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I'm sure the lieutenant's a horrible bear:

And I-am left all alone!

Whenever we go on the Downs for a ride, –

Where is she gone, where is she gone?
She looks for another to trot by her side :

And I-am left all alone!
And whenever I take her down stairs from a ball,
She nods to some puppy to put on her shawl :
I'm a peaceable man, and I don't like a brawl;-

Where is she gone, where is she gone?
But I would give a trifle to horsewhip them all;

And I-am left all alone!

She tells me her mother belongs to the sect,--

Where is she gone, where is she gone ?
Which holds that all waltzing is quite incorrect:

And I-am left all alone!'
But a fire's in my heart, and a fire's in my brain,
When she waltzes away with Sir Phelim O'Shane;
I don't think I ever can ask her again :

Where is she gone, where is she gone ? And, Lord ! since the summer she's grown very

plain; And I-am left all alone!

v. She said that she liked me a twelvemonth ago;

Where is she gone, where is she gone ?

And how should I guess that she'd torture me so ?

And I-am left all alone!
Some day she'll find out it was not very wise
To laugh at the breath of a true lover's sighs;
After all, Fanny Myrtle is not such a prize:

Where is she gone, where is she gone ?-
Louisa Dalrymple has exquisite eyes;

And I'll be no longer alone!



FATHER—Father-I confess

Here he kneeled and sighed,
When the moon's soft loveliness

Slept on turf and tide.
In my ear the prayer he prayed

Seems to echo yet;
But the answer that I made-
Father-I forget!

Ora pro me!


Father-Father-I confess

Precious gifts he brought; Satin sandal, silken dress;

Richer ne'er were wrought; Gems that make the daylight dim,

Plumes in gay gold set;But the gaud I gave to himFather-I forget!

Ora pro me!

Father-Father-I confess-

He's my beauty's thrall,
In the lonely wilderness,

In the festive hall;
All his dreams are aye of me,

Since our young hearts met; What my own may sometimes beFather—I forget!

Ora pro me!


1. FARE thee well, love,-fare thee well!

From the world I pass away, Where the brightest things that dwell

All deceive, and all decay; Cheerfully I fall asleep,

As by some mysterious spell; Yet I weep, to see thee weep;

Fare thee well, love,--fare thee well !


Tell of me, love, tell of me!

Not amid the heartless throng; Not where Passion bends the knee,-

Not where Pleasure trills the song; But when some most cherished one

By your side at eve shall be, Ere your twilight tales are done,

Tell of me, love,-tell of me!

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