, A floating form her eye descried, And the next heaving billow placed Her lover by the maiden's side. '• Susan, for thee the storm I braved, While angry surges round me roar'd% And see, by bounteous mercy saved, Thy sailor to thine arms restored !" His well-known voice her fears beguiled,. His glowing kiss her sorrows dried ; And the next morning's sunbeams smiled On Susan as her William's bride ! THE PLAIN GOLD RING He was a chief of low degree, A lady high and fair was she ! She dropp d a ring, — he raised the gem, Twas rich as eastern diadem f *Nay, as your mistress' trophy, take The toy, when next a lance you break/ He to the tourney rode away, And bore ofT glory's wreath that day- How did his ardent bosom beat, When, hastening to that lady's feet, The wreath and ring he proudly laid; But, 'Keep them, youth,' that lady saidy 4 Nay, gem so rich I may not wear, . ITowe'er return a gift so rare.' 'Dear youth, a plain gold ring, 7 she sigh'd, 4 From you were worth the world beside? singer's own book. 22? WAKE! LADY, WAKE! Wake! lady, wake! the midnight moon Sails through the cloudless night of June; The stars gaze sweetly on the stream, Which, in the brightness of their beam, One sheet of glory lies. The glow-worm lends its little light, And all that's beautiful and bright Is shining in this world to-night, Save thy bright eyes! Then wake ! lady, wake ! Wake! lady, wake! the nightingale Sings to the moon her love-lorn tale, Now doth the brook that's hush'd by day, As through the vale she winds her way, In murmurs soft rejoice ; The leaves the midnight winds have stirr'd, Are whisp'ring many a gentle word, And ail earth's sweetest sounds are heard, Save thy sweet voice ! Then wake ! lady, wake ! WE'RE A' NODDIN. We're a' noddin, nid, nid, noddin, And we're a' noddin, at our house at hame: When the dame's awa' it's the time to play, And the lads love lasses and the lasses love lads too Kate sits in the nuke, with her laddie so tiue, And the carle tak' ye a', for ye're a' noddin too. And we're a' noddin, &c. We're a' noddin, nid, nid, noddin, And we're a' noddin, at our house at hame: And how d'ye do, kimmer, and how d'ye thrive, And how many bairns ba 1 ye I Kimmer, I ha' five And are they a' at hame I Oh! na, na, na, Twa others with Willie far awa. And we're a' noddin, &c, 228 THE AMERICAN WHEN THE EVENING STAR IS PEEPING. When the evening slar is peeping Over every vale and dell, Then we Fairies watch are keeping In the dew-clad flovv'ret's beil. When the merry chimes are ringing, When the moon shines o'er the lake, Then our voices' tuneful singing, Steals like magic through the brake. When the eveniug star, &c. When the dew drops from the flower, When the sun sinks in the west, When at silent midnight hour All the busy world's at rest: Then we roam at large, with pleasure, Frisking in the moonbeam's gleam, To the lute's soft dulcet measure, Near the rippling silver stream. When the evening star, &c CAPTAIN BELL. When you took lodgings in my neat first floor, And your regiment first marched into town ; Before I had seen your sweet face half an hour I lent you, my jewel, half a crown, Captain Bell! Captain Bell! 'Tis yourself that knows well how to borrow And you put off the people so well, With ycur ' Call and I'll pay you to-morrow/ Captain Bell! Captain Bell! And w r heii you treated us all to the play Did I not lend you the cash ? And when you ask'd us to come and drink lay My plated fai/-pol cut the dash, Captain Bell ! Captain Bell ! singer's own rook. 229 Tis not for my toy-pot I sorrow, Though I know it is sale mighty well, I beg you'll return it to-morrow, Captain Bell! Captain Bell! But if a rich widow would lie in your way, 'Tis myself, Widow Brady, \s your man; You shall live at free quarters, with nothing to pay Come, fellow me that if vou can, Captain Bell! Captain Bell! 'Tis better to marry than borrow, And although you may think you're a swell, You must settle my bill, sir, to-morrow Captain Bell ! taptain Bell ! BRING FLOWERS. By Mrs Hcnwns. Bring flowers, young flowers, to the festal board, To wreathe the cup ere the wine is pour'd. Bring flowers! they are springing in wood and vale Their breath floats out on the southern gale, And the touch of the sunbeam hath waked the rose To deck the hall where the bright wine flows. Bring flowers, to strew in the conqueror's path — He hath shaken thrones with his stormy wrath! He comes with the spoils of nations back; The vines lie crush'd in his chariot's track; The turf looks red whore he won the day; — Bring flowers to die in the conqueror's way. Bring flowers to the captive's lonely cell. They have tales of the joyous woods to tell, Of the free blue streams, and the glowing sky, And the bright world shut from his languid eye, They will bear him a thought of the sunny hours, \.nd a dream of his youth — bring him flowers, wild flowers. 230 THE AMERICAN Bring flowers, fresh flowers, for the bride to wear! They were born to blush in her shining hair: She is leaving the home of her childish mirth; She hath bid farewell to her father's hearth ; Her place is now by another's side — Bring flowers, for the locks of the fair young bride. Bring flowers, pale flowers, o'er the bier to shed, A crown for the brow of the early dead J For this, through its leaves hath the white rose burst, For this, in the woods was the violet, nursed. Though they smile in vain lor what once was ours, They are love's last gift — bring ye flowers, pale flowers. • Bring flowers to the shrine where we kneel in prayer; They are nature's offering, their place is there • They speak of hope to the fainting heart ; With a voice of promise they come and part. They sleep in dust through the wintry hours; They break forth in glory — bring flowers, bring flowers ! THE ROSE WILL CEASE TO BLOW. The rose will cease to blow, The eagle turn a dove ; The stream will cease to flow, Ere I will cease to love, Ere I will cease to love, Ere I will cease to love. The stream will cease to flow, Ere I will cease to love. The sun will cease to shine, The world will cease to move, The slars their light resign, Ere I will cease to love. Ere I will cense to love, Ere I will cense lo love. The stars their light resign, Ere I will cease to love. singer's own book. 231 OH NO, I NEVER MENTIONED IT. Air, — Oh no, TU never mention him. Oh no, I never mention'd it, I never said a word ,* But lent my friend my five pound note, Of which — I never heard! He said he borrowed it To pay another debt — And since I've never mentioned it, He thinks tlrat I forget ! Whene'er we ride, /pays the 'pike; 1 settles every treat ; He rides my cob — he drives my cob — But cuts me when we meet ! My new umbrelF I lent him too, One night 'twas very wet; Though he forgets it ne'er came back, Ah me — /don't forget! To Sally Sims, my own true love, Few visits can 1 pay: But think how kind my friend behaves, . He calls on her each day! By him I've sent rich pearls and rings, With fruit and flowers a lot : The fruit and flavors came safe to hand, The rest — my friend forgot! Sometimes I treats Miss to the play, And, what 1 can't abide, Is when /just sits down by her My friend's at t' other sine! Such whisp'ring and such quizzing too. They keep, to make roe fret ; — I know 'tis only 'make believe, 1 But still I can't fargeL 232 THE AMERICAN 'A friend in need's a friend indeed,' This /have found quite true : For mine is such a needy friend , He sticks to me like glue ! We're like, they say — for oft have I Been taken for — his debts : He makes so free with me and mine. Himself he quite — forgets ! THE DENOUNCED. Air, — Where shall the lover resL We never breathe his name, Like the departed ; His memory's dead to fame, Traitor ! false hearted ! He is to us, a thing Painful to number, O'er him oblivion's wing Broods in dark slumber. We never breathe his name, Like the departed ; His memory's dead to fame ; Traitor ! false hearted ! He should have been a light Shining to bless us, But proved the storm and blight Sent to distress us. NO MORE BY SORROW. No more by sorrow chased, my heart Shall yield to fell despair; Now joy repels the envenom'd dart, And conquers every care. So in our woods the hunted boar On nature's strength relies: The forests echo with his roar, In turn the hunter dies. singer's own book. 233 O LASSIE, ART THOU SLEEPING YET. Air, — Let me in this ae night. O lassie, art thou Bleeping yet, Or art thou wikin, I would wit? For love has bound me hand and foot, And I would fain he in, jo. O let me in this ae night, This ae, ae. ae night ; For pity's sake this ae night, rise and let me in, jo. Thou hear'st the winter wind and weet, Nae star blinks through the driving sleet; Tak' pity on my weary feet, And shield me frae the rain, jo. O let me in, &c. The bitter blast that round me blaws Unheeded howls, unheeded fa's; The eauluness of thy heart's the cause Of a' my 2rief and pain, jo. let me in, &c. HER ANSWER. O tell na me o' wind and rain, Upbraid na me with ran Id disdain, Gae back the gate ye cam' again, I winna let you in, jo. J tell you now this ae night, This ae, ae, ae night ; And ance for a' this ae night, 1 winna let ye in, jo. The sncllest blast, at mirkest hours, That round the pathless wand'rer pour* Ts nocht to what poor she endures, That's trusted faithless man, jo. 1 tell you now, &c. 234 THE AMERICAN The sweetest flower that deck'd the mead, Now trodden like the vilest weed Let simple maid the lesson read, The weird may be her ain, jo. I tell you now, &c. The bird that charm'd his summer-day, Is now the cruel fowler's prey ; Let witless, trusting woman say How aft her fate's the same, jo. I teli you now, &c. THE LAND OF LOVE AND LIBERTY, Air, — Rule Britannia. Hail, great republic of the world ! The rising empire of the west; When famed Columbus' mighty mind impress'd Cave Europe's sons a place of rest. Be thou for ever, ever blest and free, The land of love and liberty. Beneath thy spreading mantling vines, Beside thy flowery groves and springs, And on thy lofty, lofty mountains' brow, May all thy sons and fair ones sing, Be thou for ever, &c From thee may future nations learn, To prize the cause thy sons began ; From thee may future, future tyrants know, That sacred are the rights of man. Be thou for ever, &e. Of thee may sleeping infancy The pleasing wondrous story tell; And patriot sage, in venerable mood, Instruct the world to govern well. Be thou for ever, &6. singer's own book. 235 May guardian angels watch around. From harm protect these new-horn states, And all ye friendly, friendly nations join, And thus salute trie child of late. Be thou lor ever, &c. TOO MANY LOVERS. Young Susan had lovers so many that she Hardly knew upon which to decide; They all ■poke sincerely and promised to be So worthy of such a sweet bride. In the morning she'd gossip with William, and then The noon would be spent with young Harry, The evening with John, so amongst all the men She never could tell which to marry. Heigho! heigho! I'm afraid, Too man}- lovers will puzzle a maid. Now William grew jealous and so went away, And Harry got tired of wooing; And John having teased her to fix on the dn Received onlv frowns for so doing. So amongst all her lovers, quite left in the lurch, She wept every night on her pillow; And meeting, one day. a pair going to church, Turn'd away, and died under a wiBow. Heigho! heigho! I'm afraid, tire. THE LILY OF NITIISDALE. She's gane to dwall in heaven, my lassie, She's gane to dwall in heaven, • Ye're owre pure,' quo' a voice aboon, 1 For d walling out o' heaven.' O what'll she do in heaven, mv lassie ? O what'll she do in heaven 1 She'll mix her own thoughts wi' angels' sangs, An' make them mair meet for heaven. 236 THE AMERICAN She was beloved of a', my lassie ; She was beloved of a' ; But an angel feil in love wi' her, And took her frae us a'. Low there she lies, my lassie, Low there she lies. A bonnier form ne'er went to the yird, Nor frae it will arise. There's nought but dust now mine, my lassie, There's nought but dust now mine ; My soul's wi' thee i' the cauld, cauld grave An' why should I scay behin' ? I look'd on thy death shut eye, my lassie, I look'd on thy death-shut eye ; An' a lovelier sight in the brow o' heaven Fell time shall ne'er destroy. Thy lips were ruddie and calm, my lassie, Thy lips were ruddie and calm ; But gane was the holy breath o' heaven To sing the evening psalm. O LISTEN TO THE VOICE OF LOVE. O listen, listen to the voice of Love, He calls my Daphne to the grove. The primrose sweet bedecks the field, The tuneful birds invite to rove, To softer jovs let splendour yield : O listen, listen to the voice of Love. Where flowers their blooming sweets exhale, My Daphne, let us fondly stray, Where whisp'ring Love brea'.hes forlh his tale, And shepherds sing their artless lay: O listen, listen to the voice of Love, He calls my Daphne to the grove. singer's own book. 237 Come share with me the sweets of spring, And Leave the town's tumultuous noise; The happy swains all cheerful sing, And echo still repeats their joys. Then listen, listen to the voice of Love, He calls my Daphne to the grove. THE BONNY SLEIGH. Air, — T/.c bonny boat. O swiftly glides the bonny sleigh, Just parted from the door, With jingling bells and horses' neigh, The snow dash'd up before. This pleasure now, and happy cheer Are much enjoy 'd indeed ; With blooming belles *o us so dear, To Laurel Hill we'll speed. We east onr lines upon the rails, Where snow had drifted wide ; Our bonny sleigh, coats, hats and veils, Were all then laid aside: Then happy proved the merry dance Upon the mansion floor; While wine and cider mull'd and warm, Came in at every door. The skaters on the ice may sing, Whilst all around they oliarm; But we prefer the sleigh bell's ring, When all wrapp'd up so warm: It safely bears its lovely store Through many a Btormy gale: Whilst joyful shouts from half a score. Our merry party hail. We cast our lines upon the rails, Where snow had drifted wide; Our bonny sleigh, < oats, hats and veils, Were all then laid aside : 238 THE AMERICAN Then happy prov'd the jolly folks, With ne'er a sigh nor care : We'll now return and crack some jokes. Where all our treasures are. New near the city we are come, The lamps I plainly see: From the good dame we left at home, Our welcome warm will be : The w 7 ell known shout, and sleigh bells' ri Seem echoing in her ears ; Now come, my boys, let's loudly sing, She'll soon forget her fears. We'll cast our lines upon the post, That stands before the door, And then we'll all our fingers toast, And sleigh a little more. Then happy prove each pleasant jaunt Upon the wintry plain ; I'm sure we shall not sleighing want, If snow don't turn to rain. THE AMERICANS STAR. Come, strike the bold anthem, the war dogs are howling, Already they eagerly snuff up their prey, The red clouds of wsr o'er our forests are scowling, Soft peace spreads her wings and flies weeping away ; The infants, affrighted, cling close to their mothers, The yoinh grasp their swords, for the combat pre- pare, While beauty weeps fathers, and lovers and brothers, Who rush to display the American Star Come blow the shrill bugle, the loud drum awaken, The dread rifle seize, let the cannon deep roar: No heart with pale fear, or faint doubtings be shaken, No slave's hostile foot leave a print on our shore: SINGER S OWN BOOK. 239 Shall mothers, wives, daughters and sisters left wee pin; Insulted by ruffians, be dragged to despair! Oh no! from her hills the proud eagle comes sweeping, And waves to the brave the American Star. The spirits of Washington, Warren, Montgomery, Look down from the elouds, with bright aspect serene ; Come, soldiers, a tear and a toast to their memory, Rejoicing they'll see us as they once have been, To us the high boon by the gods lias been granted, To speed the glad tidings of liberty far; Let millions invade us, we'll meet them undaunted, And vanquish them by the American Star. Your hands, then, dear comrades, round liberty's altar, United we swear by the souls of the brave ! Not one from the strong resolution shall falter, To live independent, or sink to the grave ! Then, freemen, fill up — Lo! the striped banners flvin g. The high bird of liberty screams through the air; Beneath her oppression and tyranny dying — Success to the beaming American Star. .- BEGONE, DULL CARE. Begone, dull care, I pray thee begone from me; Begone, dull care, thou and I shaft never agree; Long time thou hast been tarrying here, And fiua thou wouldst me kill; But, i'faith, dull care. Thou never shall have thy will. Too much care will make a young man look grey; And too much rare will turn an old man to clay, My wife shall dance and I wili sing, So merrily pass the day; For I hold it one of the wi.-est things, To drive dull care away. 240 THE AMERICAN < HARK! THE BONNY CHRIST CHURCH BELLS.— A Catch. Hark ! the bonny Christ Church hells, One, two, three, four, live, six; They sound so woundy great, So wond'rous sweof, And they troll so merrily, merrily. Hark! the first and second bell, That every day at four and ten Cries, come to prayers, And the verger troops before the dean. Tingle, tingle, tings goes the small bell at nine, To call the bearers home; But the devil a man Will leave his can Till he hears the mighty Tom. AULD LANG SYNE. Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And never brought to mmd ? Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And days o' Lang syne ? For auld Lang syne, my dear, For auld lang svne, Well tak' a cup o' kindness yet, For auld lang syne. We twa ha'e run about the braes, And pu'd the gowans hue; But we've wander'd mony a weary foot, Sin' old lang syne. For auld lang syne, my dear, &c. We twa ha'e paidlct i' the burn, Frae morning sun till dine ; But seas between us braid ha'e roar'd Sin' auld lang syne. For auld lang syne, my dear, &c. SINGER S OWN BOOK. 241 And there's a hand, my truslie feire, And gi'es a hand o' thine: And we'll tak' a right gude-willie-waught, For anld lang syne. For auld lang syne, my dear, &c. And surely you'll he your pint-stoup, And surely I'll be mine ; And we'll tak' a drop o' kindness yet, For auld lang syne. For auld lang syne, my dear, &c. TYROLESE SONG OF LIBERTY. Merrily every bosom boundeth, Merrily oh! merrily oh! Where the song of freedom soundeth, Merrily oh! merrily oh! Where the song of freedom soundeth, Merrily oh ! merrily oh ! There the warrior's arms Shed more splendour: There the maiden's charms Shine more tender: Every joy the land surroundoth, Merrily oh ! merrily oh ! Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily oil Merrily oh! merrily oh! Wearily every bosom pincth, Wearily oh! wearily oh! Where the bond of slavery twineth, Wearily oh! wearily oh. There the warrior's dart Hath no fleotness ; There the maiden's heart Hath no sweetness j Ever}- flower of life declineth, Wearily oh ! wearily oh Wearily, wearily, &c Q 242 THE AMERICAN Cheerily then from hill and valley, Cheerily oh! cheerily oh! Like your native fountains sally, Cheerily oh! cheerily oh! Ji a glorious death, Won by bravery, Sweeter he than breath Sighed in slavery ; Round the flag of freedom rally,. Cheerily oh! cheerily oh! Cheerily, cheerily &e YOUR LOT IS FAR ABOVE ME. Your lot is far above me, I dare not be your bride ; To know that you have loved rae, Will wound your father's pride> Go, woo some high-born lady, And he will bless your choice ; Alas ! too long already, I've listen' d to your voice. Oh ! may your grief lie fleeting, Go seek the halls of mirth; Dread not a future meeting, We ne'er shall meet on earth. Though o'er love's passing vision, These tears of anguish Mow ; Doubt not the stern decision Of her who bids you go. These tears are not intended As lures to make you stay, I wish they were not blended With all you hear me say. Go ! would .you ne'er had sought me, 'Tis hard so young to die; But, 'twas your kindness taught me. To raise my hopes so high. SINGER S OWN BOOK. 243 THE FARMERS DAUGHTER. Where are you going, my pretty maid ? I'm going a milking, sir, she said ; May I go with you, my pretty maid ? , kii It's just as you please, kind sir, she said. What is your father, my pretty maid ? My father's a farmer, sir, she said ; Then 1 will marry you, my pretty maid ; It's not as you please, kind sir, she said. What is your fortune, my pretty maid ? My face is my fortune, sir, she said ; Then I can't marry you, my pretty maid Nobody ask d you, sir, she said. WELCOME MOTHER ! Welcome, Mother ! now I greet thee, Can I all my feelings tell I How this heart has long'd to meet thee, Since my lips breath'd out " farewell !' Welcome, Mother! while I press thee Fondly to my youthful heart, Ev'ry word I speak will bless thee, While I know how dear thou art. Welcome, Mother ! I have often Traced thine image in my dreams ; Memory's touch the spell would soften, Dressing life in golden beams. Lone, forsaken — 'midst the smiling, Lousing for some absent one, I have stood — one thought beguiling, 'Twas the thought of thee, alone. Welcome, Mother', life's before me, Days of sunshine and of tears, 244 THE AMERICAN Yet, with thy fond guidance o'er me Joy may smile in afler years. I have cherish'd — dearly cherish'd, All the lessons given me; Every prayer my bosom nourish'd, Has been fraught with love to thee. 'TWAS YOU, SIR.— A Glee. 'Twas you, sir, 'twas you, sir, I tell you nothing new, sir, 'Twas you that kiss'd the pretty girl, 'Twas you, sir, you ; 'Tis true, sir, 'tis true, sir, You look so very blue, sir, I'm sure you kiss'd the pretty girl, 'Tis true, sir, true ; Oh, sir, no, sir, How can you wrong me so, sir ? I did not kiss the pretty girl — But I know who. WEBER'S LAST THOUGHTS. I'm oending o'er a stranger's hearth, alone in my decay, My childhood's home, my father land, is distant far away. I strive to chase the gloomy grief, which darkens oft my mind, When I recall the cloudless hopes which I have left beh nd Oh! painfu !y and wearily, unbidden tears will start, Sad thougl 's like these throw discord o'er the music of n y heart. Some light find lively melody now rushes to my brain, My solitudo enlivening, once cheering me again. But ah! my Uoiae, my absent friends! this damps my moment's mirth, My pulse grows weak, my half form'd smite is wirher'd in its birth. singer's OWN ROOK. 245 I cannot throw from off my soul its preying load oi' griefi Some plaintive strain may ease its weight, and gram a short relief; But transient is my spirit's calm, as slumber on the lake, Whose rest a single falling leaf will agitate and wake. Though Btrangers have been kind to me, and I hnve press'd iheir hand, I pray to live, that I may die in my own native land. Farewell to all whom I have left, I quit you with a Bieb, Farewell, my stream of life ebbs fast, its source is nearly dry. I'm bending o'er a stranger's hearth, alone in my decay, My childhood's home, my father land, is distant far away. KATHLEEN O'MOORE. My lrr\ e. still I think that I see her once more, But alas ! she has left me her loss to deplore, My own little Kathleen, my poor lost Kathleen, My Kathleen O'Moore. Her hair glossy black, her eyes were dark blue, Her colour still changing, her smiles ever new; So pretty was Kathleen, my sweet little Kathleen My Kathleen O'Moore. She milked the dun cow 7 that ne'er offered to stir, Though wicked it was, it was gentle to her; So kind was my Kathleen, my pool little Kathleen, My Kathleen O'Moore. She sat by the door one cold afternoon, To hear the wind blow, and Look at the moon; So pensive was Kathleen, my poor little Kathleen My Kathleen O'Moore. 246 THE AMERICAN O cold was the night breeze that sigh'd round her bower, It chill'd my poor Kathleen, she drooped from that hour, And I lost my poor Kathleen, mv dear little Kathleen, My Kathleen O'Moore. The bird of all birds that I love the best, Is the robin that in the church-yard builds its nest, For he seems to watch Kathleen, hops lightly on Kathleen, My Kathleen O'Moore. THE BRAES OF BALQUHITHER, Let us go, lassie, go To the braes of Balquh'ther, Where the blae-berries grow 'Mong bonnie Highland heather; Where the deer and the rae, Lightly bounding together, S]x>rt the lang summer day On the braes of Balquhither. I will twine thee a bower, By the clear siller fountain, And I'll cover it o'er Wi' the flowers o' the mountain ; I will range through the wilds, And the deep glens sae dreary, And return wi' their spoils To the bower o' my dearie. When the rude wintry win' Idly raves round our dwelling, And the roar of the linn On the night breeze is swelling, So merrily we'll sing As the storm rattles o'er us, Till the dear shealing ring Wi' the light lilting chorus. singer's own BOOK. 247 w the summer is in prime "\\Y the flowers richly blooming, And ihe wild mountain thyme, A' the moorland perfuming.' To onr clear native scenes Let us journey together. Where glad innocence reigns 'Mang the braes of Balquhithei. ORIXK TO IME ONLY WITH THINE EYES Drink to me only with thine eyes, And I will pledge with mine; Or leave a kiss but in the cup, And I'll not look for wine. The thirst that from my soul doth rise Doth ask a drink divine; But mighi I of Jove's nectar sip, I would not change for thine. I sent thee late a rosy wreath, Nat so much honouring thee, As giving it a hope, that there It wouid not withered be. But thou thereon didst only bieathe, And sent it back to me : Since then, it grows, and looks, and smells, JVot of itself, but thee. BILLY, LET'S TIIAXK PROVIDENCE THAT YOU A:\D I ARE SAILORS. One night came on a hurricane, the sea was moun- tains rolling. When Barney Buntline turn'd his quid, and said I Billy Bowling, A strong sow-w< ster's blowing, Bill}*, can't you hear it roar now ? Lord help 'em, how I pities all unhappy folks i shore now . 248 THE AMERICAN Fool-hardy chaps as live in towns, what dangers they are all in ! And now they're quaking in their beds for fear the roof should fall in. Poor creatures, how they envies us, and wishes, I've a notion, For our good luck, in such a storm, to be upon the ocean. Then as to them kept out all day on business from their houses, And, late at night, are walking home to cheer their babes and spouses, While you and I upon the deck are comfortably lying, My eyes, what tiles and chimney-pots about their heads are flying ! And often have we seamen heard how men are killed or undone By overturns in carriages, and thieves, and fires, in London ; We've heard what risks all landsmen run, from no blemen to tailors, 60, Billy, let's thank Providence that you and I are sailors. THE LASS O' COWRIE. 'Twas on a simmer's afternoon, A wee before the sun gaed down, My lassie wi' a braw new gown Carne o'er the hill to Gowrie. The rose-bud tingM wi' morning show T ers Bloom'd fresh within the sunny bowers, But Kitty was the fairest flower That ever bloom'd in- Gowrie. I had nae thought to do her wrang, But round her waist my arms I flang, And said, 4 My lassie, will ye gang To view the Carse o' Gowrie ? singer's own book. 219 I'll lake ye to my father's ha', In yon green field beside the shaw, And make you lady o' them a', The brawest wile in Cowrie. Saft kisses on her lips I laid, The blush upon her cheek soon spread, She whisper'd modestly, and said, 'I'll gang wi' you to Gowrie.' The an Id iolk soon gied their consent, And to Mess John we quickly went, Whs tied us to our hearts' content, And now she's Lady Gowiie. DINNA FORGET. Dinna forget, laddie! dinna forget! Ne'er make me rue that we ever have met! Wide though we sever, parted for ever, Willie, when far aw a dinna forget! We part, and it may be, we meet never mair; Vet my heart, as in hope, will be true in despair; And the sigh of remembrance, the tear of regret, For thee will be frequent, then dinna forget! When the star o' the gloamin' is beaming above, Think how oft it hath lighted the tryst of our love. Oh ! deem it an angel's ee heaven hath set, To watch thee, to warn thee, sae dinna forget ! THE FLOWING BOWL. Bring me, boy, a flowing bowl, Deep and spacious as the sea ; Then shall every noble soul, Drink and fathom it with me. While we revel in delight, E'er to part would be a sin, And since care is put to flight, Drink and fill the bowl again. ZoO THE AMERICAN Let the hoary miser toil, We such sordid views despise ; Give us wine and beauty's smile — There each glowing rapture lies. While we revel, &c Care ! thou bane of every joy, To some distant region fly ; Here reigns Bacchus, jolly boy; — Hence! old greybeard — hence! and die While good humour is afloat, Here to part would be a sin ; Let us sail in pleasure's boat — Drink and fill the bowl again. DAME DURDEN.— A Glee, Dame Durden kept five serving giris f To carry the milking-pail; She also kept five labouring men, To wield the spade and flail: 'Twas Moll and Bet, And Doll and Kate, And Dorothy Draggle tail; And John and Dick, And Joe and Jack, And Humphry with his flail; 'Twas John kissed Molly, And Dick kissed Betty, And Joe kissed Dolly, And Jack kissed Kitty, And Humphrey with his flail ; And Kitty she was a charming girl to carry liip, milk- ing-pail. Dame Durden in the mom so soon She did begin to call, To roase her servant maids and men She then began to bawl. Twas Moll and Bet, &c. singer's own book. 2T)1 'Twas on the morn of Valentine, The birds began to prate. Dame Durden's servant-maids and men They all began to mate. 'Tv as Moll and Bet, &c. WHERE'S THE SNOW. Written by Miss L. E. Landon, and Sung by Madame Malibran. Where's the snow, the summer snow On the lovely lily flower? Where the hues the sun-set shed O'er the rose's crimson hour? Where's the gold, the pure bright gold, O'er the young laburnum flung? And the fragrant sighs that breath'd Whence the hyacinth drooping hung? Gone, gone, they all are gone. Youth where is thine open brow ? What has quell'd thine eagle eye? Where's the freshness of thy cheek ? And thy dark hair's raven dye ? Where's the crimson banner now? Where's thine eager step and sword ? Where's thine hour of dreamless sleep? Where frank jest and careless word? Gone, gone, they all are gone. Where's the lighted hall, and where A 4 that made its midnight gay ? Where's the music of Ihe harp? And the minstrel's knightly lay? Where's the graceful saraband ? Where's the lamp of starry light? Where the vases of bright flowers? Where the blushes vet more bright? Gone, gone, they all are gone. 252 THE AMERICAN WERT THOU LIKE ME— ANNOT LYLE'S SONG. Words by Sir W. Scott. — Music by Miss JE.JFloicer. Wert thou like me, in life's low vale, With thee how blest that lot I'd share, With thee I'd fly wherever gale Could waft, or bounding billows bear. But, parted by severe decree, Far different must our fortunes prove ; May thine be joy ! — enough for me To weep and pray for him I love. The pangs this foolish heart must feel, When hope shall be for ever flown, No sullen murmur shall reveal, No selfish murmurs e'er shall own. Nor will I through life's weary years, Like a pale drooping mourner move, While I can think my foolish tears May w T ound the heart of him I love. FAIR ROSE HAS CHARMS ALONE FOR ME. They say my heart is not sincere, And fickle as the moon, my mind ; Perhaps to some I may appear Inconstant as the sportive wind : But oh! when Rosa deigns to smile, No other eye has charms for me. My wav'ring thoughts her looks beguile, *To rove, I feel no longer free ! No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no ; Fair Rose alone has charms for me I do not sigh in shady groves, I ramble not by purling streams ; But love to be where beauty moves, And where thj3 star of pleasure gleams. But oh! when Rosa deigns, &c. singer's own book. 253 AULD ROBIN GRAY. Written by Lady Anne Barnard. When the sheep are in the fauid, and the kye at home, And a' the warkl to sleep are gane; The waes of my heart fa' in showers frae my e'e, While my gudeman lies sound by me. Young Jamie lo'ed me weel, and he sought me for hi But saving a crown, he had naething beside. To mak' the crown a pound, my Jamie gaed to sea; And the crown and the pound were baith for me. He hadna' been gane a week but only twa, When my father brake his arm, and our cow was ■town awa', My mither she fell sick, and my Jamie at the sea, And auld Robin Gray came a courting me. My father couldua' work, and my mither doughtna' in ; I toii'd day and night, but their bread I eouldna' win; Auld Rob maintain'd them baith, and wi' tears in his e'e, Saidj 'Jenny, for their sakes, O marry me !' My heart it said Nay — T look'd for Jamie back ; But the wind it blew high, and the ship it was a wrack, The ship it was a wrack; why didna' Jenny die I Oh! why was I spared to cry, Wae's me! My father urged sair — my mither didna' speak, She look'd in my fare till my heart was like to break. So they gi'ed him my hand, though my heart was at the sea, Now auld Robin Gray is gudeman to me. I hadna' been a wife a week but only four, When sitting sae mournfully ae night at the door. '254 THE AMERICAN — ■ ■ ■■-■■■■■ i ■ ■— — — ■ - ■■ - p ^ I saw my Jamie's wraith — for I couidna' think it he, Till he said, 'I'm come back, love, to marry thee.' sair did we greet, and muekle did we say. We took but ae kiss, and we tore ourselves away, 1 wish'd I were dead — but I'm no like to die ; Oh! why do I live to say, Wae's me! I gang like a ghaist, and I carena' to spin, I darena' think on Jamie, for that would be a sin; But I'll do my best a gude wife to be, For auld Robin Gray is kind to me. ' Nae langer she wept — her tears were a' spent — Despair it was come, and she thought it content, She thought it content; but her cheek it grew pale, And she droop'd like a lily broke down by the hail. ON THIS COLD FLINTY ROCK. Music by Brctham. On this cold flinty rock I will lay down my head, And cheerfully sing thro' the night ; The moon shall smile sweetly upon my cold bed, And the stars shall shine forth to give light. Then come to me, come to me ; wail not nor weep : O turn thy sweet eyes unto me; To my bosom now creep, I will sing thee to sleep, And kiss from thy lids the salt tear. This innocent flower which these rude cliffs unfold, Is thou, love, the joy of this earth : But the rock that it springs from, so flinty and cold, Is thy father that gave thee thy birth. Then come to me, &c. The dews that now hang on the cheek of the eve, And the winds that so mournfully cry, Are the sighs and the tears of the youth ihou mus\ leave, To lie down in those deserts to die. Then come to me, &c GFER'8 OWN BOOK. 2-V> FAREWELL TO MY HARP. Air: — Neta Jjangolee Dear harp of my country! in darkness I found thee, The cold chain of silence had hung o'er thee long, When proudly my own Island Harp 1 unbound thee, And gave all thy chords to light, freedom and .song; The warm lay of love, and the light rote of gladness, Have waken'd thy fondest, thy liveliest thrill; But so oft hast thou echoed the deep sigh of sadness! That even in thy mirth it will steal from thee still. Dear Harp of my country I farewell to thy numbers, This sweet wreath ol song is the last we shall twine, Go, — sleep with the sunshine of fame on thy slumbers. Till touch'd by some hand, less unworthy than mine. If the pulse of the patriot, soldier, or lover, Have throbb'd at our lay, 'tis thy glory alone ; I was but as the wind passing heedlessly over, And all the wild sweetness. I wak'd was thy own ! MY DARK HAIR'D GIRL. M/ dark hair'd girl, thy ringlets deck In silken curl thy graceful neck; Thy neck is like the swan, and fair as the pearl, And light as air the step is, of my dark hair'd girl. My dark hair'd girl, upon thy lip The dainty boo might wish to sip; For thy lip is like the rose, and thy teeth they are pearl, And diamond is the eye of my dark hair'd girl. My dark hair'd girl, I've promis'd thee, And thou thy faith hast given to me ; And, oh! l would not change for the crown of an earl, The pride cf being lov'd by my dark hair'd girh Zo6 THE AMERICAN TWILIGHT'S HOUR. Tt was at twilight's dusky hour, When twinkling stars their lustre shed, The warbling tenants of each bow'r, Unto iheir mossy ceils had fled. The lowing herds had ceas'd their note, The bleating flocks were in their pen ; No sounds were in the air afloat, No hum arose within the glen. The orient tints which streak'd the sky, Had vanish'd with departing light; The azure vault serene and high, Bedeck'd with gems, shone softly bright The air was calm, all still profound, Refreshing zephyrs cool'd the plain, And echo, with responsive sound, Sent back whate'er it heard, again. Twas just at this propitious hour, That fairy steps flit o'er the green, Bespangled with each native flower ; No pressure mark'd where they had been 'Twas now that Oberon the sprite, His revels held with sportive sway, Kept up the dance, till dawn of light Intrusive, warn'd the elves away. THEY TOLD ME NOT TO LOVE HIM. They told me not to love him! They said that he would prove Unworthy of so ricli a gem, As woman's peerless love. But I believ'd them not, Oh ! no, I knew it could not be, singer's own book. 257 That one so false as they thought him, Could be as dear to me. They told me not to love him ! They said he was not true, And bade me have a care, Jest 1 JShouKi do what I might rue : At first I scorn'd their warnings — for I could not think that he Coneeal'd beneath so fair a brow, A heart of perfidy. They told me to discard him ! They said he meant me ill — They darkly spoke of fiends that lure* And smile, and kiss, and — kill ! I all unheeding heard them, for I knew it could not be, That one so false as they thought him Could be so dear to me. But they forc'd me to discard him! Yet 1 could not cease to love — For our mutual vows recorded were By angel hands above. He left his boyhood's home, and sought Forgetfulness afar; But memory stung him, — and he fough And fell, in glorious war. He dwelte in Heaven now, — while I Am doom'd to this dull earth: Oh ! how my sad soul longs to break Away, and wander ibrth : From star to star its couree would be- Unresting it would go, Till we united were above, Who severed were below R 258 THE AMERICAN I LOVE THE VILLAGE CHURCH. I love the village church, With its ivy mantled tower ; And rustic forms around the porch, At the Sabbath's holy hour. The music of the bell, O'er the pleasant valley stealing ; And the simple prayer that breathes so well The pure heart's fervent feeling. I love the village green, Where, after hours of labour, At eve the young and old are seen, With merry pipe and tabor. The banquet is not spread, As it is in courtly palaces ; But nature, o'er the spot, has shed Her own peculiar graces. SONG OF THE SKATERS. This bleak and chilly morning, With frost the trees adorning, Though Phoebus below Were all in a glow, Through the sparkling snow A skating we go, With a fal, la!, la, To the sound of the merry horn. From right to left we're plying, Swifter than wind we're flying, Spheres on spheres surrounding, Health and strength abounding, In circles we swing : Our poise still we keep, Behold how we sweep The face of the deep, With a fal, lal, la, To the sound of the merry "hern. singer's own book. 259 Great Jove looks down with wonder, To view his sons of thunder : Though the waters he seal, We rove on our heel, Our weapons are steel, And no danger we feel, With a fal, lal, la, To the sound of the merry horn See, see, our band advances, See how they join in dances, Horns and trumpets sounding, Rocks and hills rebounding, Let Tritons now blow, And call us their foe, For Neptune below His beard dare not show. With a fal, lal, la, To the sound of the merry horn. THE LIGHT HOUSE. The scene was more beautiful far to my eye, Than if day in its pride hod arrayed it, The land breeze blew mild, and the azure arch'd sky Looked pure as the spirit that made it: The murmur rose soft as I silently gazed In the shadowy waves' playful motion, From the dim distant hill, 'till the light-house fire blazed Like a star in the midst of the ocean. No longer the joy of the sailor boy's breast Was heard in his wildly breathed numbers, The sea-bird had flown to her wave girdled nest, The fisherman sunk to his slumbers : One moment I looked from the hill's gentle slope, All hushed was the billow's' commotion, And thought that the light-house locked lovely a* hope, That star of life's tremulous ocean. 260 THE AMERICAN The time is long past, and the scene is afar, Yet when my head rests on its pillow, Will memory sometimes rekindle the star That blazed on the breast of the billow: In life's closing hour, when the trembling soul flies, And death stills the heart's last emotion ; O then may the seraph of mercy arise, Like a star on eternity's ocean. HERE'S A HEALTH TO ALL GOOD LASSES A Glee. Here's a health to all good lasses, Pledge it merrily, fill yeur glasses, Let the bumper toast go round ; May they live a life of pleasure, Without mixture, without measure, For in that true joys are found. MONEY IS YOUR FRIEND. Of friendship I've heard much talk, But you'll find in the end, That if distressed at any time, Then money is your friend. Yes, money is your friend — is it not? Yes, money is your friend — is it not ? Is it not ? — is it not ? — pray tell me now, Yes, money! money! is your friend. If you are sick and like to die, And for the doctor send ,* To him you must advance a fee, Then money is your friend. Yes, money, &c. If you should have a suit at law, On which you must depend ; You must pay the lawyer's brief, Then money is your friend. Yes money, &c. singer's own book. 261 Then let me have but store of gold, From ills it will defend ; In every exigence of life, Dear money is your friend. Yes, money, &c. THE WINE CELLAR. Air, — TJie woodpecker I knew by the smell which so gratefully rose, And cheered up my heart, a wine cellar was near-, And I said if a man wished a jolly carouse, The soul thai; is thirsty might look for it here: Every leaf was at rest, and I heard not a sound, But the old butler tapping the sherry for me. And here in this round bellied cask, I exclaimed, Is a mistress so lovely to soul and to eye. That with her no mortal could fairly be blamed, Who might happily live and most jollily die. Every leaf was at rest, &c. 'Neath the shade of yon arch, where the dam] slowly drips, And the cobwebs and sawdust so sweetly enrw T ine, Flows a stream, which I know, as I pour through my lips, Has never been tasted by any but mine. Every leaf was at rest, &c. SAY, MY HEART, WHENCE COMES THINE ANGUISH? Say, my heart, whence comes thine anguish ? And what means that bitter sigh? Here are lovely scenes around thee, Tho' beneath a foreign sky Oh ! I know whence comes my anguish, Whence my sighs and sadness come: There are lovely scenes around me, But not one that looks like home. 262 THE AMERICAN No ! — abroad none love so truly, None so warmly press the hand, Not e'en childhood laughs so sweetly, As at home, in Switzerland. Oh ! my heart ! cease, cease thy mourning, If 'tis still thy fate to roam ; Wait in hope, till, heav'n ordaining, We may smile once more at home. Oh ! ye hills, and woods, and valleys, Where my hopes and joys remain : Oh ! my father and my mother, Could I see ye once again ! See the cottages around me, With their gaily chequered wall : Hear my neighbours kindly greeting, And my love's, the best of all ! I will up, away, and hasten To my home of youthful glee ; I can know no joy nor pleasure Till my native land I see 'TIS BUT FANCY'S SKETCH. Here mark a poor desolate maid, By a parent's ambition betray'd, Behold on her fast fading cheek, The tears that her agony speak ; And here kneels the well-beloved youth Calling heaven to witness his truth; And here stands the murderous wretch. But mark me, But mark me, 'Tis but fancy's sketch, Ah! 'tis but fancy's sketch. Behold in his face are express'd, The passions that rage in his breast ; Here read, while he dares to demand from her parents this maiden's fair hand, singer's own book. 263 While deep in his dungeon secured A still living wife is immured ; Who curses the murderous wretch. But start not! But start not 'Tis but fancy's sketch, Ah! 'tis but fancy's sketch. COLUMBIA. Columbia! Columbia! to glory arise, The queen of the world, and the child of the skies; Thy genius commands thee : with raptures behold, While ages on ages thy splendours unfold ; Thy reign is the last, and the noblest of time, Most fruitful thy soil, most inviting thy clime ; Let the crimes of the east ne'er encrimson thy name. Be freedom, and science, and virtue thy fame. To conquest and slaughter let Europe aspire, 'Whelm nations in blood, and wrap cities in fire, Thy heroes the rights of mankind shall defend, And triumph pursue them, and glory attend ; A world is thv realm, for a world be thy laws, Enlarged as thine empire, and just as thy cause , On freedom's broad basis that empire shall rise, Extend with the main, and dissolve with the sides. Fair science her gates to thy sons shall unbar, And the east see thy morn hide the beams of her star; New bards and new sages unrivalled shall soar. To fame unextinguished, when time is no more : To thee, the last refuge of virtue designed, Shall fly, from all nations, the best of mankind, Here, grateful to heaven, with transports shall bring Their incense, more fragrant than odours of spring Nor less shall thy fair ones to glory ascend, And genius and beauty in harmony blend ; Their graces of form shall awake pure desire, And the charms of the soul still enliven the fire* 264 THE AMERICAN Their sweetness unmingled, their manners refined, And virtue's bright image enstamped on the mind, With peace and soft rapture shall teach life to glow, And light up a smile in the aspect of woe. Thy fleets to all regions thy power shall display, The nations admire, and the ocean obey; Each shore to thy glory its tribute unfold, And the east and the south yield their spices and gold ; As the day-spring unbounded thy splendours shall flow, And earth's little kingdom before thee shall bow; While the ensigns of union in triumph unfurled, Hush the tumults of war, and give peace to the world. Thus as down a lone valley, with cedars o'erspread. From the noise of the city I pensively strayed, The gloom from the face of fair heaven retired, The winds ceased to murmur, the thunders expired ; Perfumes, as of Eden, flowed sweetly along, And a voice, sure of angels, enchantingly sung, • Columbia ! Columbia ! to glory arise, The queen of the world, and the child of the skies/ POOR JACK. By Mr Dibdln. Go patter to lubbers and swabs, do ye see, 'Bout danger and fear and the like, A tight-water boat and good sea-room give me And 'tan't to a little I'll strike. l*hough the tempest top-gallant masts, smack smooth should smite, And shiver each splinter of wood, Clear the w r reck, stow the yards, and house every thing tight, And under reefed foresail we'll scud. Avast! nor don't think me a milk-sop so soft, To be taken for trifles a-back, For they say there's a Providence sits up aloft, To keep watch for the life of poor Jack. singer's own book. 265 Why I hoard the good chaplain palaver one day, About souls, heaven, mercy and such, And, my timbers! what lingo he'd coil and belay, Why 'tuns just all as one as high Dutch ; But he said how a sparrow can't founder d'ye see, Without orders that comes down below, And many fine things that proved clearly to me, That Providence lakes us in tow i For says he, do you mind me, let storms e'er so oft, Take the top-lifts of Sailors a-back, There's a sweet little cherub sits perched up aloft, To keep watch for the life of poor Jack. ] said to our Poll, for you see she would cry, When last we weighed anchor fcr sea, What arguefles sniv'ling and piping jour eye, Why what a damn'd tool you must be ; Can't you see the world's wide, and there's room io us all, Both for seamen and lubbers ashore, And if to old Davy I go, my dear Poll, Why you never will hear of rne more ; What then, all's a hazard, come, don't be so soft, Perhaps I may laughing come back; For d'ye see, there's a cherub sits smiling aloft, To keep watch for the life of poor Jack. D'ye mind me, a sailer should be every inch, All as one as a piece of the ship: And with her brave the world without offering to flinch, From the moment the anchor's a-trip: As to me, in all weathers, all times, sides, and ends, Nought's a trouble from duty that springs, My heart is my Poll's, and my rhino my friend's, And as for my life, 'tis the king's : Even when my time comes, ne'er believe me so soft, As with grief to be taken a-back, The same little cherub that sits up alofi, Will look out a good birth for poor Jack- 266 THE AMERICAN EVENING HYMN OF THE VINTAGERS. Music by Mr Nelson. 'Tis evening, and the sun's last gleam Beneath the wave will soon be gone ; But ere it leaves the mountain stream, Our vintage labour will be done. Hark! hark, the pealing vesper bell From toil unto devotion calls ; Of hope and joy it seems to tell, As sweetly on the ear it falls. Gloria tibi, domine. 'Tis sweet to rest from toil awhile ; And when the shades of night are come, To meet the cheering welcome-smile, That waits us at our peaceful home. Hark ! hark, the pealing, &c. I'LL SAY YES, WHEN I'M ASKED. A maiden there was who was silly and shy, And she looked like a fool when her lover was nigh, Yet she knew 7 not why. He asked her one day, if to church she would go, She blush'd more than ever and courtesied low — And she answered ' No;' But it was with a sigh, ^ And she knew not why! The youth, in his turn, now grew shy of the maid; He courted another, who was not afraid, And who ' Yes,' soon said. She saw them go by — she repented at last — Oh, ho, the next time,' (she exclaimed, as they passed) I'll say yes, when I'm asked ;' And she spoke with a sigh, And she well knew why! singer's own book. 267 ~+* ■ ■ ' ■ ■■■!■■■ - - - -- ~ I - ■ ■■ I THE PILGRIM OF LOVE. Sung by Mr Sinclair. Orynthia, my beloved, I call in vain! Orynthia, echo hears and calls again ! A mimic voice repeats the name around, And with Orynthia all the rocks resound. A hermit who dwells in these solitudes cross'd me, As wayworn and faint up the mountain I press'd ; The aged man paused on his staff to accost me, And proffer'd his cell, as my mansion of rest. Ah! nay, courteous father, right onward I rove, No rest but the grave for the pilgrim of love. Yet tarry, my son, till the burning noon passes, Let boughs of the lemon tree shelter thy head , The juice of ripe muscadel flows in my glasses, And rushes, fresh pull'd, for siesta, are spread. Ah! nay, courteous father, right onward I rove, No rest but the grave for the pilgrim of love. ONE LITTLE WORD BEFORE WE PART One little word before we part, Oh, why wish to leave me so soon ? With him who owns thy faithful heart, Come wander beneath the bright moon. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, not now, the maiden cried, 'Twere soon enough when I'm a bride ; Hark, hark ! I hear the vesper bell, Good night, adieu ! good night, farewell ! One single kiss deny me not, Oh what from true love can you fear? From him, who'd share with thee his lot; Deny me not, no one is near. No, no, no, &c. 268 THE AMERICAN FAR, FAR AT SEA. 'Twas at night, when the bell had toll'd twelve. And poor Susan was laid on her pillow, In her ear whisper'd some flitting elve, 1 Your love is now tors'd on a billow, Far, far at sea.' All was dark as she woke out of breath, .Not an object her fears could discover, All was stili as the silence of death, Save fancy, which painted her lover Far, far at sea. So she whisper'd a prayer, clos'd her eyes, But the phantom still haunted her pillow, Whilst in terror she echoed his cries, As struggling, he sunk in a billow, Far, far at sea. THE BUCKET. By Samuel Woodworth, Esq. How dear to this heart are the scenes of my child- hood, When fond recollection recalls them to view — The orchard, the meadow, the deep-tangled wild- wood, And every loved spot which my infancy knew; The wide-spreading pond, and the mill which stood by it, The bridge, and the rock where the cataract fell, The cot of my father, the dairy-house nigh it, The old oaken bucket — the iron-bound bucket — The moss-covered bucket, which hung in the well. That moss-covered vessel I hail as a treasure, For o^'ten, at noon, when return'd from the field, f found it the source of an exquisite pleasure, The purest and sweetest that nature can yield ; singer's own book. 269 How ardent I seized it, with hands that were glowing And quick to the white-pebbled bottom it fell. Then soon, with the embiera of truth overflowing, And dripping with coolness, it rose from the well — The old oaken bucket — the iron-bound bucket — The moss-covered bucket arose from the well. How sweet from the green mossy brim to receive it As poised on the cord, it inclined to my lips; Not a full-blushing goblet could tempt me to leave it Though filled with the nectar that Jupiter sips. And now far removed from the loved situation, The tear of regret will intrusively swell, As fancy revisits my father's plantation, And sighs for the bucket which hangs in his w ell— The old oaken bucket — the iron-bound bucket — The moss-covered bucket, which hangs in his welL THE LOVER'S MISTAKE. Sung by Madame Vesiris. A fond youth serenaded his love Who was sleeping love never should sleep, Her father w as peeping above Oh! fathers, you never should peep. To his daughter's balcony he brought Her monkey in muslins arrayed ; The youth was o'erjoved, for he thought 'Tvvas the form of his beautiful maid, his maid, 'Twas the form of his beautiful maid. He gazed on the figure in white, Whose nods gave new life to his hopes ; His heart throbbed with love and delight, As he threw up the ladder of ropes ; His charmer hopped down it, and then The happy delusion was o'er! Girls often meet monkey-like men, But man ne'er woo'd monkey before, before, But man ne'er woo'd monkey before. 270 THE AMERICAN From the window enjoying the joke, Her father feared danger no more ; And she by the bustle awoke, Soon made her escape at the door. • Come, come to your Rosa/ she said, 1 Unless you prefer my baboon, And pray let your next serenade Take place at the full of the moon, the moon, Take place at the full of the moon.' OUR COUNTRY IS OUR SHIP, D'YE SEE Our country is our ship, d'ye see, A gallant vessel, too ; And of his fortune proud is he, Who's one of our bold crew. Each man, whate'er his station be, When duty's call commands, Should take his stand, And lend a hand, As the common cause demands. And when our haughty enemies Our noble ship assail, Then all true hearted lads despise What peril may prevail ; But shrinking from the cause we prize, If lubbers skulk below, To the sharks Have such sparks, They assist the common foe. Among ourselves, in peace, 'tis true, We quarrel — make a rout; And, having nothing else to do, We fairly fight it out ; But once the enemy in view, Shake hands — we soon are friends ; On the deck, Till a wreck, Each the common cause defends. singer's own book. 271 I WONT BE A NUN. Now is it not a pity such a pretty girl as I, Should be sent to a nunnery to pine away and die ; But I wont be a nun — no, I wont be a nun — I'm so fond of pleasure that I cannot be a nun. I'm sure I cannot tell what's the mischief I have done. But my mother often tells me that I must be a nun. But I wont be a nun, &c. I could not bear confinement, it would not do forme, For I like to go a shopping, and to see what I can see. So I wont be a nun, &e. I love to hear men flattering, love fashionable clothes, I love music and dancing, and chatting with the beaux. So I can't be a nun, &c. So mother, don't be angry now, but let your daughter be, For the nuns would not like to have a novice wild as me. And I can't be a nun — no, I wont be a nun — I'm so fond of pleasure that I cannot be a nun. THE EVENING SONG OF THE TYROLESE PEASANTS. By Mrs Hemans. Come to the sun-set tree ! The day is past and gone ; The woodman's axe lies free, The reaper's work is done. The twilight star to heaven, And the summer dew to flowers, And rest to us is given In the cool refreshing bowers. Come to the sunset tree, &c 272 THE AMERICAN Sweet is the hour of rest, Pleasant the wind's low sigh ; The gleaming of the west, And the turf whereon we lie. When the burden of the heat Of labour's task is o'er, And kindly voices greet, The tired one at his door. Come to the sun-set tree, &c Yes, tuneful is the sound That dwells in whispering boughs ; Welcome the freshness round. And the gale that fans our brows. Then, though the wind an altered tone Through the young foliage bear, Though every flower of something gone, A tinge may wear ; Come to the sun-set tree, &c. SHOULD HE UPBRAID. Should he upbraid, I'll own that he prevail, And sing as sweetly as the nightingale ; Say that he frown, I'll say his looks I view, As morning roses newly tipt with dew. As morning roses, &c. Say he be mute, I'll answer with a smile, And dance and play, and wrinkled care beguile. Should he upbraid, &c. THE ANCHOR'S WEIGHED. The tear fell gently from her eye, When last we parted on the shore ; My bosom beat with many a sigh, To think I ne'er might see her more : 4 Dear youth,' she cried, « and canst thou haste away. My heart will break, a little moment stay; Alas! I cannot part from thee;' The anchor's weighed — farewell, remember me V \ singer's own book. 273 ' Weep not, my love,' ] trembling said, 'Doubt not a constant heart like mine, I ne'er can meet another maid, Whose charms can lix a heart like mine :' 'Go then,' she cried, ' but let thy constant mind Oft think on her you leave in tears behind!' Dear maid, this last embrace mv pledge shall be. The anchor's weighed — farewell, remember me V ANSWER TO ' RISE, GENTLE MOON/ By Mrs Cornwell Baron Wilson. The moon is up! her silvery beam Shines bower and grove and mountain over : A flood of radiance, heaven doth seem, To light thee, maiden, to thy lover. If o'er her orb a cloud should rest, 'Tis but thy cheek's soft blush to cover He waits to clasp thee to his breast; The moon is up! go meet thy lover. The moon is up! round beauty's shrine Love's pilgrims bend at vesper l>our, Earth breathes of heaven and looks divine, And lover's hearts confess her power. If o'er her orb, &c. RISE, WARRIOR, RISE. Sung by Miss Stephens. Rise, warrior, rise, the morn has shed Its golden glories round thy bed ; The twilight shades now fleet away, And mists are brightening into day. Rise, warrior, rise. Hark! hark, 'tis the lark, her wings o'er thee sweep, Her song as she soars seems reproving thy sleep, Thy steed doth wnpatient expecting thee stand, And thy blade lies unsl*eath'd for thy conquering hand. S 274 THE AMERICAN Rise, warrior, rise, though dreams are sweet, When absent forms in slumber meet, Though hope should weave such dreams for thee And lovely visions round thee flee. Rise, warrior, rise. Rise, warrior, rise, 'tis glory now Prepares the garland for thy brow, Rise from thy tempting couch of down, And win and wear the warrior's crown. Rise, warrior, rise. THE MAID OF LODL I sing the maid of Lodi, Sweet soother of my toil ; Peace dwells within her bosom, And pleasure lights her smile. Her eyes, of mildest lustre, A placid mind disclose ; Her cheeks in beauty rival The blushes of the rose. When o'er the fading landscape The shades of twilight steal, When sea and land are blended Beneath the dusky veil, I meet the maid of Lodi, On yonder vine-cloth T d hill, Or whisper tales of rapture, Beside yon sparkling rill. Around her humble dwelling No servile crowds appear; She but receives the homage That springs from hearts sincere Then sing the maid of Lodi, Whom native charms adorn, Bright as the glowing radiance, That gilds the dawn of mom. SINGER S OWN BOOK. 275 THE WINDS WHISTLE COLD.— A Glee. The winds whistle cold, And the stars glimmer red, The flocks are in fold, And the cattle in shed. When the hoar frost was chill Upon moorland and hill, And was fringing the forest bough, Our fathers would trowl The bonny brown bowl, And so will we do now, Jolly hearts ! And so will we do now. Gaffer winter may seize Upon milk in the pail ; 'Twill be long ere he freeze The bold brandy and ale ; For our fathers so bold, They laugh'd at the cold, When Boreas was bending his brow ; For they quaff d mighty ale, And they told a blythe tale, Ana so will we do now, Jolly hearts ! And so will we do now. 1 I'D BE A BUTTERFLY. Sung by Miss Kelly. I'd be a butterfly, born in a bower, Where roses, and lilies, and violets meet : Roving for ever from flower to flower, And kissing all buds that are pretty and swest. I'd never languish for wealth or for power, I'd never sigh to see slaves at my feet; I'd be a butterfly, born in a bower, Kissing all buds that are pretty and sweet, I'd be a butterfly, I'd be a butterfly, Kissing all buds that are pretty and sweet. 276 THE AMERICAN Oh, could T pilfer the wand of a fairy, I'd have a pair of those beautiful wings; Their summer day's ramble is sportive and airy, They sleep in a rose when the nightingale sings. Those who have wealth, must be watchful and wary, Power, alas! nought but misery brings ; I'd be a butterfly, sportive and airy, Rock'd in a rose when the nightingale sings, I'd be a butterfly, I'd be a butterfly, Rock'd in a rose when the nightingale sings. What, though you tell me each gay little rover Shrinks from the breath of the first autumn day; Surely 'tis better, when summer is over, To die, when all fair things are fading away; Some in life's winter may toil to discover, Means of procuring a weary delay. I'd be a butterfly, living a rover, Dying when fair things are fading away, I'd be a butterfly, I'd be a butterfly, Hying w 7 hen fair things are fading away. THE NEVA BOATMEN'S SONG. By Mr Horn. Daylight fades, Ev'ning shades O'er the silent waters creep ; Winds arise, And with sighs, Wake the stream from slumbers deep: Swift o'er the Neva tides, Mark, how our vessel glides, O'er the curled waves she rides, Scattering pearl-drops from her sides. Brothers, row, Whilst the glow Of twilight sheds a parting beam, 'Till our lay Fades away, And dies upon the Nova stream. singer's own book. 277 Eve has pass'd, Ami shades at last, Round the darkening waters close, Yet one star Shines aliir, Gilding ev : ry wave that flows. Soon shall the hand of night, Hang up her crescent light ; Mild, yet with splendour bright, Chasing ev'ry gloom from sight- Brothers, row, &c. AS SUNLIGHT FALLS. Suing by Miss Hughes. As sunlight falls on crystal streams Thai iirst reflect the dav, On youthful hearts so kindly gleams Love's fresh inspiring ray. An envious cloud the sky deforms, And crystal streams flow dark ; So fares the heart when way-ward storms Extinguish love's pure spark. Yet oh! relent, ye adverse powers, Life's vanish d joys restore, Those rosy-colour'd laughing hours, That bloom to fade no more. JOCKEY TO THE FAIR. 'Twas on the morn of sweet May day, When nature painted all things gay, Taught birds to sing and lambs to play, And gild the meadows rare; Young Jockey, early in the dawn, Arose and trip! it o'er the lawn ; His Sunday coat the youth put on, For Jennv had vowd away to run With Jockey to the fair. For Jenny had, &c. 273 THE AMERICAN The cheerful parish bells had rung, With eager steps he trudg'd along, With flow'ry garlands round him hung, Which shepherds used to wear: He tapp'd the window — 'Haste, my dear'- Jenny, impatient, cried ' Who's there V 1 'Tis I, my love, and no one near, Step gently down, you've nought to fear, With Jockev to the fair.' I My dad and mamma's fast asleep, My brother's up and with the sheep, And will you still your promise keep Which I have heard you swear? And will you ever constant prove?' I I will by all the powers of love, And ne'er deceive my charming dove: Dispel these doubts, and haste, my love, With Jockey to the lair.' 4 Behold the ring !' the shepherd cried, 1 Will Jenny be my charming bride ? Let Cupid be our happy guide, And Hymen meet us there.' Then Jockey did his vows renew, He would be constant, would be true : His word was pledged — away she flew, O'er cowslip tipt with balmy dew T , With Jockey to the fair. In rapturea meet the jovial throng, Their gay companions blithe and young: Each joins the dance, each joins the song, And hails the happy day: Return'd, there's none so fond as they, They bless'd the kind propitious day, The smiling morn of blooming May, When lovely Jenny ran away With Jockey to the fair. singer's own book. 279 HURRAH FOR THE EMERALD ISLE. Sung by Miss Rock. There's a health to the friends that are far, There's a health to our friends that are near, Here's to those who rank first in the war, Oh the brave hearts that never knew fear! Here's to him who for freedom first draws, And here's to the heart free from guile, The patriot friend to his home and his laws. Who stands by his own native isle. Then Hurrah for the Emerald Isle! And here's to the bosonrfs bright glow, When the banner of liberty waves ; And here's may she conquer her foe, Ere the sons of her slorv be slaves! Then here's to the fri-ends all around, The emblem of Erin's rich soul, And oh! may they ever, when wanted, be found To stand by their own native isle. Then Hurrah for the Emerald Isle ! THE VESPER HYMN Russian Air. Hark, the vesper hymn is stealing O'er the waters, soft and clear Nearer yet, and nearer pealing, Now it bursts upon the ear: Jubilate, Amen. Farther now, now farther stealing, Soft it fades upon the ear. >>ilinu; loam; And a Head, of a Btrange and fearful ibrm, Dragg'd me down to his demon home. Then 1 thought my love, with a shining band Bore me off through i lie air lo some lairy land — Whai pity, what pity, to see such dreams Pass away in the light ot' the morning beams, MY COTTAGE AND VINE Here, far away from wealth and pow'r As far from want remov'd, My home I've made the simple bovv'r, That first in youth I lov'd ; Where snow-clad mountains proudly rise And blooming roses twine, Where gentle waters flow around My cottage and my vine. Dear home of innocence and peace, The vale of early vears, In thee I'll bid my sorrows cease, And dry my (lowing tears; For ev'ry joy the heart can prove, Or wish, will here be mine; With friends long lov'd I'll giadiy share, my cottage and my vine. I KNOW T WHO. How sweet the fragrant breath of May, At dreary winter's close! And sweet each bud and flow'ret gay, And dew-drop on the rose ! And sweet to hear the nightingale That lovely rose-bud woo! But sweeter far the tender tale That's told by I know who, That's told by I know who. T 290 THE AMERICA* How sweet the lark's shrill voice to hear, The blackbird and the thrush, And sweet the linnet's note, more near* Upon the hawthorn bush ! And sweet it is at eve to rove, And hear the dove's soft eoo f But sweeter far the tale of love, That's told by I know who, That's told by I know who* VALE CRUCia By Mr Rnscoe. Vale of the cross, the shepherds tell Tis sweet within thy woods to dwell, For there are sainted shadows seen, That frequent haunt the dewy green. In wandering winds the dirge is sung, The convent bell by spirits rung, And matin hymns and vesper prayer Break softly on the tranquil air. Vale of the cross, the shepherds tell *Tis sweet within thy woods to dwell, For peace has there her spotless throne, And pleasures to the world unknown; The murmurs of the distant rills, The Sabbath silence of the hills, And all the quiet God hath given, Without the golden gates of heaven. THE SPRIG GF SHILLELAH. Och, love is the soul of a nate Irishman, lie loves all the lovely, loves all that he can, With his sprig of shilielah and shamrock so greeri His heart is good-humoured — 'tis honest and sound, No malice or hatred is there to be found, He courts and he marries, he drinks and he fights, For love, all for love, for in that he delights, With his sprig of shilielah and shamrock so greea singer's own book. 291 Who has e'er had the luck to see Donnybrook fair, An Irishman nil in hia ulory is there, With his sprig of shillelah and shamrock so green, His clothes spick and spoil new without e'er a speck, A neat Barcelona lied round his white neck; He goes to a tent, and be spends half a crown, He meets with a friend, and for love knocks him down With a sprig of shillelah and shamrock so green. At evening returning, as homeward he goes, His heart soit with whiskey, his head sell with blows From a sprig of shillelah and shamrock so green, He meets with his Shelah, who, biushing a smile, Cries, 'Get ye gone, Pal,' yet consents all the while, To the priest then they go — and, nine months after that, A fine baby cries out, 'How d'ye do, father Pat, With your sprig of shillelah and shamrock so green ? Bless the country, say I, that gave Patrick his birth, Bless the land of the oak, and its neighbouring earth, Where grows the shillelah and shamrock so green,' May the sons of the Thames, the Tweed, and the Shannon, Drub the foe who dares plant on our confines a cannon ; United and happy, at loyalty's shrine, May the rose, leek and thistle, long flourish and twine Round a sprig of shillelah and shamrock so green. MY LOVELY BRUNETTE. My lovely brunette, to your Spanish guitar, 'Tis sweet to be dancing beneath the night star; INow winding through mazes, now culling eve flowers Weeping with dew-drops from Spain's sultry bowers My own native shores could 1 ever ft >rget, I should blame your guitar and your light Castanet 292 THE AMERICAN But my charming brunette, 'twere sweeter to me, To be seated beneath my own hawthorn tree ; To be telling my tale in my dear native isle, My Spanish love smiling upon me the while, Oh! there by the moonlight, 'twere sweeter by far To dance, my brunette, to your Spanish guitar. THE MERRY MOUNTAIN PIPE. The merry mountain pipe Sounds s weetiy on the hill ; In memory oft I hear Its lingering echoes still. Dear are the days long past, With those that now are gone ; They were too bright to last, And like sweet dreams have flown. The merry mountain pipe, &c But hope's enlivening ray, Beaming through anxious years, Will chase my cares away, And change to smiles my tears. The merry mountain pipe, &c MAIDENS YOUNG AND TENDER. Maidens young and tender. Take a hint from me ! Ne'er your heart surrender, Never married be ! If you wed an old beau, Jealous he will prove : Grumble at and scold you, All by way of love ! So maidens young and lender, Take a hint from me ! Ne'er your heart surrender Never married be! singer's own book. 293 If a youth you marry, You're better not a whit ; Your plans will all miscarry, For he wont submit ! Should you frown, he cries out, 1 Love, honour, and obey !' And though you weep your eyes out, You'll not get your own way ! So maidens young and tender, Take a hint from me ! Ne'er your heart surrender, Never married be. HARK! HARK! THROUGH THE WILD WOOD Tyrolese war so?ig, — Sung by Madame Yestris They come through the wild wood, I hear their warrior strain ; The haunts of their childhood Allure their steps again. I see their glittering spears afar, I hail the glorious voice of war, The sunbeams on their morions glance And quiver o'er each sparkling lance. I see their glittering spears afar, I hear the glorious voice of war, Hark! hark! through the wild wood, I hear the martial strain. Oh ! let not tears our welcome speak, Or cloud affection's brow : Tears gemm'd at parting even* cheek, But smiles should greet them now. Twine round their heart your spells of power, Home, peace, and love ! Through weary life's long future hour, No more, no more to rove. I see the glittering spears afar, I hail the glorious voice of war, Hark! hark! through the wild wood, Resounds the martial strain. 294 THE AMERICAN THE BRIGHT, BRIGHT SHORE. Sang by Mr Horn* I hear thy shell resound The trembling waters o'er, And the songs that swell around My own bright shore ! The melting charm I hear, The tuneful melody, That soothes the list'ning ear In the chambers of the sea, Where the ]\ T ereid sisters play, And the envied smile to reap Their wave-born loves array, All the treasures of the deep, But oh ! I may not leave, To roam the waters o'er, My own bright shore, The bright, bright shore! The golden hue of day, With the rich and radiant shower Of all the bloom of May, Here decks my parent bower; And hope, and truth, and love, If e'er w r ith mortals found, Thrice bless my native grove, And breathe a heaven around. Then hither from the wave, And share our sweeter store , hither from the wave, And share our sweeter store : 1 may not, cannot leave, The shore, the lovely shore, My owti bright shore, The bright, bright shore ! singer's own bcok. 295 OBERON'S CORONATION. The elf king is to be crowned to-night: The fairy court is all delight. Who is the elf king \ who's the elf king? Oberon, immortal sprite, Who rules the elfin world of night. That tiny, tiny, airy thing, Is Oberon, the fairy king' The mimic peal from cowslip bells Is ringing, merry ringing, Where tiny elves, hid in their cells, The fairy chimes are singing; Up elves and sprites, ye myriads up; And see king Oberon crovvn'd ; Haste to his court with light wing'd feet. Like spangles o'er the star-lit ground. All hail to thee! great Oberon, Enjoy thy festal rite, Monarch of a w r orid unseen, And fairy king of night SHE CHANTED HER LOVER TO COME. One morn when bright Phcebus was low, A maiden had straved from her home, And the sweet warbling lark rising slow, She chanted her lover to come. Through meadows o'erspangled with dew, 4 Sweet warbler, sweet warbler,' she cried, 'My lover, my lover's untrue,' And she sunk by a glossy brook side. 'Pretty warbler, 111 fly to rnv cot, Since my lover attends not to me; Forlorn and deserted's my lot, Adieu, both to him and to thee- 296 THE AMERICAN FAREWELL, MY LUTE. Farewell ! my lute, whose gentle tone Hath cheer'd my heart for many a day ; Companion lov'd, whose cho/ds had pow'r To chase my gloom and grief away. Whate'er my lot, where'er I roam, Fond thoughts of thee will often come, And I shall sigh for that dear home, Where thou hang'st mute, sweet lute ! Farewell ! my lute, &c. Farewell ! my love, whose soothing voice Broke like soft music on mine ear ; Whose heart to mine more warmly clung When all around grew dark and drear. Where'er I go, whate'er my lot, No word of thine can be forgot : Oft shall I sigh for that sweet spot, Where thou dost rove, dear love ! Farewell, my love ! farewell, my lute ! These eyes are dry, these lips are mute : Oh ! language fades before love's spell ,* My lute! my love! farewell, farewell! 'TIS MIDNIGHT. 'Tis midnight, and sweet melodies Are wafted o'er the tide, From one of those bright pleasure barques That on the waters glide. Gay lords are there, And ladies fair, Along the ship. They lightly trip ; I envy not their revelry While roving by thy side. singer's own BOOK. 2G7 Behold the moonbeams darting through The green transparent trees; And hear the light leaves answering The whispers of the breeze : "When winter throws Her chilling snows O'er all the earth, Then give me mirth : But oh! the dance was never meant For summer nights like these. MY HEART IS SAIR FOR SOMEBODY My heart is sair. I dare na tell, My heart is sair for somebody ; I could wake a winter night, For the sake o' somebody. Oh, hon! for somebody, Oh, hey! for somebody, I wad range the world around For the sake o' somebody. Ye powers that smile on virtuous love, O sweetly smile on somebody ; Frae ilka danger keep him free, And send me safe my somebody. Oh, hon! for somebody! Oh, hey! for somebody ! I wad gae — where wad I not ? For Fhe sake o' somebody. GREEN GROW THE RUSHES, O! There's nought but care on every nan', In every hour that passes, O! What signifies the life o' man, An' 'twere na for the lasses, O! Green grow the rushes, O! Green grow the rushes, O! The sweetest hours that e'er I spend Are spent amang the lasses, O ! 293 THE AMERICAN The warly race may riches chase, An' riches still may fly thein, O! An' tho' at last thcv catch them fast, Their hearts can ne'er enjoy them, 0! Green grow the rushes, &c Gie me a cannie hour at e'en, My arms about my dearie, O! Then warlv cares and warly men May a' gae tapsaheerie, O! Green grow the rushes, &c For you sae douse! ye sneer at this, Ye're nought but senseless asses, O The wisest man the warl' e'er saw, He dearly loved the lasses. O! Green grow the rushes, &c Auld nature swears, the lovely dears Her noblest work she classes, O! Her 'prentice han' she tried on man, An' then she made the lasses, O! Green grow the rushes, &<% OLD TOWLER. Bright chanticleer proclaims the dawn, And spangles deck the thorn; The kwing herds now quit the lawn, The lark springs from the corn. Dogs, huntsmen, round the window throng 1 , Fle°t Towler leads the cry; Arise! the burden of their song — This day a stag must die ! With a hey ho chevey! Hark forward, hark forward, tantivy. Hark, hark, tantivy! This day a stag must die. The cordial takes its merrv round, The laugh and joke prevail; The huntsman blows a jovial sound, The dogs snuff up the gale^ ringer's own book. 209 Tho upland winds they sweep along, O'er fields, through brakes thoy fly; Tho game is roused, too true the song — This day a stag must die ! With a hey ho, &c. Poor stag! the dogs thy haunches gore, The tears run down thy face ; The huntsman's pleasure is no more ; His joys were in the chase. Alike — the sportsmen of the town, The virgin game in view, Are full content to run them down, Then they in turn pursue. With a hey ho, &c. THE IRISHMAN. The savage loves his native shore, Though rude the soil and chill the air, Then well may Erin's sons adore Their isle, which nature formed so fair; What flood reflects the shore so sweet, As gloriou3 Boyne or pastoral Ban, Or who a friend or foe can meet, So gen'rous as an Irishman ? His hand is rash, his heart is warm, And principle is still his guide, None more regrets a deed of harm, And none forgives with nobler pride; He may be duped, but wont be dared; Fitter to practise than to plan, He ablv earns his poor reward, And spends it like an Irishman. If stransro and poor, for you he'll pay, And guide you where you safe may be; Are you his comrade? while you stay ills cottage holds a jubilee; 300 THE AMERICAN His inmost soul he will unlock, And if he may your merits scan, Your confidence he scorns to mock, For faithful is an Irishman. By honour bound, in wo or weal, Whate'er she bids he dares to do, Try him with gold, it wont prevail, But e'en in fire you'll find him true ; He seeks not safety — let his post Be where 'tis oft, in battle's van; And if the field of fame be lost, 'Twill ne'er be by an Irishman. Erin, lov'd land, from age to age, Be thou more great, more fam'd and free , May peace be thine, or shouldst thou wage Defensive wars, cheap victory; May plenty flow from every field, And gentle breezes sweetly fan ; May cheerful smiles serenely gild The breast of every Irishman. MARMION. The war that for a space did fail, Now doubly thundering swell'd the gale And 'Stanley!' was the cry: A light on Marmion's visage spread, And fired his glazing eye : With dying hand above his head, He shook the fragment of his blade, And shouted 'Victory! Charge, Chester, charge ! On, Stanley, on, Were the last words of Marmion. COME, FOLLOW ME. Come, follow, follow me, Ye fairy elves that be ; And lightly tripping o'er the green. Come, follow Mab your queen. singer's own book. 301 OH! DO NOT BID ME TO FORGET. Oh ! do not bid me to forget What once I loved so well, For I have ever, ever said, My heart shall not rebel. 'Twas on that soot beside the stream, Where last we fondly met, I promised him, whate'er my doom, I never would forget He loved me when we parted last, I know he loved me true, For falsehood never seem'd so fair, And wsll his looks I knew : For when he spoke his eye was fill'd, His cheek with tears was wet, His latest words, his last farewell, I never can forget. THE TOPSAILS SHIVER IN THE WIND The topsails shiver in the wind, Our ship she's cast to sea, But yet my soul, my heart, my mind, Are, Mary, moored with thee ; For though thy sailor's bound afar, Still love shall be my leading star. Should landsmen flatter when we've sailed, Oh doubt their artful Tales, No gallant sailor ever failed, If love breathed constant gales. Thou art the compass of my soul, Which steers my heart from pole to pole These are our cares: but if you're kind, We'll scorn the dashing main, The rocks, the billows, and the wind, Till we return again. Now freedom's glcry rest with you, Our sails are full, sweet girl, ddieu ' 302 THE AMERICAN THE MARINER'S CHILD TO HIS MOTHER. Oh ! weep no more, sweet mother, Oh ! weep no more to-night, And only watch the sea, mother, Beneath the morning light, Our beautiful Madonna Will mark how you have wept, The prayers of early morning, The vigils you have kept. She will guide his stately vessel, Though the sea be dark and drear; Another week of sunshino, My father will be here. I'll watch wilh thee, sweet motfier, But the stars fade from my sight: Come, come and sleep, dear mother, Oh ! ween no more to-night. SOFT GLIDES THE SEA. Sung by Miss Hughes. Soft glides the sea, Bounding a-nd free, Dance the blue waves, as they rush to the shore O'er vale and height Gleams the moon bright, Gaily the Mariner plies the swift oar, Singing awhile, 'Ere the sun lights the main, Land of my birth, I shall greet thee again.' Night wears away; Sullen and grey Frowns the dark sea ; o'er the wild restless deep Lightning's red flash, Thunder's loud crash Now quiver and peal — ' Go, Mariner, weep ; Haply I deem, though the sun lights the main, [ts rays to thy land shall not greet thee again/ singer's own book. 303 Tempests are fled ; Morning hath shed Light from her rye and balm from her breath , All things rejoice ; Heard is the voice Of the Mariner now singing praises of home. The ship's gallant prow presses on through the main, And he treads on the land of his lathers again *C3 V SLEEP, GENTLE LADY. A Serenade. Sleep, gentle lady, flowers are closing, The very winds and waves reposing; O, let our soft and soothing numbers Wrap thee in sweeter, softer slumbers! Peace be around thee, lady bright, Sleep, while we sing — good night, good night I THE SABBATH BRIDAL. A Dialogue. 'Whither I pray, whither I pray, Pretty young maiden, wouldst thou stray? Whither I pray, whither I pray, Pretty young maiden, wouldst thou stray?* 'Sir, 1 am waiting the sabbath-bell, For one, long known and loved full well, Who promised that, on this sacred day, He would bear me a bride to his bower away.' 'He sends me to thee with this willow wreath, To recall the fond words he used to breathe. He will wed one as fair as thou to-day ; And he rives me to woo thee, if so J may/ That willow wreath I need not wear: For this (]o th> tell-tale eyes declare — Let him wed his fair maid, and to her be tru So now thou may's! woo n:e, and win me too-' 304 THE AMERICAN He has doffed his disguise — he has changed his tone: By the pretty young maiden he was known. They have knelt at the altar — pronounced their vow, &nd the bells ring so merrily for them now. THE WOODBINE BOWER. Oh ! come to me at this soft hour, When flowers inhale the balmy dew, Oh, meet me in the woodbine bower, That I have fondly wreath'd lor you. The moon, that with her silver light, Now brightly beams on tow'r and tree ,* But O ! those eyes are far more bright, Which fondly, fondly gaze on me! Oh ! come to me, &c. Dear maid, the breezes murmur soft, Around the grove and hawthorn tree, Whose wide and leafy branches oft Have safely shaded thee and me, And now, reclin'd beneath its bongh, By yonder vault of azure hue, And its bright orb, I swear my vows Shall never, never prove untrue. Then come to me, &c. INDEX OF TITLES AND FIRST LINES. Absence 22 A damsel stood to watch the fight 101 Adieu ! adieu! my native shore 71 Adieu, adieu, my only life 184 A fond youth serenaded his love 209 A garden formed by nature wild 131 A heart that once has loved like mine 101 A highland laddie heard of war 185 Ah no ! Dearest, no 197 Ah ! say not thou art lonely now 214 Ah ! what is the bosom's commotion 125 Ah ! where can fly my soul's true love 185 Alice Gray 42 Alknomook 218 Allen-a-Dale has no fagot for burning t . 190 All in the downs the fleet was moored 149 All the Blue Bonnets are over the Border 113 Alone by the Schuylkill a wanderer roved 13 A maiden there was who was silly and shy 200 America, Commerce, and Freedom 280 American Star 238 And are ye sure the news is true 194 And has she then failed in her truth 197 And ye shall walk in silk attire 70 Anna of Conway 198 An old man would be wooing 183 Annot Lyle G4 Annot Lyle's Song 253 Arab Steed 33 Araby's Daughter 130 Arouse, arouse, ilk kilted clan 128 As I walked last night 90 Ask not why it is I love thee 217 A soldier's the lad for my notion 164 u SQ6 i>;dex of titles A soldier's the lad I adore 129 As pensive one night in my garret I sate 282 As sunlight falls on crystal streams 277 As the sun climbs o'er the hills 138 At dawn, Aurora gaily breaks 44 Auld Lang Syne 161, 240 Auld Robin Gray 253 Away, away, my Barb and I 183 Away ! away, to the mountain's brow 127 Away, my bounding steed, away 85 Away ! my gallant page, away 40 Away with melancholy 32 Bavarian Broom Girl 120 Bav of Biscay, 154 Beautiful Maid 193 Begone, dull care, 1 pray thee begone 239 Behave yoursel' before folk 200 Behold ! how brightly breaks the morning 39 Behold! in his soft expressive face 147 Behold me, sung Hassan, the fearless and free— .►. 9 Be mine, dear maid, this faithful heart 89 Bid me discourse, I will enchant thine ear 201 Billy, let's thank Providence that you and 1 247 Birks of Aberfeldy 199 Black-eyed Susan 149 Blow, warder, blow thy sounding horn 132 Blue-eyed Mary 191 Bold and true 215 Bonnie Doon 170 Bonnie lassie, will ye go, will ye go 199 Bonnie Wee Wife 193 Bonnv Boat 81 Bonny Lad 281 Bonny Sleigh 237 Boys of Switzerland 153 Braes of Balquhither 246 Bridal Star 280 Bride 52 Bright are the beams of the morning sky 75 Bright, bright shore 294 Bright chanticleer proclaims the dawn 298 Brignal banks »» 11? AND FIRST LINES. 307 Bring flowen, young flowers, to the festal 229 Bring me, boy, a flowing bowl 249 Broken Flower 77 Bruce*! Address 99 Backet Burial of Sir Thomas Moore 211) Buy my Roses ( J2 Canadian Boat Song 130 Captain Bell 223 Carrier Pigeon 162 Cease, rude Boreas, blustering railer 47 Chase that Starting Tear away 118 Cherry ripe, ripe, I cry 93 Chundah's Song 101 Columbia ! Columbia ! to glory arise 203 Come, arouse thee, arouse thee, my brave 55 Come, buy my little roses red 92 Come, chase that starting tear away 118 Come dwell with me , 44 Come, follow, follow me 300 Come haste thee, come haste thee, my bonny 55 Come hither ! come hither ! the silver light 202 Come hither, thou beautiful rover 1G2 Come, listen to my song, love 108 Come, love, to me 86 Come, my gallant soldier, come 130 Come over the mountains, my bonny Swiss 91 Come, rest in this bosom, my own stricken deer. . . 29 Come, strike the bold anthem, the war-dogs 238 Come, tell me, blue-eyed s-tranger 1151 Come to the sun -set tree 271 Comin' through the Rye 10 Convent Bell. 144 Croos-keen Lawn • 156 Cupids Visit 212 Dame Durden kept five serving girls 250 Dame Na1 me day, in a comical mood 95 Dashing White Serjeant 114 Day has gonedowu; on the Baltic's bright 178 Daylight fades 276 303 INDEX OF TITLES Dear harp of my country ! in darkness I found thee 255 Dear Nati ve Home 203 Deep in a vale a cottage stood 220 Denounced 232 Deserted by declining day 202 Deserted by the waning moon 152 Diavolo 8? Dinna forget, laddie ! dinna forget 249 Downhill of Life 186 Draw the sword, Scotland ]50 Drink to me only with thine eyes 247 Dulce Domum 203 Echo Dur t G6 Eleanor Grey , 174 Encompassed in an angers frame 204 Ere around the huge oak, that o'ershadows 182 Ere bright Rosina met my eyes 205 Even as the sun — the sun wi 1 purple. 97 Evening Hymn of the Vintagers 266 Evening Song of the Tyrolese Peasants 271 Exile of Erin 122 Faint and wearily the way-worn traveller 162 Faintly as tolls the evening chime 136 Fairest of the Fair 141 Fair Rose has charms alone for me 252 Fall not in love, dear girls, beware 135 Fare-tbee-well, and if for ever 182 Fare-thee-well, thou lovely one 38 Farewell, farewell to thee, Araby's daughter 130 Farewell ! my lute, whose gentle tone 296 Farewell, thou fair day, thou green earth 205 Farewell to my harp 255 Far, far at sea 268 Far, far o'er hill and dell 144 Farmer's Daughter 243 Far o'er the w -we, as morn's soft beam 203 Fiddler Boy 225 Fishermen's Glee 176 Flowing Bowl 249 Flow on, thou shining river 137 Fly away, pretty moth, to the sliade 126 Follow, follow through the sea 138 AND FIRST LINES. 309 Friends depart, and memory takes them 37 Friend in the battle day 1,1 Forget thee !— in my banquet hall 40 From TeutchlandJ come, with my light 120 From the white-blossomed sloe, my dear 221 Gaily sounds the Castanet 159 Gaily the Troubadour touched his guitar 217 Galley Slave 171 Gascon Vespers 76 Gentle Zitella, whither away 103 Gin a body meet a body JO Gi\ e me, my love, before we part °3 Give me, my love, the roseate flower 151 Glide on, my bark 77 Glowing with love, on fire for fame 80 Good Night 93 Good night, good night, my dearest 124 Go patter to lubbers" and swabs, do ye see ... 2(i4 Green grow the Rushes, 2J? Had I a heart for falsehood framed 208 Hail Columbia ! happy land 34 Hail, great republic of the world 234 Hail to the chief who in triumph advances 121 Hame frae the wars, broken, friendless 20b' Happy Swiss Boy 01 Hark ! hark ! through the wild wood 2'.'3 Hark ! o'er the wave, the north blast is howling. . . 288 Hark ! the bonny Christ Church bells 240 Hark! the merry peal is ringing 76 Hark! the muffled drum sounds the last 147 Hark, the vesper hymn is stealing 279 Harper's Sons; 58 Hassan the Brave 9 He cojr.es from the wars, from the red field 158 He is gone on the mountain 207 He leap'd into his boat 104 Henry's Cottage maid 189 Here, a sheer hulk, lies poor Tom Bowling ........ 1G5 Here awa, there aw a, wandering Willie 208 Her eyes with her pale hand are shaded 181 Here, fai away from wealth and pow'r 269 310 INDEX OF TITLES Here mark a poor desolate maid 2u£ Here's a Health, Bonnie Scotland, to thee 84 Here's a health to all good lasses 2(;0 Here's the hotile she loved so much 206 Here's the bower she loved so much 31 Here we meet, too soon to part 11 J He strikes the minstrel lyre again 43 He was a chief of low degree 22(5 Hey the Bonnie Breast Knots 58 Highland Mary 8 His white plume o'er the mountain streams 280 Home, Sweet Home 157 Honi soit qui mal y pense 7J Hours there were to memory dearer 140 How blest the life a sailor leads 280 How dear to ihis heart are the scenes of my 268 How sweet at close of silent eve 50 How sweet the fragrant, breath of May 289 Hunter's Horn 139 Huntsmen's Song and Chorus 73 Hurra h for the Emerald Isle 279 I am a friar of orders gray 209 I am Marian Ramsay, from Scotland I cone 98 I dream'd that my love 288 I'd be a butterfly, bora in a bower 275 If I had a beau 114 If silent looks betoken CO If you ask, what is love 179 I give thee all, I can no more 119 I have a silent sorrow here 213 I have plucked the sweetest flower 173 I hear thy shell resound 294 I knew by the smell which so gratefully rose 261 I know a bank whereon the wild thyme 165 i know Who 289 I love m v Jean 65 I'll say Yes. when I'm ask'd „ . . . 266 I'll watch for thee from my lonely bower 164 I love the viilage church 258 I'm bending o'er a stranger's hearth 244 Vm wearing awa, Jean . 135 AND FIRST LIHSS. 311 fn Derrv down dale when I u anted I mate '.V) Ingle Bide 115 In Home [ find S 175 In the downhill of life wh in I find I'm 1^6 Invincibles 173 Irishman 299 Isabel 1 J4 I see them on their \\ hiding way 89 I should very much like to know 90 I sing the maid of Lodi 274 Is there a heart thai never loved 153 Is there a man that n \ • r Bighed 21J It is not where bright eye* are brightest 197 Its rare to see t he morning bleeze 11J It was at twilight's dusky hour 25(1 I've gazed upon thy sunny smile 168 I've no sheep on the mountain, nor boat 10 I wont be a \un 271 Jessie, the flow'r o' Dumblane 134 Jockey to the Fair 277 John Anderson, my jo, John 139 Kate B 32 Kate Ken me] Answer to) V 194 Kathleen O 7 24o Ladybird. ladybird, fly away home 216 Lady, sing no more ; 106 Landing of Royal Charlie 7 J Land of Love and Liberty 234 Land o' the Leal '. 135 La Rose d' Amour 70 Lass o' Gowrie 248 Lass wi' th i b nny blue e'en 07 st Bugle ". 147 Last Shilling 289 Last Whistle 170 Lavender Girl 138 Lay of the Minstrel Kniiht 2 Lay of the Wandering Arab 1 Let him \ rhs in sadness here 100 Ltt the banner of France be unfurled 79 Let Uie epicure boast the delight of his soul 2H 312 INDEX OF TITLES Let the farmer praise his grounds 156 Let us go, lassie, go 246 Let us haste to Kelvin grove, bonnie lassie, 112 Life 133 Life let us cherish 30 Life's like a ship in constant motion 286 Light Guitar 86 Light Guitar (Answer to) 87 Light House 259 Lily of France 79 Lily of Nithsdale 235 Living echo, bird of eve 95 Look on that brow — a playful smile 106 Loud roared the dreadful thunder 154 Love among the Roses 187 Love and the sun-dial 27 Love from the Heart 100 Love has Eyes. — Love's blind, they say 152 Love in the Heart 21S Lover's Mistake 269 Love's Ritornella 103 Love thee, dearest, love thee 41 Love wakes and weeps 210 Love, wand'ring through the rain 212 Maidens young and tender 2D2 Maid of Llanwellyn 10 Maid of Lodi 274 Maltese Boatman's Song 87 Man the Brother of Man 211 March, march, Ettrick and Teviotdale 113 March to the battle field 123 Marian Ramsay 98 Mariner's Bride 283 Mariner's Child to His Mother 302 Marmion 300 Marseilles Hymn of Liberty 1G2 Mellow Horn 44 Meeting of the Waters 166 Meet me by moonlight alone 156 Meet me to-night in the path which lies 181 Mermaid Song ]33 Merrily Dance round the Missletoe Tree 202 AND FIRST LINES. 313 Merrily every bosom boundeth 241 Iflerrilj , merrily, boandfl the bark 220 Merry ."Mountain Horn 130 Men \ Mountain Pipe S Mid pleasure and palaces 156 Mild Segar 193 Minstrel Boy lv> Minstrels Return from the War 63 Minute Gun at Sea 1(50 Miseries of Saturday ]£9 Money is your Friend 2U0 Moon-lit Bower 2 Morgiana 125 Mother 106 Motherless 2 Mountaineer's Return 285 Mountain Shepherd's Lay 224 Mr. Orator Purl* had two tones in his voice 53 Muleteer 232 Mulete r*a Return 2 Musical Wife S&6 My bark is upon the deep, love , . 28 My boat is on the shore To" My bonnie lass, now turn to me 113 My cottage and vine 2 My dark hair'd girl 254 My early love ! I'll think on thee 213 My Friend and Pitcher 45 My Ih art and Lute 119 My heart is sair for somebody 2 ( J7 My Heart is Thine 217 My heart with love is beating 160 My Highland home, where tempests blow 221 My lovely brunette, to your Spanish guitar 2D1 My love, still I think that I see her once 245 My Luve'S like a Red, Red Rose .... 59 My Native Land, Good Night 71 My siste" dear, o'er this rude cheek 67 My wife s very musical 286 Nae Luck a ^out the House 104 Nay, ask me sot ; the moon lit-bower 283 Neva Boatmen e Song 276 No more by sorrow chased, my heart 232 No! No 46 314 INBEX OF TITLES Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note 219 Nothing at All 30 Nothing True but Heaven 168 Now at moonlight's fairy hour 105 Now hope and fear my bosom rending 66 Now ia it not a pity such a pretty girl as 1 271 Oberon's Coronation 2j)5 O Bold and True 215 O Brignal banks are wild and fair 117 Och, love is the soul of a nate Irishman 290 Of a' the airs the wind can blaw 65 Of friendship I've heard much talk 260 Oft in the stilly night 29 Oh ! after many roving years ■. 50 Oh ! am I then remembered still 94 Oh ! blame not the bard 26 Oh ! come to me at this soft hour 304 Oh, come with me, T'll row thee o'er 177 Oh ! did you ne'er hear of Kate Kearney 32 Oh ! do not bid me to forget 301 Oh give me but my Arab steed 33 Oh ! lady, come to the Indies with me 223 Oh, lady fair, where art thou roaming 146 Oh! leave me not, my only one 61 Oh! leave the gay and festive scene 86 Oh, leave the noisy, smoky scene 103 Oh! list to my lay, said a minstrel gray 223 Oh, long shall I think of the miller's fair 174 Oh ! Merry Row the Bonnie Bark 63 Oh ! no, I'll never mention him Ill Oh, no, 1 never mentioned it 231 Oh! not when hopes are brightest 2*24 Oh, Pilot! 'tis a fearful night t3 Oh! Rest thee. Babe 74 Oh ! roam with me o^er distant hills 224 Oh ! say, can you see by the dawn's early light • ... 7 Oh ! slumber, my darling \ i Oh ! sweetly the noon-day is ending 86 Oh swiftly glides tbe bonnv boat 81 Oh! take her, but be faithful still 53 Oh tell me how from love to fly 172 Oh! think not my spirits are always as light 126 Oh, thi ii k on my fate ! once I freedom 171 Oh ! thou who dry'st the mourner's tear 128 AND FIRST LINES. 3\ij Dli! 'tis love, 'tis love, 'tis love 145 ()li! wear it on thy breast, my love 77 Oh ! wop no more, sweet mother 302 Oh! what can compare to the huntsman's 73 Oh ! why should the girl of my soul 157 Oh years have flow n since first we met 1G1 Oh ! yes, 1 have seen this Kate Kearney 104 O lassie, art thou sleeping yet 233 Old oak Tree 284 Old Towler 298 O listen, listen to the voice of Love 230 O, my hive's like a red, rml rose 59 O Nannie, wilt thou gang wi' me 141 One little word before we part 2C7 One morn when bright Phoebus was low 295 One night came on a hurricane, the sea was 247 O never Fall in Love 135 On this cold flinty rock 254 On yonder rock reclining 83 Orator Tuff 53 Origin of Old Bachelors 95 Orynthia, n:y beloved, I call in vain 2G7 O saw ye the lass wi 1 tin; bonnie hluc een 67 O! say not woman's love is bought G9 O! sweet is twilight's hour 283 O swiftly glides the bonny sleigh 237 O tell na me o' wind and rain 233 Our bugles sang truce, for the night cloud 179 Our cot was sheltered by a wood . . . 153 Our country is our ship, dye see 270 Pensez a Moi, ma Chore Amie 5? Phantom Ship • 53 Piljrrim of Love 2G7 Pilot -. 83 Pirate's Son? .' 223 Plain Gold Ring 22G Ply the oar, brother, and speed the boat 176 Poor Jack 264 Prav, Goody, please to moderate the 97 Pretty Mocking Bird 95 Red-Cross Knight 132 Remember the glories of Brian the brave 177 Rest, Warrior, Rest 158 Rise, Gentle Moon 178 316 INDEX OF TITLES Rise, Gentle Moon (Answer to) 273 Rise, warrior, rise, the morn has shed 273 Romaika 57 Rosabel 92 Rose of Allandale 51 Rose of Peace 49 Roy's wife of Aldivalloch 1£0 Sabbath Bridal , 303 Sailor's Return 22G Sailor's Tear 105 Say, my heart, whence comes thine anguish 261 Say, what is dear to the heart of the brave 174 Scots, wha hac wi' Wallace bled 99 Secret of Singing 106 See, brothers, see, how the night comes on 87 Seek not with gold or glittering gem 35 See ! the conquering hero comes 216 Serenade 303 She chanted her lover to come 295 She is a winsome wee thing 198 She is far from the land where her young 169 She never blamed him, never 109 She's all my fancy painted her 42 She's gane to dwall in heaven, my lassie 235 She sung, but afraid of her own sweet voice 211 She walks in beauty, like the night 74 She weeps o'er the trinkets he gave her 181 Should auld acquaintance be forgot 240 Should he upbraid, I'll own that he prevail 272 Should these fond hopes e'er forsake thee 119 Sigh not for love, if you wish not to know 43 Since then I'm doomed this sad reverse 145 Sleep, gentle lady, flowers are closing 303 Slowly wears the day, love , . 115 Smile again, my bonnie lassie 114 Soft glides the sea 302 Soldier's Adieu 184 Soldier's Dream 179 Soldier's Gratitude 92 Soldier's last Sigh 82 Soldier's Tear ^ 110 Song of Death « 205 Song of the Skaters 258 Song to the Ladybird 216 AND FIRST LINES. 317 Mi as the sun his early ray 222 \\ ijnulv w e met, and so fondly we parted 2G Spri^ of Shillelah 290 Stai Spangled Banner 7 Stcrin 47 Bummer gone and past 53 Sun that lights the rosea 109 Sweets of Liberty 215 Swift from the covert the merry pack fled 13'.) Swiss Boy 55 Swiss Hunter's Welcome Home 102 Swiss Maid 55 1 ake heed ! whisper low 39 Teach, oh ! teach me to forget 37 Tell me, "nave you seen a toy 70 The Anchor's Weighed 272 The bridegroom at the altar's side 104 The Campbells are comin, O ho, O ho 1G0 The chough and crow to roost are gone 192 The de'il cam' fiddlin through the town 191 The downy cheek so red, so fair 1G9 The elf king is to be crowned to-night 295 The fiddler's boy to the fair is gone 225 The Golden Girl 02 The harp that once thio' Tara's halls 79 The heath is all lonely and drear, love 2-7 The Highland Widow 61 The kiss, dear maid, thy lips have left 73 The lad that i love no lassie shall know 187 The last link is broken 107 The merry mountain pipe 2 J The minstrel boy to the war is gone 12 The moon had burst the clouds of heaven 22(5 The moon is up! iier silvery beam 273 The morn was fair, the skies were clear 51 The mountain maid from her bower lias hied 98 Then wake from thy slumbers 285 The old oak tree our shade shall be 2-4 The parting beam of day 285 The Ray that beams forever 78 There came to the beach a poor exile of Erin 122 There i- a bloom that never fades 73 There is no music on the strings 61 There is no peace about the house IS? 318 INDEX OF TITLES There is not in the wide world a valley 16G There's a health to the friends that are far 279 There's a tear that flows when we part 56 There's news from Moidart cam' yestreen 72 There's nought but care on every ban' 297 The rose will cease to blow 230 The savage loves his native shore 299 The scene was more beautiful far to my eye 259 The snow-white plume her bonnet bore 64 The soldier, tired of war's alarms 166 The spring time of year is coming, coming 287 The sun has gane down o'er the lofty Benlomond. . 134 The sun sets at night, and the stars shun 218 The tear fell gently from her eye 272 The toast be dear woman 75 The topsails shiver in the wind 30] The trumpet mav summon thy soldier away 82 The Voice of Her 1 Love 50 The war that for a spa<*e did fail 300 The wealthy fool, with gold in store 45 The winds whistle cold 275 They come through the. wild wood 293 They told me not to love him 256 The young May moon is beaming, love 188 They say my heart is not sincere 252 They say, that in the bowers 49 Thine am I, my faithful fair 172 This bleak and chilly morning 258 This love— how it plagues me « 209 This world is all a fleeting show » 163 Thorn 221 Thou art gone awa, thou'rt gone awa , . . . 99 Though dimpled cheeks may give the light 107 Thouah some have a notion at all times to 175 'Tis but Fancy's Sketch 262 'Tis evening, and the sun's last gleam 266 'Tis midnight, and sweet melodies 296 'Tis night — where strays my muleteer 222 'Tis said that absence conquers love 68 Toll not the bell of death for me 81 Tom Bowling « . ,. ....... 165 ED 1 DOT LINES. 319 Tom Starboard w as a lover true 163 Too Many 1 2 Fo sigh, yet feel no pain »,4 Troubadour 80 Tru" Yankee Sailor 155 'Twus at night, when the bell had toll'd twelve 268 Twaa midnight dark 53 Twaa on a simmer's afternoon 248 Twaa one morn, when the wind from the 142 'Twas on the morn of sweet May day 277 v Twis vou, sir, 'twas you, sjr 244 Twilight Dewa 331 Twilight Hour 2^3 Twilight's Hour 256 Tyrolese Song of Liberty 241 Upon the bill he turned, to take a last 110 Uprouse ye, then, my Merry Men 192 Vale Crucis. — Vale of the cross 290 Vesper Hymn 279 Wake, dearest, wake ! and again united 124 Wake ! lady, wake ! the midnight moon 227 Wake! maiden, wake! the moon 92 Wandering Willie 208 Watchman 124 Waters of Elle, thy limpid streams 116 Way-worn Traveller 162 We are born ; we laugh ; we weep 133 Weber's Last Thoughts .'. 244 Welcome me Home 217 Welcome, mother ! now I greet thee 243 Welcome of Royal Charlie 128 We met ! 'twas in a crowd, and I thought 88 We never breathe his name 232 We're a' noddin, ui