far away, by night and day, I toil'd to win a golden treasure; and golden gains repaid my pains in fair and shining measure. I sought again my native land, thy father welcomed me, love; I poured my gold into his hand, and my guerdon found in thee, love!... Sing Gilla ma chree, sit down by me, we now are joined, and ne'er shall sever; this hearth's our own, our hearts are one, and peace is ours for ever! 76.-OLD TIMES.-Griffin. Old times! old times! the gay old times! when I was young and free, And sure the land is nothing changed-the birds are singing still; Oh, come again, ye merry times! sweet, sunny, fresh, and calm; 77.-HARK! HARK! THE SOFT BUGLE.-Grifin. Hark! hark! the soft bugle sounds over the wood, Till faint, and more faint, in the far solitude, It dies on the portals of heaven! But Echo springs up from her home in the rock, And sends the gay challenge, with shadowy mock, Oh, thus let my love, like a sound of delight, While hope, with her warm light, thy glancing eye fills, Though the sound of his love has died over the hills, 78.-'TIS FOLLY'S SHOP, WHO'LL BUY?-Moore. Who'll buy?—'tis Folly's shop, who'll buy?—we've toys to suit all ranks and ages; Besides our usual fools' supply, we've lots of playthings, too, for sages. Gay caps we here of foolscap make, for bards to wear in dog-day weather; caper. For aldermen we've dials true, that tell no hour but that of dinner; For courtly parsons sermons new, that suit alike both saint and sinner. No time we've now to name our terms, but, whatsoe'er the whims that seize you, This oldest of all mortal firms, Folly and Co., will try to please you. Or, should you wish a darker hue of goods than we can recommend you, Why then (as we with lawyers do) to Knavery's shop next door we'll send you. 79.-WHO'LL BUY MY LOVE-KNOTS ?-Moore. 'Hymen, late, his love-knots selling, called at many a maiden's dwelling; none could doubt, who saw or knew them, Hymen's call was welcome to them. "Who'll buy my love-knots? Who'll buy my love-knots ?" Soon as that sweet cry resounded, how his baskets were surrounded! 2 Maids, who now first dreamt of trying these gay knots of Hymen's tying; dames, who long had sat to watch him passing by, but ne'er could catch him ;—“ Who'll buy my love-knots? Who'll buy my love-knots ?"—all at that sweet cry assembled; some laugh'd, some blush'd, and others trembled. "Here are knots," said Hymen, taking some loose flowers, "of Love's own making; here are gold ones-you may trust 'em"-(these, of course, found ready custom). "Come, buy my love-knots! Come, buy my love-knots! Some are labell'd 'Knots to tie men-Love the makerBought of Hymen."" 4 Scarce their bargains were completed, when the nymphs all cried, "We're cheated! See these flowers-they're drooping sadly; this gold-knot, too, ties but badly-Who'd buy such love-knots? Who'd buy such love-knots? Even this tie, with Love's name round it— -all a sham-he never bound it." 5 Love, who saw the whole proceeding, would have laugh'd, but for good-breeding; while old Hymen, who was used to cries like that these dames gave loose to-"Take back our love-knots! Take back our love-knots!" coolly said, "There's no returning wares on Hymen's hands-Good morning." 80.-THE JOURNEY ONWARDS.-Moore. As slow our ship her foamy track against the wind was cleaving, And when in other climes, we meet some isle or vale enchanting, As travellers oft look back at eve when eastward darkly going, 81.-OFT, IN THE STILLY NIGHT.-Moore. 1 Oft, in the stilly night, ere Slumber's chain has bound me, fond Memory brings the light of other days around me: the smiles, the tears, of boyhood's years; the words of love then spoken; the eyes that shone,— now dimm'd and gone; the cheerful hearts,- -now broken!... Thus, in the stilly night, ere Slumber's chain hath bound me, sad Memory brings the light of other days around me. 2 When I remember all the friends so link'd together, I've seen around me fall, like leaves in wintry weather, I feel like one who treads alone some banquet-hall deserted,-whose lights are fled, whose garlands dead, and all but he departed!... Thus, in the stilly night, ere Slumber's chain has bound me, sad Memory brings the light of other days around me. 82.-MY MOPSA IS LITTLE.-Moore. My Mopsa is little, my Mopsa is brown, But her cheek is as smooth as the peach's soft down, Her voice hath a music that dwells on the ear, Her ringlets, so curly, are Cupid's own net, And her lips, oh! their sweetness I ne'er shall forget- But 'tis not her beauty that charms me alone, 83.-CANADIAN BOAT-SONG.-Moore. 2 Faintly as tolls the evening chime, our voices keep tune and our oars keep time. Soon as the woods on shore look dim, we'll sing at St. Ann's our parting hymn. Row, brothers, row, the stream runs fast, the Rapids are near, and the daylight's past. Why should we yet our sail unfurl? There is not a breath the blue wave to curl; but when the wind blows off the shore, oh! sweetly we'll rest our weary oar. Blow, breezes, blow, the stream runs fast, the Rapids are near, and the daylight's past. 3 Utawas' tide! this trembling moon shall see us float over thy surges soon. of this green isle! hear our prayers, oh, grant us cool heavens and favour. ing airs. Blow, breezes, blow, the stream runs fast, the Rapids are near, and the daylight's past. N Saint 84.-THE ANGEL'S WHISPER.-Lover. A baby was sleeping; its mother was weeping, for her husband was far on the wild raging sea; and the tempest was swelling round the fisherman's dwelling, as she cried, "Dermot, darling, oh! come back to me." 2 Her beads while she numbered, the baby still slumbered, and smiled in her face, as she bended her knee; "Oh! bless'd be that warning, my child, thy sleep adorning; for I know that the angels are whispering with thee! 3 And while they are keeping bright watch o'er thy sleeping, oh, pray to them softly, my baby, with me, and say thou wouldst rather they'd watch o'er thy father! for I know that the angels are whispering with thee!" 4 The dawn of the morning saw Dermot returning, and the wife wept with joy her babe's father to see; and closely caressing her child, with a blessing, said, “I knew that the angels were whispering with thee." 85.-MY MOTHER DEAR.-Lover. There was a place in childhood that I remember well, When doubt and danger weigh'd me down-then, pleading, all for me, 86.-A SIGH FOR KNOCKMANY.-Carleton. Take, proud ambition, take thy fill of pleasures won through toil or crime; Go, learning, climb thy rugged hill, and give thy name to future time: Philosophy, be keen to see whate'er is just, or false, or vain, Take each thy meed, but, oh! give me to range my mountain glens again. Pure was the breeze that fann'd my cheek, as o'er Knockmany's brow I went; When every lonely dell could speak in airy music, vision sent: False world! I hate thy cares and thee, I hate the treacherous haunts of men; Give back my early heart to me, give back to me my mountain glen. |