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ind smiles are near, that once enchanted, ET NOT reach'd by all that sunshine round,

My soul, like some dark spot, is haunted

By thee, thee, only thee.

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hatever in fame's high path could waken
y spirit once, is now forsaken

For thee, thee, only thee.
age 20ð tbe ke shores, by which some headlong bark
pieasts on to the ocean hurries—resting never-
ce pour fe's scenes go by me, bright or dark,
merren I know not, heed not, hastening ever

To thee, thee, only thee.

theri luave not a joy but of thy bringing,
ini sed nd pain itself seems sweet, when springing

From thee, thee, only thee.
ike spells, that nought on earth can break,
Till lips, that know the charm have spoken,
This heart, howe'er the world

may

wake Its grief, its scorn, can but be broken

By thee, thee, only thee.

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NE'ER ASK THE HOUR.

The Man lir—My Husband's a journey to Portugal

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NE'ER ask the hour, what is it to us

How Time deals out his treasures?"
The golden moments lent us thus,
Are not his coin, but Pleasure's.

24

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If counting them over could add to their blisses,

I'd number each glorious second ;
But moments of joy, are like Lesbia's kisses,
Too quick and sweet to be reckon'd.
Then fill the cup, what is it to us

How Time his circle measures
The fairy hours we call up thus,

Obey no wand but Pleasure's!

Youug Joy ne'er thought of counting hours,

Till Care, one summer morning,
Sat up, among his smiling flowers,

A dial, by way of warning ;
But Joy lov'd better to gaze on the Sun,

As long as his light was glowing,
Than to watch with old Care how the shadow

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stole on,

And how fast the light was going.
So fill up the cup, what is it to us

How Time his circle measures?
The fairy hours we call up thus,

Obey no wand but Pleasure's !

Page.
AWAY with this pouting and sadness,

40
A lottery, a lottery,

55
A Spirit there is, whose fragrant sigh,

67
A beam of tranquility smil'd in the west, 92
As a bea in o'er the face of the waters may glow 112
Ay-down to the dust with them, slaves as they
are,

131
Avenging and bright fell the swift sword of Erin 159
At the mid hour of night, when stars are weep-
ing, I fly,

166
Alone by the Schuylkill a wanderer rov'd, 197
As slow our ship her foamy track,

226
Believe me, if all those endearing young charms 128
By the hope within us springing,

110
By that lake whose gliomy shore,

156
CAN I again that look recall,

19
Cease, oh! cease to tempt my tender heart to love 26
Could'st thou look as dear as when,

34
Come, lads, life's a whirligig,

49
Come, take the harp- 'tis vain to muse, 64
Come hither 'come hither-by night and by day, 78
Come, send round the wine, and leave points of
belief,

125
Come o'er the sea,

180
Conne, rest in this bosom, my own stricken deer 190
Dear aunt! in the olden time of love,

50
Does the harp of Rosa slumber?

58
Drink to her, who long,

193
Dear harp of my country, in darkness I found
thee,

195
Erin! the tear and the smile in thine eyes, 101
Faintly as tolls the evening chime,

16
Fly from the world, oh, Bessy, to me,

21
Friend of my soul, this goblet sip,

24
Fanny was in the grove,

38
Fly to the desert, fly with me,

81
From Chindara's warbling fount I come, 82
Farewell-farewell to thee, Araby's daughter! 86
Fly not yet, 'tis just the hour,

104
Farewell ! but whenever you welcome the hour, 175
Fill the bumper fair,

193
From rise of morn till set of sun,

205

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Forget not the field where they perish'd, 237 Good night, good night, and is it so ?

23 Girl, dost thou know me ?

57 Go where Glory waits thee,

98 Here's the bower she lov'd so much,

22 Holy be the Pilgrim's sleep,

32 Here's the lip that betray'd,

53 Have you not seen the timid tear,

59 How sweetlp could I lay my head,

108 How oft a cloud with envious veil,

108 How dear to me the hour when daylight dies, 117 How oft has the Benshee cried,

118 Here we dwell in bolie-t bowers,

162 Has sorrow thy young days shaded,

181 It I swear by that eye, you'll allow,

61 I knew by the smoke that'so gracefully curl'd,

68 I know where the wing d vivions dwell, If ever lot was prosperously cast,

73 I. do confess in many a sigh,

93 It is not the tear at this moment shed,

146 I saw thy form in youthful prime,

154 I'd mourn the hopes that leave

178 I saw from the beach, when the morning was shining,

192 I ne'er on that lip for a minute have gaz'd

203 I more than once have heard at night,

204 In the morning of life when its cares are unknown,

228 If thou'lt he mine, the treasures of air,

235 Love my Mary, dwells with thee,

67 Let Erin remember the days of old,

122 Like the bright lamp that lay in Kildare's holy shrine,

129 Lesbia bath a beaming eye,

153 Mr. Orator Puff had two tone in his voice Mary, I believ d thee true,

69 Merrily every bosoni boundeth,

65 My gentle harp' once more I waken,

225 Now let the warrior plume his steed,

25 No, never shall my soul forget,

108 Night clos'd around the conqueror's way, 141 Nay, tell me not, dear, that the goblet drowns, 168 No, not more welcome the fairy numbers,

183

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52

No, ne'er did the wave in its element steep, 199
Now the vapour hot and damp,

207
Not many months have now been dream'd away,210
Oh, Lady fair, where art thou roaming?

18
Oh! had I leisure to sigh and muurn,

20
Oh! why should the girl of my heart be in tears, 28
Our wbite sail caught the evening ray,

35
Oh! remember the time in La Mancha's shades, 39
Oh! nothing in life can sadden us,

59
On beds of snow the moon beam slept,

78
One ngorn a Peri at the gate,

85
Oh! breathe not his name, let it sleep in the
shade,

103
Oh! think not my spirits are always as light, 105
Oh, Mary, to thee my thoughts stray,

107
Oh, haste and leave this sacred isle,

114
Oh, weep for the hour,

121
Oh ! blame not the bard if he fly to the bowers, 135
Oh ! 'tis sweet to think, that where'er we rove, 142
Oh! the days are gone, when beauty bright, 148
One bumper at parting, though many,

168
Oh! bad we some bright little isle of our own, 173
Oh! doubt me not—the season,

176
Oh! where's the slave so lowly,

189
Oh, for the swords of former time !

239
Pain and sorrow shall vanish before us,

36
Robert Rumble, a poet of lyric renown,

46
Remember the glories of Brjen the brave, 100
Rich and rare were the gems she wore,

111
Remember thee! yes, while there's life in this
heart,

231
Sweet seducer ever smiling,

21
Sweetest love, I'll not forget thee,

31
Spirit of joy! thy altar lies,

47
Says Sammy, the tailor to me,

44
Silent, oh Moyle! be the roar of thy water, 124
Sublime was the warning which liberty spoke. 126
She is far from the land where her young hero
sleeps,

155
See you beneath yon cloud so dark,

219
There breathes the language known and felt,
Take back the sigh, thy lips of art,

20
Twas a new feeling, something more,

27

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