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I once had a lover, thus ran the sweet numbers, Now doom'd far from me and his country to mourn,

Perhaps in the cold bed of death e'en he slumbers

My soul can'st thou think he will ever return? Yes he shall for he lives and his past woes redressing,

His country will hail him with smiles and caressing, Then lock'd in thy arms, he'll pronounce her his blessing,

That country which wrong'd him, his ERIN GO BRAGH.

As a lamb he was meek, as a dove he was tender, And form'd was his bosom for friendship and

love,

But call'd by his country, still swift to defend her, Undaunted and swift as the Eagle he'd move. That ardor of passion for me which he pleaded, By what female breast would it have been unheeded, The love of his country alone could exceed it.

For still his first wish was for ERIN GO BRAGH.

This harp on whose strings oft he's roused each emotion,

Unrival'd the soft tones of feeling to draw,

He left me the pledge of his heart's true devotion, And bade me oft strike it to Erin go Bragh. O'er it oft I have dream'd that he sat in this bower, And touch'd the sad tale of his exile with power, Each soul glowing Patriot the strains did devour, Struck full to the numbers of ERIN GO BRAGH.

But cease ye vain dreams, for at morn still I lose him,

And cease my fond hopes for my grief must re

turn.

No they must not, he cried, and rush'd to her bo

som,

Your exile's return'd to his Erin again.

Now fall'n are the oppressors who sought to destroy me,

Love, friendship, and Erin shall henceforth employ me

'Tis himself, she exclaim'd, oh! ye powers ye o'erjoy me,

Then bless'd be my country, bless'd ERIN GO BRAGH.

BELIEVE ME.

AIR-" My lodging is on the cold ground."

BELIEVE me, if all those endearing young charms Which I gaze on so fondly to day,

Were to change by to-morrow, and fleet in my

arms,

Like fairy gifts fading away;

Thou wouldst still be ador'd as this moment thou art,

Let thy loveliness fade as it will;

And around the dear ruin, each wish of my heart, Would entwine itself verdantly still.

It is not while beauty and youth are thine own,
And thy cheeks unprofan'd by a tear,

That the fervour and faith of a soul can be known,
To which time will but make thee more dear.
Oh! the heart that has truly lov'd never forgets,
But as truly loves on to the close;

As the sun-flower turns on her god when he sets, The same look which she turn'd when he rose.

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LOVE'S YOUNG DREAM.

AIR-"The old Woman."

OH! the days are gone, when beauty bright
My heart's chain wove ;

When my dream of life from morn till night,
Was love, still love!

New hope may bloom,

And days may come,

Of milder, calmer beam;
But there's nothing half so sweet in life,
As love's young dream!
Oh! there's nothing half so sweet in life,
As love's young dream!

Though the bard to a purer fame may soar,
When wild youth's past;

Though he win the wise, who frown'd before,
To smile at last ;

He'll never meet

A joy so sweet

In all his noon of fame,

As when first he sung to woman's ear
His soul-felt flame,

And at every close, she blush'd to hear
The one lov'd name!

Oh! that hallow'd form is ne'er forgot,
Which first love trac'd;

Still it lingering haunts the greenest spot
On memory's waste!

'Twas odour fled

As soon as shed,

'Twas morning's winged dream! "Twas a light that ne'er can shine again On life's dull stream!

Oh! 'twas light, that ne'er can shine again
On life'e dull stream.

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TYROLESE SONG OF LIBERTY.

MERRILY every bosom boundeth,

Merrily oh! merrily oh!

Where the scng of freedom soundeth,

Merrily oh! merrily oh!

Where the song of freedom soundeth,

Merrily oh! merrily oh!

There the warrior's arms

Shed more splendour;

There the maiden's charms
Shine more tender

Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, mer

Ev'ry joy the land surroundeth,

Merrily oh merrily oh!

rily oh!

Merrily oh! merrily oh

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Round the flag of freedom rally,

Cheerily oh! cheerily oh

Cheerily, cheerily, &c.

A CANADIAN BOAT SONG.

Written on the river St. Lawrence.

FAINTLY as tolls the evening chime,
Our voices keep tune, and our oars keep time.
Soon as the woods on shore look dim,
We'll sing at St. Ann's our parting hymn!
Row, brothers, row, the stream runs fast,
The rapids are near, and the daylight's past.
Why should we yet our sail unfurl?

There is not a breath the blue wave to curl ;
But when the wind blows off the shore,
Oh, sweetly we'll rest our weary oar.

Blow, breezes, blow, &c.

Utawas tide! this trembling moon
Shall see us float over thy surges soon.
Saint of this green Isle! hear our prayer,
Grant us cool heavens and favouring air!
Blow, breezes, blow, &c.

OH! WHY SHOULD THE GIRL OF MY SOUL BE IN TEARS.

OH! why should the Girl of my soul be in tears, At a meeting of rapture like this,

When the gloom of the past, and the sorrows of years,

Have been paid by a moment of bliss ?

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