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And smiles are near, that once enchanted,
areach'd by all that sunshine round,
My soul, like some dark spot, is haunted
By thee, thee, only thee.

Whatever in fame's high path could waken is now forsaken

My spirit once,

For thee, thee, only thee.

Like shores, by which some headlong bark
To the ocean hurries-resting never-
ife's scenes go by me, bright or dark,
I know not, heed not, hastening ever
To thee, thee, only thee.

ave not a joy but of thy bringing, ind 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, his heart, howe'er the world may wake Its grief, its scorn, can but be broken By thee, thee, only thee.

NE'ER ASK THE HOUR.

AIR-" My Husband's a journey to Portugal gone."

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.

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,

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As long as his light was glowing,

Than to watch with old Care how the shadow

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!

AWAY with this pouting and sadness,

A lottery, a lottery,

A Spirit there is, whose fragrant sigh,

A beam of tranquility smil'd in the west,

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As a beam o'er the face of the waters may glow 112
Ay-down to the dust with them, slaves as they

are,

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

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

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Believe me, if all those endearing young charms 128
By the hope within us springing,
By that lake whose gliomy shore,
CANI again that look recall,

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

Come, lads, life's a whirligig,

Come, take the harp-'tis vain to muse,

Come hither 'come hither-by night and by day,
Come, send round the wine, and leave points of
belief,

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

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Does the harp of Rosa slumber?

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Drink to her, who long,

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Dear harp of my country, in darkness I found

thee,

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Erin! the tear and the smile in thine eyes,

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

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Farewell-farewell to thee, Araby's daughter! 86

Fly not yet, 'tis just the hour,

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Farewell! but whenever you welcome the hour, 175

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Forget not the field where they perish'd,
Good night, good night, and is it so ?
Girl, dost thou know me?

Go where Glory waits thee,

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

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How oft a cloud with envious veil,

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How dear to me the hour when daylight dies, 117

How oft has the Benshee cried,

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Here we dwell in holiest bowers,

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Has sorrow thy young days shaded,

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If I swear by that eye, you'll allow,

I knew by the smoke that so gracefully curl'd,
I know where the wing d vivions dwell,
If ever lot was prosperously cast,
1. do confess in many a sigh,

It is not the tear at this moment shed,
I saw thy form in youthful prime,
I'd mourn the hopes that leave me,

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I saw from the beach, when the morning was

shining,

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

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I more than once have heard at night,

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In the morning of life when its cares are un

known,

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If thou'lt be mine, the treasures of air,

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MR. Orator Puff had two tone in his voice

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Nay, tell me not, dear, that the goblet drowns, 158 No, not more welcome the fairy numbers,

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No, ne'er did the wave in its element steep,

Now the vapour hot and damp,

Not many months have now been dream'd away,210
Oh, Lady fair, where art thou roaming?
Oh! had I leisure to sigh and mourn,

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

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

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On beds of snow the moon beam slept,
One morn a Peri at the gate,

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

Oh! think not my spirits are always as light,

Oh, Mary, to thee my thoughts stray,

Oh, haste and leave this sacred isle,
Oh, weep for the hour,

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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,
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Oh! had we some bright little isle of our own, 173
Oh! doubt me not-the season,
Oh! where's the slave so lowly,

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Oh, for the swords of former time !
Pain and sorrow shall vanish before us,
Robert Rumble, a poet of lyric renown,
Remember the glories of Brien the brave,
Rich and rare were the gems she wore,
Remember thee! yes, while there's life in this

heart,

Sweet seducer ever smiling,

Sweetest love, I'll not forget thee,

Spirit of joy! thy altar lies,

Says Sammy, the tailor to me,

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Silent, oh Moyle! be the roar of thy water,

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Sublime was the warning which liberty spoke. 126
She is far from the land where her young hero
sleeps,

See you beneath yon cloud so dark,

There breathes the language known and felt,
Take back the sigh, thy lips of art,
Twas a new feeling, something more,

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