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Where all looks flow'ry, wildand sweet,

And nought but love is wanting;
We think how great had been our bliss,

If heav'n had but assign’d us
To live and die in scenes like this,

With some we've left behind us!

As trav’llers oft look back at eve,

When eastward darkly going,
To gaze upon that light they leave

Still faint behind them glowing, -
So, when the close of pleasure's day

To gloom hath near consign'd us, We turn to catch one fading ray.

Of joy that's left behind us.

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Air-The Little Harvest Rose.

In the morning of life, when its cares are un

known, And its pleasures in all their new lustre begin,

When we live in a bright beaming world of our

own, And the light that surrounds us is all from

within ; Oh! 'tis not believe me, in that happy time We can love, as in hours of less transport we

may; Of our smiles, of our hopes, 'tis the gay sunny

prime, But affection is warmest when these fade


When we see the first charm of our youth pass us

- by, Like a leaf on the stream, that will never re

turn; When our cup, which had sparkled with pleasure

so high, Now tastes of the other, the dark-flowing urn; Then, then is the moment affection can sway

With a depth and a tenderness joy never I knew ; Love, nursed among pleasures, is faithless as they, But the love, born of Sorrow, like Sorrow is


Qi climes full of sunshine, though splendid their


Yet faint is the odour the flow'rs shed about ; 'Tis the clouds and the mist of our own weeping

skies, That call their fulı spirit of fragrancy out. So the wild glow of passion may kindle from

mirth, But 'tis only in grief true affection appears ; To the magic of smiles it may first owe its birth, But the soul of its sweetness is drawn out by



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;

Our right to this fine air (the «Lochabers of the Scotch) will, 1 fear, be disputed; but, as it has been long connected with Irish words, and is considently claimed for us by Mr. Bunting and others, I thought I should not be authorized in leaving it out of this collection.

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 path-ways of light he was tempted

to roam, Be it Bliss to remiember that thou wert the star That arose on his darkness, and guided hiin


From thee and thy innocent beauty first came
The reavelings, that taught him true love to

adore, To feel the bright presence, and turn him with

shame From the idols he darkly had knelt to before. O’er the waves of a life, long benighted and

wild, Thou can'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


And though sometimes the shade of past folly

would rise, And though 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’daway. As the Priests of the Sun when their altar grew

. dim, As the 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



Air-Castle Tirowen

REMEMBER thee! yes, while there's life in this

heart; It snall never forget thee, all lorn as thou art ; More dear in thy sorrow, thy gloom and thy

showers, Than the rest of the world in their sunniest hours

Wert thou all that I wish thee, great, glorious,

and free, First flower of the earth, and first gem of the


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