O why should fate sic pleasure have, This warld's wealth when I think on, Its pride, and a' the lave o't; Fie, fie on silly coward man, That he should be the slave o't. Her een sae bonnie blue, betray O wha can prudence think upon, O why should fate, &'c. How blest the humble cottar's fate! Can never make him eerie. O why should fate, &c. LXXX. WHERE IS MY OWEN ? Where is my Owen, where is my true love? O saw ye the shepherd that's dearest to me? Where art thou wandering? come, haste to my view, love! Long, long does he tarry, ah! surely some new love Fain would I think so-sad when we parted Heavens, who comes yonder? ah! 'tis my Owen, Now, foolish tears, wherefore, why thus are ye flowing, LXXXI. A TYROLESE SONG OF LIBERTY. * Merrily every bosom boundeth, 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, Every joy the land surroundeth, Merrily, oh! merrily, oh! * This song is adapted to the Tyrolese national air, the words by Thomas Moore, Esq. Wearily every bosom pineth, Where the bond of slavery twineth, Wearily, oh! wearily, oh! There the warrior's dart Hath no fleetness, There the maiden's heart Hath no sweetness, Every flower of life declineth, Cheerily then from hill and valley, Cheerily, oh! cheerily, oh! Like your native fountains sally, Cheerily, oh! cheerily, oh! If a glorious death Won by bravery, Sweeter be than breath Sigh'd in slavery, Round the flag of freedom rally, Cheerily, oh! cheerily, oh! LXXXII. WHY SO SAD IS MY HEART? AIR.-"My native Caledonia." Why so sad is my heart, thus to leave thee alane? Then, think na, dear maid, tho' the sea between us be, And tho' fair be the scenes of old Erin's green Isle, Dearest maid, then, shouldst thou be as constant to me, As thy lover has vow'd he will aye be to thee, Wi' what joy will I return, when I've been a while awa, To my love and my native Caledonia. Ꮓ |