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Night closd around the conqueror's way,
Nay tell me not, dear! that the goblet drowns,
No, not more welcome the fairy numbers, -
No, ne'er did the wave in its element steep,
Not many months have now been dream'd away,
Never mind how the pedagogue proses,

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O LADY fair, where art thou roaming?
Oh had I leasure to sigh and mourn, .
Qur white sail caught the ev'ning ray,
One morn a Peri at the gate,
One bumper at parting, though many,
Oh! why should the girl of my soul be in tears,
Oh! remember the time in La Maucha's shades,
Oh! nothing in life can sadden us,
Oh! breathe not his name, let it sleep in the shade,
Oh! think not my spirits are always as light,
Oh : baste and leave this sacred isle,
Oh! weep for the hour,
Oh! blame not the bard if he fly to the bow'rs, .
Oh ! 'tis sweet to think, that where'er we rove, .
Ob! the days are gone, when beauty bright,
Oh ! bad we some bright little isle of our own,
Oh! doubt me not-the season, .
Oh where's the slave so lowly,
Oh for the swords of former time!

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PAIN and sorrow shall vanish before us, •

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ROBERT Rumble, a poet of lyric renown,
Remember the glories of Brien the brave,
Remember thee! yes, while there's life in this heart,
Rich and rare were the gems she wore,

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SWEET seducer ever suriling,
Sweetest love, I'll not forget thee,
See you, beneath yon cloud so dark,
Spirit of joy! thy altar lies, .
Says Sammy, the tailor, to me,
Silent, Oh Moyle ! be the roar of thy water,
Sublime was the warning which liberty spoke,
She is far from the land, where her young hero sleeps,

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TAKE back the sigh, thy lips of art,
'Twas a new feeling, something more,

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The wreath you wove, the wreath you wove,
The beam of morning, trembling,
Thou hast sent me a flowery band,
The young rose which I gave thee,
Tho' sacred the tie that our country entwineth,
The song that lightens the languid way,
To sigh, yet feel no pain,
The scene was more beautiful far to my eye,
Tell me not of joys above,
There's a bower of roses by Bendemeer's stream,
There's a bliss beyond all that the minstrel has told,
The harp that once through Tara's halls,
Though the last glimpse of Erin with sorrow I see, .
There is not in the wide world a valley so sweet,
Take back the virgin page,
Thro' grief and thro' danger, thy smile hath cheerd,
'Tis believed that this harp which I now wake for thee,
Though dark are our sorrows, to-day we'll forget them,
This life is all chequered with pleasures and woes,
Through Erin's isle,
'Tis the last rose of summer,
The young May moon is beaming, love,
The minstrel boy to the war is gone,
The valley lay smiling before me,
The time I've lost in wooing,
'Tis gone, and for ever, the light we see breaking,
They made her a grave, too cold and damp,
Thy song has taught my heart to feel,
To Ladies' eyes a round, boy,
'Twas in the summer time, so sweet,

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WHEN Time, who steals our years away,
When 'midst the gay I meet,
When Leila touched the lute,
When Charles was deceiv'd by the maid be lov'd,
When life looks lone and dreary,
Will you come to the bower,
Where is the nymph, whose azure eye!
Why does azure deck the sky?
When he who adores thee, has left but his name,
When in death I shall calm recline,
We may roam through this world, like a child at a feast,
While gazing on the moon's light,
When day-light was yet sleeping under the billow,
When through life unblest we rove,

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Weep on, weep on, your hour is past, •
What the bee is to the flow'ret,
When first I met thee warm and young,
When cold in the earth lies the friend thou hast loved,
While bistory's muse the memorial was keeping,
When wearied wretches sink to sleep,
When fresbly blows the northern gale,
When I lov'd you, I can't but allow,
Whene'er I see those smiling eyes,
Well-peace to thy heart, though another's it be,
Wreath the bowl, .

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YOUNG Love found a dial once in a dark shade,
Young Love lived once in a humble shed,
You remember Ellen, our hamlet's pride, •

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SACRED SONGS.

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AS down in the sunless retreats of the ocean,
Almighty God, when round thy shrine,
Arrayed in clouds of golden light,
But wbo shall see the glorious day,
Come not, O Lord ! in the dread robe of splendour,
Fall'n is thy throne, Oh! Israel !
Go, let me weep ! there's bliss in tears,
Hush'd is the voice of Judah's mirth, :
Oh ! thou who dry'st the mourner's tear,
Ob fair! Oh purest! be thou the dove,
Sound the loud timbrel o'er Egypt's dark sea, .
This world is all a fleeting show,
Thou art, Oh God! the life and light, •
The bird let loose in eastern skies,
The turf shall be thy fragrant shrine,
Weep not for those, whom the veil of the tomb,
Were not the sinful Mary's tears,
Who is the maid my spirit seeks,

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NATIONAL AIRS.

A TEMPLE to Friendship, said Laura, enchanted,
All that's bright must fade, -
Dost thou remember that place so lonely,
Fare thee well, thou lovely one, •
Flow on, thou shining river,

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Hark, the vesper hymn is stealing,
Oh, come to me when day-light sets,
Oft in the stilly night,
Reason, and Folly, and Beauty, they say,
So warmly we met, and so fondly we parted,
Should fond hopes e'er forsake thee,
Those ev'ning bells, those ev'ning bells,
They may rail at this life-from the time I began it,

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MOORE'S

MELODIES.

A CANADIAN BOAT SONG.

WRITTEN ON THE RIVER ST. LAWRENCE.*

Et remigem cantus hortatur.-Quintilian.

FAINTLY as tolls the evening chime,
Our voices keep tune, and our oars keep time.

* I wrote these words to an air which our boatmen sang to us very frequently. The wind was so unfavourable, that they were obliged to row all the way, and we were five days in descending the river from Kingston to Montreal, exposed to an intense sun during the day, and at night forced to take shelter from the dews in any miserable hut upon the banks that would receive us. But the magnificent scenery of the St. Lawrence repays all these difficulties.

Our Voyageurs had good voices, and sung perfectly in tune together. The original words of the air, to which I adapted these stanzas, appeared to be a long incoherent story, of which I could understand but little, from the barbarous pronunciation of the Canadians. It begins

B

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