Bid her not shed one tear of sorrow To sully a heart so brilliant and light; But balmy drops of the red grape borrow, To bathe the relic from morn till night. II. When the light of my song is o'er, Then take my harp to your ancient hall; Hang it up at that friendly door, Where weary travellers love to call.* Oh! let one thought of its master waken III. Keep this cup, which is now o'erflowing, On lips that beauty hath seldom blest! To her he adores shall bathe its brim, "In every house was one or two harps, free to all travellers, who were the more caressed the more they excelled in music."-O'HALLORAN. Then, then my spirit around shall hover, HOW OFT HAS THE BENSHEE CRIED. AIR.-The Dear Black Maid. I. How oft has the Benshee cried! Bright links that Glory wove, Sweet bonds, entwined by Love! Peace to each manly soul that sleepeth! Rest to each faithful eye that weepeth! Long may the fair and brave Sigh o'er the hero's grave. II. We're fallen upon gloomy days,* * I have endeavoured here, without losing that Irish character which it is my object to preserve throughout this work, to allude to the sad and ominous fatality by which England has been deprived of so many great and good men at a moment when she most requires all the aids of talent and integrity. Every bright name, that shed Light o'er the land, is fled. Dark falls the tear of him who mourneth But brightly flows the tear Wept o'er a hero's bier! III. Oh! quench'd are our beacon-lights- Thou, on whose burning tongue † Truth, peace and freedom hung! Both mute—but long as valour shineth, Or mercy's soul at war repineth, So long shall ERIN'S pride Tell how they lived and died. * This designation, which has been applied to Lord Nelson before, is the title given to a celebrated Irish Hero, in a Poem by O'Gnive, the bard of O'Niel, which is quoted in the "Philosophical Survey of the South of Ireland." Page 433. of the hundred fights, sleep in thy grass-grown tomb, and upbraid not our defeats with thy victories! + Fox, "ultimus Romanorum." "Con, WE MAY ROAM THROUGH THIS WORLD. AIR.-Garyone. I. We may roam through this world like a child at a feast, For sensitive hearts and for sun-bright eyes. you roam, When a cup to the smile of dear woman goes round, Oh! remember the smile which adorns her at home. II. In ENGLAND, the garden of beauty is kept By a dragon of prudery, placed within call; But so oft this unamiable dragon has slept, That the garden's but carelessly watch'd after all. Oh! they want the wild sweet briery fence, Which round the flowers of ERIN dwells, Then remember, wherever your goblet is crown'd, you roam, When a cup to the smile of dear woman goes round, Oh! remember the smile which adorns her at home. III. In FRANCE, when the heart of a woman sets sail, But just pilots her off, and then bids her good-bye! While the daughters of ERIN keep the boy Ever smiling beside his faithful oar, Through billows of woe and beams of joy The same as he look'd when he left the shore. Then remember, wherever your goblet is crown'd, Through this world whether eastward or westward you roam, When a cup to the smile of dear woman goes round, Oh! remember the smile which adorns her at home. |