And left, one morning early,

Loch Lomond Ben,

And the willow glen,

And Jean, who 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, who loved him dearly.

THE SHAMROCK.

AIR-Alley Croker.

THROUGH Erin's isle,
To sport a while,

As Love and Valour wander'd,.
With Wit, the sprite,

Whose quiver bright

A thousand arrows squander'd;
Where'er they pass,

A tripple grass

Shoots up, with dew-drops streaming,

As softly green,
As emeralds, seen

Through purest crystal gleaming. Oh! the shamrock-the green, immor tal shamrock!

Chosen leaf

Of bard and chief,

Old Erin's native shamrock!

Says Valour, "See!
They spring for me,
Those leafy gems of morning!"
Says Love," No, no,
For me they grow,
My fragrant path adorning !"

But Wit perceives

The triple leaves,

And cries, "Oh! do not sever
A type, that blends

Three godlike friends-
Love, Valour, Wit, for ever!"
Oh! the shamrock, the green, immor
tal shamrock.

Chosen leaf

Of bard and chief,

Old Erin's native shamrock!

THE FIREMAN'S BARCAROLE.

AIR-The Barcarole in Massaniello. THE fireman's task is ever glorious— His motives just-his actions brave; And, midst the elements victorious, His only thoughts to dare and save. And when again the State-house bell

Shall ring alarm.

And sure the point of danger tell,
Unfearing harm,

Will fly to save, nor death nor danger fear.

When high and bright the fierce fire

rages,

His fear-proof heart sustains him there;

No gold rewards-no hireling wages Impels him hardship's path to dare. And when again, &c.

No more, no more the fire is burning, The danger's past, his task is done, Each fireman, to his home returning, Enjoys the rest his toil hath won. And when again, &c

RICH AND RARE WERE THE GEMS.

AIR-The Summer is coming.

RICH and rare were the gems she wore, And a bright gold ring on her wand she bore;

But, oh! her beauty was far beyond Her sparkling gems and snow-white wand.

"Lady! dost thou not fear to stray, So lone and lovely, through this bleak way?

Are Erin's sons so good or so cold, As not to be tempted by woman or gold"

"Sir Knight, I feel not the least alarm; No son of Erin will offer me harm: For though they love women and golden store,

Sir Knight, they love honour and virtue more."

On she went, and her maiden smile
In safety lighted her round the green

isle;

And bless'd for ever is she who relied

Upon Erin's honour, and Erin's pride.

I'D MOURN THE HOPES.

AIR-The Rose Tree.

I'D mourn the hopes that leave me,
If thy smiles had left me too;
I'd weep when friends deceive me,
Hadst thou been, like them, untrue,

But while I've thee before me,
With heart so warm, and eyes so
bright,

No clouds can linger o'er me,
That smile turns them all to light.

'Tis not in fate to harm me,

While fate leaves thy love to me;
"Tis not in joy to charm me,
Unless joy be shared with thee.

One minute's dream about thee
Were worth a long and endless year

Of waking bliss without thee,
My own love, my only dear!

And though the hope be gone, love,
That long sparkled o'er our way,

Oh! we shall journey on love,
More safely without its ray.