. . . 46 . On the green banks of Shannon, &c. . . 139 O! say, can you see, by the dawn's, &c. . 76 O swiftly glides the bonny boat .... 124 O think on my fate, once I freedom enjoy'd 26 O turn those eyes on me . . . . . . 28 O where, tell ine where is your, &c. .. 32 Poor orphan am ), scarcely turn’d, &c. . 9 Return, enraptur'd hours ..... 151 Roy's wife of Aldivalloch...... Said a smile to a tear . . . . . . 142 Scots wha hae wi' Wallace bled . . . 61 Shall all the hues of morn decay . . . 114 Should auld acquaintance be forgot . . . 54 Should auld acquaintance be forgot .. 65 Smile again, my bonnie lassie . . . . 30 Stay, sweet enchanter of the grove . . 112 The moon had climb'd the highest hill 52 The lawland lads think they are fine . . 75 The turf shall be my fragrant shrine . 90 The sun-sets at night, and the stars, &c. . 101 The shepherds call me little Sue . . . 104 The sea was calm, the sky serene . . . 111 The last, the fatal hour is conie. .. . 130 The soldier to the war has gone . . . The scene was more beautiful far, &c The sky with clouds was overcast .. The trump of war is sounding, love . . 27 The water roll'd, the water swellid . . The wealthy fooi, with gold in store .. 132 Thou art gone from thy lover . . . . 119 'Tis the last rose of summer ..... Toll not the bell of death for me. ... 91 To sigh, yet feel 10 pain : .... . 'Twas on the morn of sweet May day . 'Twas at the town of nate Clogheen. 'Twas past meridian, half past four . . . 113 Wake, Columbia ! wake the lyre .44 Wake, maid of Lorn, the moments fly . 31 Were not the sinful Mary's tears .. 11 What's this dull town to me? . . . . 159 What is love? an idle passion . . . . 74 When wild war's deadly blast was o'er. 69 When William Tell was doom'd to die . 108 When night had thrown her mantle, &c. 132 When the low heart is sad and deep . . 133 When Steerwell heard me first impart .. . 152 When absent from her my soul holds, &c. Yankee doodle is the tune . . . . . . 57 | Ye banks and braes o' bonny Doon . . 40 Ye banks and braes, and streams around . 49 Ye gentlemen, and ladies fair . New Englanu SONGSTER. THE FISHERMAN'S ORPHAN. Poor Orphan am I, scarcely turn'd of iwelve years, And Mary a beggms must go : On the rude billows toss'd to and fro- My mother, heart-broken, to heaven is gone, And left her poor Mary bebind; And now through this wide world I wander forlorn, To beg of the good and the kind. Though thinly I'm clad, and with cold I now shiver, Yet warm is my heart, and 'twill bless the dear giver; No friend has poor Mary, from hunger to save, Her father and mother lie low in the grave. The sky is my covering, the cold earth my bed, As I lay down to slumber and weep, While the winds kindly lull me to sleep: Oli! had I but wealth, what a tomb would I rear, To parents so tender and good; But my father lies deep in the flood. FALIN IS THY THRONE! AIR---Martini. Fall'n is thy throne, oh Israel ! Silence is o'er thy plains; Thy dwellings all lie desolate, Thy children weep in chains. On Elin's barren shore ? Now lights thy path no more. Once, she was all thy own; Her love thy fajrest heritage, Her power thy glory's throne. Thy jong lov’d olive tree; For other Gods than thee? Then pass'd her glory's day, Like heath, that, in the wilderness, The wild wind whirls away Silent and waste her bowers, Where once the mighty trod, And sunk those guilty towers, Where Baal reign'd as God! |