BLIND MARY.

Irish Melody, to Moore's 'In the Morning of Life;' the Poetry by Thomas Davis, published in Duffy's Spirit of the Nation.'

There flows from her spi-rit such love and delight. That the face of Blind Ma-ry is

ra-diant with light, As the gleam from a home-stead thro' dark - ness will show, Or the

moon glim-mer soft thro' the fast fall-ing snow. Yet there's a keen sor-row comes o'er her at

No-body knows, nobody knows For whom in thought-ful mood I sigh;

No-body knows, nobody knows, If hush'd my song, the

from my mo-ther's fav'- rite tree, I steal her fairest half-blown rose, She poco ritard.

blows is like, is like this rose; No flow'r that blows is like, is like this rose.

The Poetry by G. Soane, A.B; arranged to the air 'Giuro ainumi' in Rossini's opera of 'Semiramide.'
Published by Davidson.
Andantino.

THE THISTLE OF SCOTLAND FOR EVER, HURRAH!
Composed by Alexander D. Roche.

The En-glish may boast of their soft-scent-ed ro - ses, But, O! we have that we love

PRINCE CHARLIE'S WELCOME TO SKYE.

Old Jacobite Song, as sung by Mr. Wilson.

come ow'r the main, Wi' the wind for their way, and the cor-rie for their hame, And

GRUSS AN DEN BRUDER-DOES MY BROTHER THINK OF ME. The Poetry translated from the German of Prince Ernest, by W. Ball; the Music by H.R.H. Prince Albert.-Published by Lonsdale.

Lento.

4

Have I then the lyre for-sa-ken, Which so oft my hours would share? All its

call its ear-liest treasures, And thy dear, thy na-tive home, And thy dear, thy native home.

BOYS, WHEN I PLAY, CRY, O CRIMINI!
Composed by W. Shield.

I'm in talk a pendant musical,

In fine terms I lug intrusical;
Slap Bravura's alt, the rage about
Haydn, Mara, Opera stage, about;
Oratorios,

Cramer's florios,
Things at jubilee ;
Neither he nor she
Die at Syren's note;
Tiny throat
Petticoat-

This is amateur high musical.

Toodle, roodle, &c.

E

C

IF MY SONG CAN FONDLY MOVE THEE.
The Poetry by David Thomson; the Music by Mozart.

move; All its sooth-ing notes were given, As the gentle voice of love, the voice of

love! Would you Hope's bright lan-guage bor-row, What can breathe its joys so well?

min - gle there; must min-gle, must min-gle, must min-gle;

Music, sure, must