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 APR 15 1936 
 
 ■U 
 
 suitor 
 
 COLLECTION 
 
 FOPUZ.AR SONGS. 
 
 \ 
 
 
 PHILADELPHIA r 
 
 D PUBLISHED BY WILLIAM W. WEEKS 
 
 120, Locust Street. 
 
 1826. 
 
I 
 
 MINSTREL. 
 
 THE MINSTREL BOY. 
 
 I he minstrel-boy to the war is gone. 
 
 In the ranks of death you'll find linn : 
 Hi^ fath< r's sword he has gilded on, 
 
 And his wild harp slung behind him. 
 '• Land of song ! M said the warrior bard, 
 
 *' Though all the world betrays thee, 
 One sword, at hast, thy rights shall 
 
 One faithful harp shall praise thee." 
 The minstrel fell ! but the foeman's chain 
 
 Could not bring his proud soul tinder ; 
 The harp he lov'd ne'ei spoke again, 
 
 Fer he tore its chords asund. r ; 
 And said, " No chain-, shall sully thee, 
 
 Thou soul of love and braver; ! 
 l'hy songs were made for the pure andfref 
 ad in slavery." 
 
MINSTREL. 
 
 THE ROSE BUD. 
 
 When the rose-hud of summer, its beauty bestowing', 
 On winter's rude hanks all its sweetness shall pour, 
 
 And the sunshine of day in night's darkness be glow- 
 O ! then, dearest Ellen, I'll love you no more, [ing, 
 
 When of hope the last spark, which thy smile lored 
 to cherish, 
 In my bosom shall die, and its splendour be o'er, 
 Atm the pulse of that heart which adores you shall pe- 
 rish, 
 Oh ! then, dearest Ellen, I'll love you no more. 
 
 T. Moore. 
 
 IN MY COTTAGE NEAR A WOOD. 
 J N my cottage near a wood, 
 
 Love and Rosa now are mine ; 
 Rosa ever fair and good, 
 
 Charm me with those smiles of thine. 
 Rosa, partner of my life, 
 
 Thee alone my heart shall prize ; 
 Thou, the tender friend and wife— 
 
 Ah ! too swift life's current Mies-! 
 
 Linger yet, ye moments stay : 
 
 Why so rapid is your wing ? 
 Whither would ye haste awaj ? 
 
 Stay, a iid hear my Rosa sing. 
 Love and you still bless my cot, 
 
 Fortune's frowns arc fur our good ; 
 "\-\y Ave live, by pride forgot, 
 
 tn our cottage near a wood. Moreland, 
 
MINSTREL. 
 
 UK WAS FAMED. 
 II K was famed for deeds of arms, 
 She a maid of envied charms ; 
 Now to him her love imparts, 
 One puit flame pervades both hearts : 
 Honour calls him to the field, 
 Love to conquest now must ; 
 Swt et maid ! he cries, again I'll con 
 • When the glad trumpet sounds a notary. 
 Rattle now with fury glows ! 
 Hostile blood in torrents Hows ! 
 His duty tells him to depart, 
 Sh. pressed the hero to her heart. 
 And now the trumpet sounds to arm » ! 
 And now the clash of war's alarms .' 
 Sweet maid ! he cries airaiii I'll come to thee, 
 When the glad trumpet sounds a victory. 
 He with love and conquest burns, 
 Both subdue his mind by turns ; 
 Death the soldier now enthralls ! 
 With his wounds the hero falls ! 
 She, disdaining war's alarms, 
 Rush'd and caught him in her arms ! 
 O death '. he cried, thou'rt welcome now to me 
 For. hark ! the glad trumpet sounds a victory. 
 
 HAIL LIBERTY. 
 Hail Liberty, supreme delight, 
 
 Thou idol of the mind! 
 O'er . v", -y cK a xt< nd thy light, 
 To regions iraconnn'd, 
 
MINSTREL. 
 
 The virtuous and the just and brave, 
 
 Exist along with thee ! 
 Nature ne'er meant to form a slave, 
 Her birth-right's Liberty. 
 Then let the world in one great band 
 
 Of glorious unity, 
 Drive despotism from the land, 
 Or die for Liberty ! 
 
 The virtuous, See. 
 Though all the tyrants in the world 
 
 Do dare to crush thy fame ! 
 Her sacred banners still unf url'd, 
 Eternal be thy name. 
 
 The virtuous, &c. 
 Columbia how blest art thou, 
 
 Secure from tyrant sway, 
 Thy laws assert thy rights avow, 
 Drive despots far away. 
 
 The virtuous, 8ce. 
 
 HARRY BLUFF. 
 When a boy, Harry Bluff left his friends and his home, 
 And his dear native land o'er the ocean to roam; 
 Like a sapling he sprung, he was fair to the view, 
 He was true Yankee oak, boys the older he grew, 
 Tho' his body was weak, and his hands they were soft, 
 When the signal was given he was the first man aloft, 
 And the veteran's all cried, he'd one day lead the van* 
 In the heart of a boy was the soul of a man— 
 And he lived like a true Yankee Sailor,— 
 
MINSTREL. 
 
 When to manhood promoted and burning for fame, 
 Still in peace or in war Harry Bluff was the same; 
 
 to his love and in battle so brave, 
 That the myrtle and laurel entwin'd oVr his grave; 
 For his country he fell, when by victory crown'd, 
 The flag shot away, fell in tatters around, 
 And the foe thought he'd struck,but he cried out avast! 
 For Columbia's colours he nail'd to the mast, 
 And he died like a true Yankee Sailor. 
 
 DEAR MARY TO THEE. 
 
 no' the Muses ne'er smile by the light of the sun, 
 Yet they visit my cot when my labour is done, 
 And whilst on my pillow of straw I recline; 
 A wreath of sweet rlow'rtts they sportively twine; 
 But io vain the fair damsels weave chaplets for me, 
 Since my heart is devoted d. ar Mary to thee. 
 
 Dear Mary to thee, §cc. 
 I often reflect on my indigent state, 
 But reflection and reason are ever too late ; 
 TIkv till me I sigh for too beauteous a fair, 
 And fill my sad bosom with doubt and despair; 
 Then hopt kindly smiling awerts their decree, 
 For my heart is devoted dear Mary to thee. 
 
 Dear Mary to thee, &c« 
 
 When the shrill pipe and tabor proclaims the ligLt 
 
 dance, 
 With what transport I see my dear Mary advance ; 
 
3 MINSTREL. 
 
 Then siith grace she displays, while she trips 'mid the 
 
 throng, 
 L hat each shepherd with rapture to her tunes his song; 
 But by none she's beloved with such truth as by me, 
 For my heart is devoted dear Mary to thee. 
 
 Dear Mary to thee, &c. 
 
 WANDERING WILLIE. 
 
 Here awa, there awa, wandering Willie, 
 . Here awa, there awa, haud awa hame ; 
 Come to my bosom, my ain only deary, 
 
 Tell me thou bring'st me my Willie, the same. 
 Winter winds blew loud and cauld at our parting * 
 
 Fears for my Willie brought tears in my ee : 
 Welcome now simmer, and welcome my Willie, 
 
 The simmer to nature, my Willie to me. 
 
 Rest, ye wild storms, in the cave of your slumbers; 
 
 How your dread howling a lover alarms ! 
 Wauken, ye breezes ! row gently, ye billows * 
 
 And waft my dear laddie ance mair to my arms. 
 But ah ! if he's faithless, and minds nahis Nannie, 
 
 Flow still between us. thou wide roaring main ; 
 May I never see it, may I never trow it, 
 
 But, dying, believe that my Willie's my ain. 
 
 THE ECHO. 
 
 Tell me, babbling echo, why 
 You return me sigh for sigh : 
 
-MINSTREL 
 
 \\ iiilkt I of slighted love complain, 
 
 lou delight to mock my pain. 
 
 Hold intruder, night and day, 
 
 Busy u-11-tale haste away ; 
 
 Me and my cares in silence leave — 
 
 Come not near me while I grieve. 
 
 But should my swain with all his charms 
 
 Return toolasp me in his arms, 
 
 I'd call thee from thy dark retreat, 
 
 The joyful tidings to repeat. 
 
 Repeat, repeat* repeat the strain, 
 Sing it o'er ando'ei again ; 
 From mom till t ve prolong the tale, 
 Let it ring from vale to vale. 
 
 HOME, SWEET HOME. 
 'Mid pleasure and pallaces, though we may roam, 
 
 Be it ever so humble, there's no place like Home ; 
 A charm front the skies, seem to hallow us there, 
 Which seek through the world, is ne'er met with 
 elsewhere. 
 
 Home, Home, sweet sweet Home, 
 There's Home, sweet Home, 
 There's no place like Home. 
 
 An exile from Home, splendour dazzles in vain, 
 O give me my lowly, thatched Cottage again ; 
 The birds singing gaily that came at my call, 
 Give me them with the peace of mind,dearer than all. 
 Home, Home, sweet sweet Home, 
 There's no place like Home, 
 There's no place like Home. 
 
10 MINSTREL. 
 
 HUNTER'S HORN. 
 Swift from the covert flu merry pack fled, 
 When bounding, they sprang o'er valley and mead. 
 Wide spreading his antlers, erected his head, 
 
 The stag, his enemies scorning. . 
 Oh, had you but seen them through torrent and brake, 
 Each sportsman, right gaiiam, his rivals race take, 
 Twould have pleas'd beauty's ear to have heard echo 
 wake 
 
 To the hunter's horn in the morning. 
 Clear'd v,as the forrest the mountain pass'd o'er, 
 While swiftly their riders the willing steeds bore, 
 The liver roll'd deep, where the stag spurn'd the shore, 
 
 Yet own'd no timorous warning. 
 So close was he follow'd, the foam where he sprung 
 Encircled and sparkled the coursers among, 
 While the dogs of the chase the rude melody rung, 
 
 To the hunter's horn in the morning. 
 
 GO, MY LOVE. 
 
 A Rondo, sung by Miss Kelly. 
 Go, my love .' nor believe that your Ciaribel's heart, 
 
 For a moment will ask you to stay ; 
 W T hen the stern voice of honour commands us to part ; 
 
 When by duty you're summon'd away. 
 Yet that fond anxious feelings my bosom assail, 
 
 The throbs of that bosom declare ; 
 Tho' no fears for your honour or courage prevail, 
 
 Yet fears for your safety are there. Bishop. 
 
MINSTREL. 11 
 
 Cto, my love ! though my heart may bear quick, 
 When I hear qff the dangers and heat of t!i ■ fight ; 
 
 Ytr believe me, each pulse that now Rotten with fear. 
 Soon will change to the throb of delight. 
 
 FRIEND AXD PITCHER. 
 The wealthy fool, with gold in store, 
 
 Will still desire to grow riclu-r, 
 Give me but health, I ask no more, 
 My charming girl, my friend and pitcher. 
 My friend so rare, my girl so fair, 
 
 With such, what mortal can be richer, 
 Give me but these, a fig for care, 
 
 With my sweet girl, my friend aud pitcher. 
 
 From morning sun I'd never grieve. 
 
 To toil a hedger or a ditcher, 
 If that, when I come home at eve, 
 
 I might enjoy my friend and pitcher. 
 My friend, &e. 
 Though fortune ever shun my door, 
 
 I know not what can thus brwitch her ; 
 With all my heart can I be poor, 
 
 "With my sweet girl, my friend and pitcher. 
 My friend &e 
 
 OH ! REMEMBER THE TIME. 
 Oh ! remember the time in La Maneha's shad*v, 
 When our moments so blisfully flew : 
 
12 MIN'STREL. 
 
 When you call d me the flow'r of Castilian maids, 
 
 And I blush 'd to be ealPd so by you, 
 When I taught you to warble the gay Seguadille, 
 
 And to dance to the light Castanet, 
 Oh, never, dear youth, let you roam where you will, 
 
 The delight of those moments forget. 
 
 They tell me, you lovers from Erin's green Isle, 
 
 Ev'ry hour a new passion can feel ; 
 And that soon in the light of some lovelier smile, 
 
 You'll forget the poor maid of Castile. 
 But they know not how brave in the battle you are, 
 
 Or they never could think you would rove, 
 For 'tis always the spirit most gallant in war, 
 
 That is fondest and truest in love ! T. Moore. 
 
 THE DRUM. 
 Come each gallant lad, 
 
 Who for pleasure quits care, 
 To the drum, drum, drum, to, &c. 
 
 To the drum head with spirit repair. 
 Each recruiter takes his glass, 
 
 And each young soldier with his lass, 
 While the drum beats tatto, while, &c. 
 
 Retires the sweet night to pass. 
 
 Each night gaily lad— 
 
 Thus we'll merrily waste, 
 'Till the drum, drum, drum, &c. 
 
 'Tiil the dram tells us 'tis past. 
 Picket arms at dawn now shine, 
 
 And each drum ruffles down the line ; 
 
MTVSTRFX. 
 Vow the drum brats lvvelle, now, See 
 Saluting tht day divine. 
 
 Rut hark ! yonder shouts- 
 Sec the standard now alarms, 
 
 Now the drum, drum, drum, &c. 
 Now the drum heats loudly to aims. 
 
 Kill'd and wounded how they lie ! 
 Helter, skelter, see them fly, 
 
 Now the drum beats retreat, now, See. 
 We'll fire a feu-de-joy. 
 
 FAREWELL TO MY HARP. 
 
 Dear Harp of my country ! in darkness I found thee, 
 
 The cold chain of silence had hung o'er thee long, 
 When proudly my own island Harp ! I unbound thee, 
 
 And gave all thy chords to light, freedom and song I 
 The warm lay of love, and the light note of gladness, 
 
 Have w aken'd th> fondest, thy liveliest thrill ; 
 But so oft hast thou echoed the deep sigh of sadness, 
 
 That e'en in thy mirth it w ill steal from thee still. 
 
 Dear Harp of my country ! farewell to thy numbers, 
 This sweet wreath of song is the last we shall twine, 
 Co— sleep with the sunshine of fame on thy slumtx rs, 
 'Till touch'd by some hand less unw orthy than mine. 
 If the pulse of the patriot, soldier or lo\er, 
 Haw throbh'd at our lay, 'tis thy glory alone ; 
 at as the wind, passing heedlessly over; 
 
 id sweetness I wak'd was thy own ! 
 T. Moore. 
 
MINSTREL. 
 
 ROBERT BRUCE TO HIS ARMY. 
 Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled, 
 Scots wha Bruce has often led, 
 Welcome to your gory bed, 
 
 Or to glorious victory. 
 Now's the d.iy, and no%\ '» the hour ; 
 See th^ front of battle low'r ; 
 See approach proud Edward's power 
 Edward, chains, and slavery. 
 
 Wha will be a traitor knave ? 
 Wha will fill a coward's grave ? 
 Wha sae base as be a slave ? 
 
 Traitor ! Coward ! turn and flee. 
 Wha, for Scotland's king and la', 
 Freedom's sword we'll strongly draw, 
 Freeman stand, or freeman fa', 
 
 Caledonians on wi' me. 
 
 By oppressions, woes, and pains, 
 By your sons in servile chains, 
 We will drain our dearest veins, 
 
 But they shall be, shall be free. 
 Lay the proud usurpers low, 
 Tyrants fall in every foe, 
 Liberty's in every blow ; 
 
 Forward 1 let us do or dee. Burns* 
 
 LOVE HAS EYES. 
 Love's blind, they say, oh, never, nay, 
 Can words love's grace impart ? 
 
MINSTREL. 
 
 The bnej weak, the tongue may speak, 
 
 But eyes alone the heart. 
 In one soft look what language lies! 
 Oh, y< -s. befieve me, 1 ■ 
 
 Oh ! lore has eyes, love has eyes, eke. 
 
 Low's wing'd, they cry— oh, never, I 
 No pinions have to soar ; 
 
 aVen rove, but never love, 
 Attached, he roves no more. 
 Tan he have wings who never flies, 
 believe me, lore baa ej s. 
 Oh I love has eyes, love has eyes, Sec 
 
 SAILOR BOY. 
 The sea was calm, the iky serene, 
 
 And gently blew the eastern gale ; 
 When Anna, seated on a rock, 
 
 Watch'd the Lavonia's lessening sail: 
 To heaven she thus her prayer add. 
 
 " Thou who canst save, or canst destroy ; 
 From each surrounding danger guard 
 lUch loved little sailor hoy. 
 
 When tempests o'er the ocean howl, 
 And even sailors shrink with dread, 
 
 i • protecting angel near, 
 To never round my William's head : 
 He was beloved by all the plain, 
 
 His father's pride, his mother's joy, 
 Then safely to their amis restore 
 Their much lored little sailor boy. 
 
MINSTREL, 
 
 May no rude foe his course impede— 
 
 Conduct him safely o'er the waves— 
 O, may he never be compelled 
 
 To fight for power, or mix with slave. 
 May smiling peace his steps attend, 
 
 Each rising hour be crown'd with joy. 
 As blest as that when I again 
 
 Shall meet my much loved sailor boy." 
 
 MERMAID SOXG. 
 Sung by Miss Kelly. 
 Follow, follow thro' the sea, 
 To the mermaid's melody : 
 Saf ly, freely shalt thou range, 
 Thro' things dreadful, quaint, and strange. 
 And thro" iiquid walls behold, 
 Wonders that may not be told. 
 
 Treasures too, for ages lost, 
 
 Gems surpassing human cost ; 
 
 Fearless follow, follow me, 
 
 Thro r the treasures of the sea. Bishop. 
 
 BID ME DISCOURSE. 
 
 Sung by Miss Kelly, 
 
 Bid me discourse, I will enchant thine ear, 
 Or like a fain trip upon the green ; 
 
 Or like a nymph, with bright and flowing hair, 
 Dance on the sands, and yet no footing seen. 
 
MINSTREL. 
 
 COME, TAKE THE HARP, 
 
 Come, take the harp— 'tis vain to muse 
 
 Upon the gathering ills we see ! 
 Oh ! take the harp, and let me lose 
 
 All thoughts of ill in hearing thee .' 
 
 Sing to me love! though death were near, 
 Thy song could make my soul forget— 
 
 Nay, nay, in pity, dry that tear, 
 All may be well be happy yet I 
 
 Let me but see that snowy arm 
 
 Once more upon the dear harp lie, 
 And I will cease to dream of harm, 
 
 Will smile at fate, while thou art nigh J 
 
 Give me that strain, of mournful touch. 
 
 We us'd to love, long, long ago, 
 Before our hearts had known as much 
 
 As now, alas ! they bleed to know I 
 
 Sweet notes ! they tell of former peace, 
 Of all that look'd so rapturous then, 
 
 Now wither'd, lost — oh ! pray thee, cease, 
 I cannot bear those sounds again! 
 
 Art thou too wretched ? yes, thou art i 
 I see thy tears flow fast with mine- 
 Come, come to this devoted heart, 
 'Tis breaking, but it still is thine ! T. Moorti 
 
 B 
 
IS MINSTREL. 
 
 BELIEVE ME. 
 Believe me, if all those endearing young charms, 
 
 Which I gaze on so fondly to-day, 
 Were to change by to-morrow and fleet in my arms, 
 
 Like fairy gifts fading away ; 
 Thou wouldst still be ador'd as this moment thou art, 
 
 Let thy loveliness fade as it will ; 
 And around the dear ruin, each wish of my heart 
 
 Would entwine itself verdantly still. 
 
 It is not while beauty and youth are thine own, 
 
 And thy cheeks unprofan'd by a tear, 
 That the fervour and faith of a soul can be known. 
 
 To which time will but make thee more dear, 
 Oh I the heart that has truly lov'd never forgets, 
 
 But as truly loves on to the close ; 
 As the sun-flower turns on her god when he sets, 
 
 The same look which she tum'd when he rose. 
 
 T. Moore* 
 
 SAILOR'S LAST WHISTLE. 
 Whether sailor or not, for a moment, avast I 
 Poor Jack's mizen top-sail is laid to the mast, 
 He'll never turn out or will more heave the lead ; 
 He's now all aback, nor will sails shoot ahead : 
 Yet though worms gnaw his timbers, his vessel a wreck, 
 When he hears the last whistle he'll jump upon deck. 
 
 Secure in his cabin, he's moord in the grave, 
 Nor hears any more the loud roar of the wave ; 
 
MINSTREL. 19 
 
 Piess'd by death, he is sent to the tender below, 
 Where seamen and lubbers must ev'ry one go, 
 
 Yet though, See. 
 For sixty long years was his passage through life, 
 Attended by tempests, for Jack had a wife ; 
 To leeward adversity's current ran strong, 
 But the rudder of honesty bore him along, 
 
 Yet though, &c. 
 With his frame a mere hulk, and his reck'ning on 
 
 board, 
 At last he dropp'd down to mortality's road ; 
 With eternity 1 ! ocean before him in view, 
 He cheerfully piped out 4 my messmates adieu : 
 For though worms gnaw my timbers, my vessel a 
 
 wreck, 
 When I hear the last whistle, I'll jump upon deck.' 
 
 COBLER AND GOOSE. 
 A cobler liv'd in York, 
 
 A merry man was he : 
 His wife took needle work, 
 
 A kind old soul was she. 
 Easy as an old shoe 
 
 They pass'd their lives together, 
 All of a piece, 'tis true, 
 
 Like sole and upper-leather. 
 Spoken— They were a happy couple, worked hard 
 and never grumbled at the times, or at each other, 
 that's a rare thing in our days: while she nimbly em- 
 ployed her needle, he hammered away at the lapstone, 
 and sung 
 
 Ran, tan, tan, tan, tan, Sec. 
 
20 MINSTREL. 
 
 This cobbler bought a goose, 
 
 And fattened her quite high, 
 Somehow the bird got loose 
 
 The day it was to die: 
 * Here Pegs,' bawl'd out the wife, 
 
 * Run after the goose to win her !' 
 Goosey she ran for her life, 
 And the cobbler ran for his dinner. 
 Spoken— Away he went, and the boys after hiui, call- 
 ing out, ' Now cobbler— now goose : two to one on 
 Pegs.' Egad he almost caught her once, when his foot 
 slipped, and headlong he went into the sty, among a 
 litter of pigs, and only saved his bacon by leaving the 
 tail of his coat in the old sow's grinders. But Pegs 
 wasn't to be abashed, he followed her through bush 
 and through brier, bogs and quagmires, over houses, 
 trees, hedges, ditches, fields, cats, dogs, cocks, hens, 
 cows, bulls and pigs.— At last he knocked down the 
 stall of an old woman who sold hot apple dumplings — 
 that made a rare scramble for the boys; and what 
 could they do but sing 
 
 Ran, tan, tan, &c. 
 By the river he seized her rump, 
 
 But she got loose with a scream, 
 And he fell in the water plump, 
 
 While goosey cross'd the stream. 
 So finding the chase no use, 
 He went home in a shiver. 
 Told wify he'd lost the goose, 
 But got a fine duck in the river. 
 Spoken.— ■* Oh, wife, wife !' he cried, * I've had my 
 morning's wet, the goose has gone a gander hunting. 
 I was thrown out, and had fairly a tumbling in ; be- 
 
1 
 
 MINSTREL. 21 
 
 sides leaving half my jacket in pawn in the piggery ; 
 my wild goose chase has turned out a duck, but no 
 green pease ; and as I am very wet you may as wel i 
 hand us over a drop of 
 
 Ran, tan, tan, &c. Dibdin. 
 
 SOLDIER'S BRIDE. 
 
 The moon was beaming silver bright, 
 
 The eye no cloud could view, 
 Her lover's step, in silent night, 
 Well pleased, the damsel knew ; 
 At midnight hour, 
 Beneath the tower, 
 He murmur'd soft, * oh ! nothing fearing, 
 
 With your own true Soldier fly, 
 And his faithful heart be cheering ; 
 
 List dear ! 'tis I ; 
 List ! list I list ! love, lift ! dear, 'tis I; 
 With thine own tire Soldier fly.' 
 
 Then whisper'd Love, * Oh ! maiden fair ! 
 
 Ere morning sheds its ray, 
 Thy lover calls— all peril dare, 
 And haste to horse away ! 
 In time of need, 
 Yon gallant steed 
 That champs the rein, delay reproving. 
 
 Shall each peril bear thee by, 
 With his master's charmer roving ; 
 List dear ! 'tis I ; &c. 
 
22 MINSTREL. 
 
 And now her gallant Soldier's bride, 
 
 She's fled her home afar, 
 And chance, or joy, or wo betide, 
 She'll brave with him the war! 
 And bless the hour, 
 When 'neath the tower, 
 He whisper'd soft, * Oh ! nothing fearing, 
 
 With thine own true soldier fly, 
 And his faithful heart be cheering : 
 List dear ! 'tis I ; &c. 
 
 LONEY MACTWOLTER. 
 
 O, whack ! Cupid's a mannikin ; 
 
 Smack on my heart he hit me a polter. 
 Good lack, Judy O'Flannikin ! 
 
 Dearly she loves nate Looney Mactwolter. 
 Judy's my darling, my kisses she suffers ; 
 She's an heiress, that's clear, 
 For her father sell's beer ; 
 He keeps the sign of the cow and the snuffers. 
 She's so smart, 
 From my heart 
 I cannot bolt her. 
 Oh, whack, Judy O'Flannikin ! 
 She is the girl for Looney Mactwolter. 
 
 Oh, whack, &c. 
 Och, hone I good news, I need a bit ! 
 
 We'd correspond, but laming would choke her. 
 Mavrone !— I cannot read a bit ; 
 Judy can't tell a pen from a poker. 
 
MINSTREL. 23 
 
 Judy's so constant, I'll never forsake her ; 
 She's true as the moon ;— 
 Only one afternoon 
 I caught her asleep with a humpback shoemaker, 
 Oh, she's so smart, &c 
 
 Coleman. 
 
 THE WOUNDED HUSSAR. 
 Alone on the banks of the dark rolling Danube, 
 
 Fair Adelaide hied when the battle was o'er ; 
 l O, whither' she cried, ' hast thou wander'd my love ? 
 
 Or where dost thou welter and bleed on the shore ? 
 What voice have I heard ? 'Twas my Henry that 
 sighed :' 
 
 All mournful she hasten'd, nor wander'd she far, 
 When, bleeding and low on the heat\ she descried, 
 
 By the light of the moon, her poor wounded Hussar. 
 From his bosom, that heaved, the last torrent was 
 streaming ; 
 
 And pale was his visage, deep mark'd with a scar ; 
 And dim was that eye, once expressively beaming, 
 
 That melted in love, and that kindled in war ; 
 How smit was poor Adelaide's heart at the sight ; 
 How bitter she wept o'er the victim of war ! 
 ' Hast thou come, my fond love, this last sorrowful 
 night, 
 
 To cheer the lone heart of your wounded Hussar V 
 
 * Thou shalt live,' she replied, * heaven's mercy re- 
 lieving 
 Each anguishing wound, shall forbid me to mourn ;' 
 
54 MINSTREL. 
 
 4 Ah ! no ; the last pang in my bosom is heaving, 
 No light of the morn shall to Heniy return. 
 
 Thou charmer of life, ever tender and true, 
 Ye babes of my love, that await me afar ;' 
 
 His faltering tongue scarce could murmur adieu, 
 When he sunk in her arms— the poor wounded Hus' 
 sar. Campbell. 
 
 THE ROSE-BUD. 
 When the rose-bud of summer, its beauty bestowing, 
 
 On winter's rude banks all its sweetness shall pour, 
 And the sunshine of day in night's darkness be glow- 
 
 O ! then, dearest Ellen, I'll love you no more. [ing y 
 
 When of hope the last spark, which thy smile loved to 
 cherish, 
 In my bosom shall die, and its splendor be o'er, 
 And the pulse of that heart which adores you shall pe- 
 rish, 
 Oh ! then, dearest Ellen, I'll love you no more. 
 
 T. Moore, 
 
 DESERTED BY THE WANING MOON. 
 Deserted by the waning moon, 
 When skies proclaim night's cheerless noon, 
 On tower, or fort, or tented ground, 
 The sentry walks his lonely round : 
 And should a footstep haply stray 
 Where caution marks the guarded way— 
 Who goes there ? stranger, quickly tell ; 
 A friend— a friend— good night— all's well. 
 
MINSTREL. 25 
 
 Or sailing on the midnight deep, 
 While weary messmates soundly sleep, 
 The careful watch patroles the deck, 
 To guard the ship 1 from foes o> wreck : 
 And while his thoughts oft homeward veer, 
 Some well known voice salutes his ear— 
 What cheer ! oh ! brother, quickly tell, 
 Above !— below .'—good night I— all's well. 
 
 T.Dibdin. 
 
 DAME DURDEX. 
 
 Dame Durden kept five serving girls, 
 
 To cany the milking pail ; 
 She also kept five labouring men, 
 To use the spade and flail. 
 Twas Moll and Bet, and Doll and Kate, and Dorothy 
 
 Draggletail ; 
 Vnd John and Dick, and Joe and Jack, and Humphry 
 with his flail. 
 
 'Twas John kiss'd Molly! 
 
 And Dick kiss'd Betty! 
 And Joe kiss'd Dolly! 
 
 And Jack kiss'd Katy! 
 And Dorothy Draggletail, 
 And Humphrey with his flail; 
 And Kitty was a charming girl to carry the milking 
 pail. 
 
 Dame Durden in the morn so soon 
 She did begin to call ; 
 
MINSTREL. 
 
 To rouse her servants, maids and men, 
 She then began to bawl. 
 
 'Twas Moll and Bet, &c. 
 
 ' Twas on the morn of Valentine, 
 
 The birds began to prate ; 
 Dame Durden's servants, maids and men, 
 
 They all began to mate. 
 
 'Twas Moll and Bet, &c. 
 
 THE SAVOYARD BOY. 
 
 I come from a land far away, 
 
 My parents to keep me, too poor ; 
 To please you I sing and I play, 
 
 Yet a living can scarcely procure. 
 About, sad and hungry I go, 
 
 Though smiling as if 'twere with joy ; 
 Then a trifle in pity bestow, 
 
 To relieve a poor Savoyard boy. 
 
 When around me the children I see 
 So careless and happy appear, 
 
 I sigh whiJc fhej- listen to me, 
 And oft as I play drop a tear. 
 
 I cannct help thinking that they, 
 Can fly to their parents with joy : 
 
 While mine they are far, far away- 
 Then relieve a poor Savoyard boy. 
 
 C. Dibden.jur.> 
 
MIXSTREL. 27 
 
 LITTLE CHIMNEY-SWEEP. 
 rwas a keen frosty morn, and the snow heavy falling, 
 Vhen a child of misfortune was thus sadly calling-, 
 Sweep ! sweep ! I am cold, and the snow's very deep, 
 >pray take compassion' on poor little sweep ; 
 
 Sweep ! Sweep !' 
 lie [tears down his cheeks in large drops were fast 
 
 rolling, 
 Tnnotictd, unpitied by those by him strolling, 
 Vho frequently warned him at distance to keep, 
 Vhile he cried * Take compassion on poor little sweep. 
 
 n vain he implored passing strangers for pity ; 
 
 Tiis smiled at his 'plaints, and that banter'd his ditty; 
 
 lumanity's offspring as yet lay asleep, 
 
 for heard the sad wailing of poor little sweep. 
 
 it the step of a door, half froze and dejected, 
 le sat down and jrieved, to be shun'd and neglected ; 
 Vhen a kind-hearted damsel by chance saw him weep, 
 .nd resolved to befriend him, the poor little sweep. 
 
 Jnmindful of sneers, to a neighbour's she led him, 
 Varm'd his limbs by the fire, and tenderly fed him ; 
 .nd oh ! what delight dad this fair maiden reap, 
 Vhen she found a lost brother in poor little sweep ! 
 
 a rapture she gazed on each black sooty feature, 
 ..nd hugg'd to her bosom the foul-smelling creature, 
 Vho, saved by a sister, no longer need creep 
 liro' lanes, courts and alleys, a poor little iweep. 
 
28 MINSTREL. 
 
 SIEGE OF PLATTSBURGH. 
 Back side Albany stan' Lake Champlain. 
 
 One little pond, half full a water, 
 Plat-te-bug dare too, close 'pon de main, 
 Town small— he grow bigger do herea'ter. 
 
 On Lake Champlain 
 
 Uncle Sam set he boat, 
 And Massa M'Donough he sail 'em ; 
 
 While Gen'ral M'Comb 
 
 Make Plat-te-bug he home, 
 Wid de army, who courage nebber fail 'em. 
 On 'lebenth day of September, 
 
 In eighteen hund'ed an fourteen, 
 Gubbener Probose, and he British soger, 
 Come to Plat-te-bug a tea party courtin ; 
 
 And he boat come loo 
 
 Arter Uncle Sari boat, 
 Massa 'Donough do look sharp out de winder- 
 Den Gen'ral M'Con>h, 
 
 (Ah ! he al 1 ay i home,) 
 Catch fire too, jis like a tinder. 
 Bang ! bang ! bang ! den de cannon gin t' roar 
 
 In Plat-te-bug, and all 'bout dat quarter ; 
 
 Gubbener Probose try he hand 'pon de shore. 
 
 While he boat take he luck 'pon de water— 
 
 Dut Massa M'Donough 
 
 Knock he boat in he head, 
 Break he hart, broke he shin, 'tove he caffin in, 
 
 And Gen'ral M'Comb 
 
 Start old Probose home- 
 Tot me soul den, I mus die a laffin. 
 
MINSTREL. 
 
 'robose scare so, he lef all behine, 
 Powder, ball, cannon, tea-pot an kittle— 
 ome say he cotch a cole — trouble in he mine ; 
 Cause he eat so much raw and cole vittle — 
 
 Uncle Sam berry sorry, 
 
 To be sure, for he pain ; 
 Fish he nuss himself up well an harty — 
 
 For Gen'ral M'Comb 
 
 An Massa 'Donough home, 
 fhen he notion for a nudder tea party. 
 
 WILL WATCH. 
 
 as one morn, when the wind from the northward 
 
 blew keenly, 
 Tiile sullenly roar'd the big waves of the main, 
 uned smuggler, Will Watch, kiss'd his Sue, then 
 > serenely 
 
 ook helm, and to sea boldly steer'd out again, 
 i had promked his Sue, that this trip, if well ended, 
 iouW toil up his hopes, and he'd anchor on shore ; 
 m his pockets were lined, why his life should be 
 
 mended ; 
 lie laws he had broken he'd never break more. 
 
 «aboat was trim, made her port, took her lading, 
 len Will stood for home, reach'd the offing & cried ? 
 I night, if I've luck, furls the sails of my trading ; 
 ! dock I can lay, serve a friend too beside. 
 ! lay-to till the night came on darksome and dreary, 
 o crowd every sail then he piped up each hand i 
 
30 MINSTREL. 
 
 But a signal soon spied, 'twas a prospect uncheery, 
 A signal that warn'd him to bear from the land, 
 
 The Philistines are out, cries Will, we'll take no heed 
 on't, 
 Attack'd, who's the man that will flinch from his 
 gun; 
 Should my head be blown off, I shall ne'er feel the 
 need on't— 
 We'll fight while we can; when we can't, boys, 
 we'll run. 
 Thro' the haze of the night a bright flash now appear* 
 ing, 
 Oh ! now, cries Will Watch, the Philistines bear 
 down ; 
 Bear-a-hand, my tight lads, ere we think about sheer- 
 ing, 
 One broadside paur in, should we swim, boys, or 
 drown. 
 
 But should I be popp'd off, you, my mates, left be 
 hind me. 
 Regard my last words, see 'em kindly obeyed : 
 Let no stone mark the spot, and, my friends, do you 
 mind me, 
 Near the bench is the grave where Will Watch would 
 be laid. 
 Poor Will's yam was spun out—for a bullet next minute 
 Laid him low on the deck and he never spoke more; 
 His bold crew fought the brig while a shot remained 
 in it, 
 Then sheer'd— and Will's hull to his Susan they bore. 
 
MINSTREL. 31 
 
 i the dead of the night his last wish was complied 
 
 with, 
 To R m known his grave, and to few known his end; 
 .e was borne to the earth by the crew that he died 
 
 with. 
 He'd th^ tears of his Susan, the prayers of each 
 
 friend, 
 ear his grave dash the billows, the winds loudly 
 
 bellow. 
 Yon ash struck with lightning, points out the cold 
 
 bed 
 There Will Watch, the bold smuggler, that famed 
 
 lawless fellow, 
 Once feared, now forgot, sleeps in peace with the 
 
 dead. 
 
 SANDY O'ER THE LEE. 
 winna marry ony mon but Sandy o'er the Lee ; 
 winna ha' the Doiniaee 9 for erude he canna be ; 
 ut I will ha'mj- Saidy lad. my Sandy o'er the lee. 
 For he's aye a kissing, kissing, aye a kissing me. 
 
 will not ha' the minister, for a' his godly looks, 
 or yet will I the lawyer ha' for a' Ins wily crooks : 
 will not ha' the ploughman lad, nor yet will I the 
 
 miller ; 
 ut I will ha' my Sandy lad, without one penny 
 
 siller. 
 For he's aye a kissing, See. 
 
32 MINSTREL. 
 
 I will not ha' the soldier lad, for he gangs to the war, 
 I will not ha' the sailor lad, because he smells of tar : 
 I will not have the lord or laird, for a' their mickle gear: 
 But I will ha' my Sandy lad, my Sandy o'er the mier. 
 For he's aye a kissing, &c. Burns* 
 
 I'VE KISS'D AND I'VE PRATTLED. 
 I've kiss'd and I've prattled with fifty fair maids, 
 
 And changed them as oft, do you see ? 
 But, of all the gay lasses that sport on the green, 
 
 The maid of the mill for me. 
 There's fifty young men have told me fine tales, 
 
 And call'd me the fairest she ; 
 But, of all the young men that danced on the green, 
 
 Young Harry's the lad for me. 
 Her eyes are as black as the sloe in the hedge, 
 
 Her cheeks like the blossoms in May ; 
 Her teeth are as white as the new-shorn flock, 
 
 Her breath like the new made hay. 
 He's tall and he's straight as the poplar tree, 
 
 His cheeks as red as therose ; 
 He looks like a squire of high degree, 
 
 When dressed in his sunday clothes. 
 
 Mrs. Brooke* 
 
 I'LL LOVE THEE NIGHT AND DAY. 
 
 Be mine, dear maid ; this faithful heart 
 
 Can never prove untrue ; 
 'T were easier far from life to part, 
 
 Than cease to live for you. 
 
MINSTREL. S3 
 
 Then turn thee not away, my love ; 
 
 Oh ! turn thee not away, my love ; 
 For, by the light of truth, I swear 
 
 To love thee night and clay, love. 
 
 The lark shall first forget to sing, 
 
 When morn unfolds the east, 
 Ere I by change or coldness wring 
 Thy fond confiding breast. 
 
 Then turn thee not away, &c 
 
 Terry, 
 
 MY HIGHLAND HOME. 
 
 My Highland home, where tempests blow, 
 
 And cold thy wint'ry looks ; 
 Thy mountain's crowned wi' driven snow, 
 
 And icebound are thy brooks : 
 But colder far's the Briton's heart, 
 
 However far he roam, 
 To whom these words no joy impart, 
 
 My native Highla . ' home ! 
 Then gang wi' me to St >tland dear, 
 
 We ne'er again will roa • ; 
 And, with thy smile so bonn> cheer 
 
 My native Highland home. 
 
 When summer comes, the heather bell 
 
 Shall tempt thy feet to rove ; 
 The cushat-dove within the dell 
 
 Incites to peace and love : 
 
 C 
 
4 MINSTREL, 
 
 For blithsoine is the break of day, 
 
 And sweet's the bonny broom, 
 And pure the dimpling rills that play 
 
 Around my Highland home. 
 
 Tnen gang wi' me, &c. Morton. 
 
 THE LIGHT HOUSE. 
 
 The scene was more beautiful far to my eye, 
 
 Than if day in its pride had arrayed it. 
 The land breese blew mild, and the azure arch'd sky 
 
 Look'd pure as the Spirit that made it : 
 The murmur rose soft as I silently gaz*d 
 
 In the shadowy waves' playful motion, 
 From the dim distant hill, 'till the Light-house fire 
 blaz'd 
 
 Like a star in the midst of the ocean. 
 
 Xo longer the joy of the sailor boy's breast 
 
 Was heard in his wildly breath'd numbers. 
 The sea-bird had flown to her « ave girdled nest, 
 
 The fisherman sunk to his slumbers : 
 One moment I look'd from the hill's gentle slope, 
 
 All hush'd was the billows' commotion, 
 And tho't that the Light-house look'd lovely as hope. 
 
 That star of life's tremulous ocean. 
 
 The time is long past, and the scene is afar, 
 
 Yet when my head rests on its pillow, 
 "Will memory sometimes rekindle the star 
 
 That blaz'd on the breast of the billow : 
 
MINSTREL. 
 
 In life's closing- hour, when the trembling soul flif.% 
 And death stills the heart's last emotion ; 
 
 O then may the seraph of mercy arise* 
 Like a star on eternity's ocean. 
 
 T.Moon 
 
 LOVE MY MARY. 
 
 2d Voice—- Love, my Mary, dwells w ith thee. 
 
 On thy cheek his bed I see. 
 1st Voice— 'So, that cheek is pale with care-, 
 
 Love can find no roses there ; 
 
 No, no, no, no, no, no, 
 
 No roses there, no, no. 
 Duett 'Tis not on the cheek of rosr. 
 
 Love can find the best repose, 
 
 In my heart his home thou'lt see, 
 
 There ue lives, and lives for thee. 
 
 2d Voice— Love, my Mary, ne'er can roam. 
 
 While he makes that eye his home. 
 Ut Voice— No, the eye with sorrow dim, 
 
 Ne'er can be a home for him, 
 
 Nc "er can be, no, no, no, 
 
 A home for him, no, no. 
 Duett - Y et 'tis not in beaming eyes 
 
 Love for ever warmest lies ; 
 
 In my heart his home thou'lt see. 
 
 There he lives, and lives for thee. 
 
 T. Moorr, 
 
MINSTREL. 
 
 ROSA. 
 
 Wilt thou say farewell, love, and from Rosa part 
 Rosa's tears wii) tell love, the anguish of her heart ! 
 I'll still be thine, and thou'lt be mine, 
 
 I'll love thee tho' we sever, 
 Oh ! say can I, e'er cease to sigh, 
 Or cease to love, no never ! 
 Wilt thou think of me, love, when thou art far away, 
 Oh ! Ill think of thee, love, never, never stray. 
 I'il still be thine, &c. 
 
 Let not others' wile, love, thy ardent heart betray, 
 Remember Rosa's smile, love, Rosa far aw ay. 
 I'll still be thine, &c. 
 
 T. Moore. 
 
 I HAVE LOV'D THEE. 
 
 I'have lov'd thee, dearly lov'd thee, 
 
 Through an age of •worldly woe, 
 How ungrateful I have proved thee, 
 
 Let my mournful exile show. 
 Ten long years of anxious sorrow, 
 
 Hour by hour I counted o'er, 
 Looking forward till to-morrow, 
 
 Ev'ry day I lov'd thee more. 
 
 Power nor splendor could not charm me, 
 
 I no joy in wealth could see, 
 Nor could threats or fears alarm me. 
 
 Save the fear of losing 1 thee : 
 
MlNSTREt- 37 
 
 When the storms of fortune press'd thee, 
 
 I have wept to see thee weep, 
 When relentless cares distress'd thee, 
 
 I have lull'd those cares to sleep. 
 
 Mrs. Robinson, 
 
 FANCY'S SKETCH. 
 
 Here mark the poor desolate maid, 
 
 By a parents ambition be tray'd, 
 Behold on her fast fading cheek, 
 
 The tears that her agony speak : 
 And here stands the well belov'd youth. 
 
 Calling heaven to witness his truth ; 
 And there stands the murderous wretch. 
 
 But mark me, but mark me l 
 'Tis but fancy's sketch. 
 
 Behold in his face are express'd, 
 
 The passions that rage in his breast ; 
 Here read, while he dares to demand 
 
 Of her parents, this maiden's fair hand ; 
 While deep in his dungeon secur'd, 
 
 A still living wife is immur'd ; 
 Who cures the murderous wretch, 
 
 But start not ! start not ! 
 'Tis but fancy's sketch. Braham. 
 
 THE MINUTE GUN AT SEA. 
 
 Let him who sighs in sadness, here, 
 Rejoice, and know a friend is near. 
 
M MINSTREL. 
 
 What heavenly sounds are those I hear ? 
 What being comes, the gioom to cheer .' 
 
 When in the storm on Albion's coast, 
 The night-watch guards his weary post, 
 
 From thought of danger free. 
 He marks some vessel's dusky form, 
 And hears amid the howling storm, 
 
 The minute gun at sea, 
 
 The minute gun at sea, 
 And hears amid the howling storm, 
 
 The minute gun at sea, 
 
 Swift from the shore a hardy few— 
 
 The life-boat mann'd with a gallant crew, 
 
 And dare the dangerous wave. 
 Through the wild surf they cleave their way ; 
 Lost in the foam, nor know dismay— 
 
 For they go tht crew to save, 
 
 For they go the crew to save, 
 Lost in the foam, nor know dismay— 
 
 For they go the crew to save. 
 
 But oh ! what rapture fills each breast 
 
 Of the hopeless crew of the ship distress'd ; 
 
 When landed safe, what joys to tell, 
 
 Of all the dangers that befell. 
 
 Then is heard no more, 
 Then is heard no more, 
 
 Then is heard no more by the watch on the shore, 
 The minute gun at sea. 
 
 M.P.King, 
 
MINSTREL. 
 
 AFTOX WATER. 
 
 Flow gently sweet Afton among thy green brarr, 
 Flew gently. I'll sing thee a song in thy praise ; 
 My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream. 
 Flow gently, sweet Alton, disturb not her dream. 
 
 Thou stock dove whose echo resounds thro' the glen. 
 Ye wild whistling blackbirds in yon thorny den, 
 Thou green crested lapwing thy screaming forbear, 
 I charge you disturb not my slumbering fair. 
 
 How lofty, sweet Afton, thy neighbouring hills, 
 Far mark'd with the courses of clear, winding rills ; 
 There dai'y I wander as noon rises high, 
 My flocks and my Mary's sweet cot in my eye. 
 
 How pleasant thy banks and green vallies below, 
 Where wild in the w oodlands the primroses blow ; 
 There oft as mild evening weeps over the lea, 
 The sweet scented birk shades my Mary and me. 
 
 Thy crystal stream, Afton, how lovely it glides, 
 And w inds by the cot where my Mary resides ; 
 How wanton thy waters her snowy feet lave, 
 As gathering sweet flowerets she steins thy clear wave. 
 
 Flow gently, sw r eet Afton, among thy green braes, 
 Flow gently, sweet river, the theme qf my lays, 
 My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream, 
 Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream. 
 
 Burns, 
 
10 MINSTREL. 
 
 BANKS OF BONNIE DOON. 
 Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon, 
 
 How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair ; 
 How can ye chant, ye little birds, 
 
 And I sae weary fir o' care ! 
 Thou'll break my heart thou warbling bird, 
 
 That wantons thro' the flow'ring thorn ; 
 Thou minds me o' departed joys. 
 
 Departed never to return. 
 Oft have I rov'd by bonnie Doon, 
 
 To see the rose and woodbine twine : 
 And ilka bird sang o r its luve, 
 
 And fondly sae did I o' mine. 
 Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose, 
 
 Fu' sweet upon its thorny tree ; 
 And my fause luver stole my rose, 
 
 But ah 1 he left the thorn wi' me. Burn** 
 
 AULD LANG SYNE. 
 Should auld acquaintance be forgot, 
 
 And nevvr brought to min' ? 
 Should auld acquaintance be forgot, 
 And days o' lang syne ? 
 For auld lang syne, my dear, 
 
 For auld lang syne, 
 We'll tak' a cup o' kindness yet, 
 For auld lang syne. 
 
MINSTREL. 41 
 
 We twa hae run about the braes, 
 
 And pu'd the go wans fine ; 
 But we've wander'd mony a weary foot 
 Sin' auld laug syne. 
 For auld, &c. 
 We twa hae paidl't i' the burn, 
 
 Frae mornin' sun till dine : 
 But seas between us braid hae roar'd, 
 Sin' auld lang syne. 
 For auld, &c. 
 And here's a hand, my trusty fiere, 
 
 And gie's a hand o' thine ; 
 And we'll tak' a right guide wille-waught 
 For auld lang syne. 
 
 For auld, &c. 
 And surely ye'll be your pint-stowp, 
 
 And surely I'll be mine ; 
 And we'll tak' a cup o' kindness yet, 
 For auld lang syne. 
 
 For auld, &c. Burns* 
 
 AESENCE. 
 Days of absence, sad and dreary, 
 
 Cloth'd in sorrow's dark array ; 
 Days of absence, I am weary, 
 
 Her I love is far away. 
 Hours of bliss, too quickly vanished, 
 
 When will aught like you return ; 
 When the heavy sigh be banish'd ; 
 
 When this bosom cease to m©un\. 
 
42 MINSTREL. 
 
 Not till that lov'd voice can greet me, 
 
 Which so oft has charm'd mine ear ; 
 Not till those ftweet eyes can meet me, 
 
 Telling; that I still am dear : 
 Days of absence then will vanish, 
 
 Joy will all my pangs repay ; 
 Soon my bosom's idol banish 
 
 Gloom, but felt when she's away. 
 
 All my love is turned to sadness, 
 
 Absence pays the tender vow, 
 Hopes that fiil'd the heart with gladness., 
 
 Mem'ry turns to anguish now : 
 Love may yet return to greet me, 
 
 Hope may take the place of pain ; 
 Antoinette with kisses meet me, 
 
 Breathing love and peace again. 
 
 THE CARRIER PIDGEON. 
 
 Come hither thou beautiful rover, 
 
 Thou wand'rer of earth and of air ; 
 Who beaiest the sighs of a lover, 
 
 And bringest him news of his fair ; 
 Bend hither thy light waving pinion, 
 
 And show me the gloss of thy neck ; 
 O perch on my hand dearest minion, 
 
 And turn up thy bright eye and peck. 
 
 Here is bread of the whitest and sweetest. 
 And there is a sip of red wine ; 
 
MINSTREL. 43 
 
 Though thy wing- is the lightest and fleetest, 
 'T « ill be fleeter when ner\ 'd by the vine : 
 
 I have written on rose scented paper, 
 With thy wing" quill, a soft billet doux, 
 
 1 have melted the wax in love's taper, 
 'Tis the colour of true hearts' sky blue. 
 
 I have fast'ned it under thy pinion. 
 
 With a blue ribbon round thy soft neck ; 
 So go rom me beautiful minion, 
 
 While the pure ether shows not a speck : 
 Like a cloud in the dim distance fleeting, 
 
 Like an arrow he hurries away ; 
 And farther and farther retreating, 
 
 He is lost in the clear blue of day. PercivaL 
 
 CONVENT BELL. 
 Far, far o'er hiil and dell 
 
 On the winds stealing, 
 List to the convent bell, 
 
 Mournfully pealing ; 
 Hark ! Hark ! it seems to say 
 
 1 As melt these sounds away, 
 So life's best joys decay, 
 
 Whilst new their feeling.' 
 Far, far, &c. 
 
 Now through the charmed ail* 
 
 Slowly ascending, 
 List to the chaunted prayer, 
 
 Solemnly blending; 
 
MINSTREL. 
 
 Hark I Hark ! it seems to say, 
 
 ' Turn from such joys away 
 To those which ne'er decay, 
 
 Though life is ending.' 
 
 Far, far, &c J. /?. Planc/ie . 
 
 BOYS OF SWITZERLAND. 
 Our cot was shelter'd in a wood, 
 And near a lake's green margin stood , 
 A mountain bleak behind us frown'd, 
 Whose top the snow in summer crown'd. 
 But pastures rich and warm to boot, 
 Lay smiling at the mountain's foot ; 
 There first we frolick'd hand in hand, 
 Two infant boys of Switzerland. 
 When scarcely old enough to know, 
 The meaning of a tale of woe, 
 'Twas then by mother we were told, 
 That father in his grave lie cold ; 
 That livelihoods were hard to get, 
 And we too young to labour yet— 
 And tears within her eyes would stand, 
 For her two boys of Switzerland. 
 But soon ftr mother as we grew, 
 We work'd as much as boys could do, 
 Our daily gains to her we bore, 
 But ah ' she'll ne'er receive them more. 
 For long we watch'd beside her bed, 
 Then sobb'd to see her lie there dead : 
 And now we wander hand in hand, 
 Two orphan boys of Switzerland. Bishop, 
 
MINSTREL. 
 
 OH ! 'TIS LOVE. 
 
 Oh '. 'tis love, 'tis love, 'lis love, 
 
 That rules us all completely, 
 Oh .' 'tis love, 'tis love, "tis love, 
 
 Commands, and we obey. 
 
 What in the palace or the hovel, 
 
 Chace so quickly care away ; 
 
 What is the theBtt of cv'ry novel, 
 
 What is the plot of ev*ry play : 
 
 Say, NNhat keeps the carriage 
 
 Of many a modern miss, 
 \nd makes even marriage, 
 Sometimes a state of bliss : — 
 Oh ! 'tis love, &c 
 
 Love yit Ids the sweetest, dearest pleasure. 
 
 Love doubles ever}- other charm ; 
 Love makes the miser yield his treasure, 
 Love e'en the Stoic:, heart can warm : 
 In deserts the wildest, 
 
 On mountains or on plains, 
 Where climates are mildest, 
 Or winter ever reigns. 
 
 Oh I 'tis love, &c. Plane he. 
 
 STAR SPANGLED BANNER, 
 ©h ! say can you see by the dawn's early light, 
 What so proudly we hail'd at the twilight's last 
 gleaming, 
 
46 MINSTREL. 
 
 Whose broad stripes and bright stars thro" the peiilout 
 fight, 
 O'er the ramparts we watch'd were so gallantly 
 streaming. 
 And the rocket's red glare, the bombs bursting in air, 
 Gave proof through the night that our flag was still 
 there. 
 Oh •' say, does that star spangled banner yet wave, 
 O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave? 
 
 On the shore dimly seen thro' the mists of the deep, 
 
 Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes, 
 What is that which the breeze, o'er the tow'ring steep 
 
 As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses : 
 Now it catches the gleam of the morning's first beam, 
 
 In full glory reflected, new shines on the stream : 
 5 Tis the star spangled banner, oh .' Jong may it wave. 
 
 O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave. 
 
 And where is that band who so vauntingly swore, 
 
 That the havoc of war and the battle's confusion, 
 A home and a country, shall leave us no more, 
 
 Their blood has wash'd out their foul footsteps pol- 
 lution : 
 No refuge could save the hireling and slave, 
 
 From the terror of flight, or the gloom of the grave, 
 And the star spangled banner in triumph doth wave, 
 
 O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave. 
 
 Oh ! thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand 
 
 Between their lov'd home, and the war's desolation, 
 Blest with vict'ry and peace, may the heav'n rescued 
 and. 
 
MINSTREL. 47 
 
 Praise the power that hath made and pre served us 
 a nation : 
 Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just, 
 
 And this be our motto—" In God is our tni :," 
 And the star spangled banner in triumph shall v. ave ; 
 
 O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave ! 
 
 MASTER MASON'S HYMN*. 
 Air— German Hy.un. 
 Ah ! when shall we three meet like them, 
 AVho last were at Jerusalem ; 
 For three they were, and one i 
 He lies where Cassia marks tht >pot. 
 
 Though poor he was. with kings he trod ; 
 Though great, he humbly kneit to God : 
 Ah I when shall those restore again 
 The broken link of friendship's chain ? 
 Behold ! where mourning beauty bent. 
 In silence o'er the monument, 
 And wildly spread in sorrow there 
 The ringlets of her flowing hair. 
 
 The future sons of grief shall sigh, 
 While standing round in mystic tie, 
 And raise their hands alas ! to heaven, 
 In anguish that no hope is given. 
 
 From whence we came, or wither go, 
 Ask me no more, nor seek to know, 
 "Till three shall meet, who form'd like (hen 
 The Grand Lodge at Jerusalem ' 
 
48 MINSTREL. 
 
 THE DYING AMERICAN TAR. 
 
 His couch was his shroud— in his hammock he died— 
 
 The shct of the Briton was true ; 
 He breath'd not a sigh, but faintly he cried, 
 
 Adieu, my brave shipmates, adk-u .' 
 Away to your stations ! it ne'er must be said, 
 
 Your banner you furl'd for a foe ; 
 Let those stars ever shine at your mizen-mast head, 
 
 And the pathway to victory show. 
 
 Remember the accents of Lawrence the brave, 
 
 Ere his spirit had fled to its rest ; 
 * Don't give up the Ship ."* Let her sink 'neath the 
 wave, 
 
 And the breeze bear her fate to the west. 
 Oh, swear that your banner shall never be furl'd 
 
 Let me hear the words •• Struck has the foe !" 
 And contented my soul bids adieu to the world, 
 
 To its pleasures, its pains, and its woe. 
 
 He said— and a gun to the lee-ward w as heard, 
 ; T was the enemy's gun well he knew ; 
 
 He rais'd up his head, and three times he cheer'd, 
 And expired as he utter'd— " Adieu." 
 
 BONNY BOAT. 
 
 O swiftly glides the bonny boat, just parted from the 
 
 shore, 
 \nd to the fisher's chorus note, soft moves the dipping 
 
 oar: 
 
MINSTREL. 43 
 
 Each toil is borne with happy cheer, and ever may they 
 
 speed; 
 That feeble age and help-mate dear, and tender bair- 
 
 nies feed. 
 We cast our lines in Largo bay, our nets are floating; 
 
 wide, 
 Our bonny boat with yielding sway, rocks lightly on 
 
 the tide: 
 And happy prove our daily lot upon the summer sea, 
 And blest on land our kindly cot, where all our 
 
 treasures be. 
 
 The Mermaid on her rock may sing, the witch may 
 
 weave her charm, 
 Nor water-sprite, nor eldrick thing, the bonny boat can 
 
 harm: 
 It safely bears its scaly store, thro' many a stormy gale, 
 While joyful shouts rise from the shore, its homeward 
 
 prow to hail. 
 We cast our lines in Largo bay, &c. 
 The aged matron casts her eye upon the troubled deep, 
 The anxious dame looks wistfully, the careless bairn's 
 
 sleep ; 
 The broad red sun hath set in blood, the sea-birds sadly 
 
 wail, 
 The lightning's flash, and driving scud, bespeak the 
 
 coming gale. 
 
 ' our lines in Largo bay, &c. 
 The storm bursts out, the signal light gleams from the- 
 
 little cot ; 
 O'er foaming billows briny bright, fast bounds the bon- 
 ny boat ; * D 
 
50 MINSTREL. 
 
 They double Largo's headland wide, and shoot across 
 
 the bay, 
 "1 ill in the cove they safely ride, though gunnel deep 
 w ith spray. 
 We cast our lines in Largo bay, See. 
 
 The well known shout of safety rings from out the 
 
 echoing cove, 
 The speechless mother wildly springs to him whose 
 
 voice is love ; 
 The tale is told to greedy ears, of peril and alarms, 
 But soon the dame forgets her fears, within a husband's 
 
 arms. 
 We cast our hues in Largo bay, &c. 
 
 MY HEART AND LUTE, 
 T give thee all, I can no more, 
 
 Though poor the off 'ring be ; 
 My heart and lute are all the store, 
 
 That I can bring to thee. 
 A lute, whose gentle song reveals 
 
 The soul of love full well. 
 Av.d, better far, a heart that feels 
 Much more than lute can tell. 
 I give thee all, I can no more, 
 
 Though poor the off 'ring be ; 
 My heart and lute are ail the store 
 That I can bring to thee. 
 Though love and song may fail, abu 
 * Q keep Jif<A clouds an ay. 
 
MINSTREL. 51 
 
 At least 'twill make them lighter pass, 
 
 Or gild them if they stay. 
 If ever care his discord flings, 
 
 O'er life's enchanted strain, 
 Let love but gently touch the strings, 
 
 Twill all be sweet again. 
 
 I give thee all, &c. T.Moofc. 
 
 THE POST OFFICE. 
 In a Post Office bred, 
 What a life sure I led, 
 When I handled the thoughts of my betters ; 
 O, it was such a scene, 
 That our great public inn 
 Might be called the republic of letters. 
 To Northumberland, 
 And Cumberland, 
 To Westmoreland, 
 And Sunderland, 
 To Hartford, 
 And Dartford, 
 And Bedford, 
 And Deptford, 
 North, south, east, and west, 
 To each comer address'd, 
 
 Such a wonderful concentration. 
 I might say without brag, 
 I could shake in a bag 
 
 Half the wisdom and wit of the nation. 
 Spoken.—" Do pray stand away from the windows, 
 r I can't see to give out the letters." {A tq\ 
 
52 MINSTREL. 
 
 voice) " Pray, sir, haven't you got never a von for me— 
 my name's Timothy Twist ; I'm a tailor, and its from 
 my sweetheart, Miss Dorothy Dumpling." u Yes, here 
 it is, all over grease, and sealed with a thimble." "Here, 
 John, is your master's letters." (A countryman's voice) 
 "How much be I to pay ?" u Nothing, you fool ; don't 
 you see it's frank' d *' '* Oh, here's M. P. on it ; that 
 means mustn't pay* I suppose." (An Irish voice) " Is 
 there never a letter for me, pray ?" *• None at all, either 
 to-day or yesterday." " Upon my soul that's very hard: 
 do you think there will be e'er a one to-morrow' r" " I 
 really can't say, sir." 
 
 So they pour in like hail, 
 Till they're off with the mail, 
 With a rattle on, dash, dash away. 
 
 Some folks write for fun, 
 And others to dun, 
 Some blaming, and others commending, 
 Some letters on love, 
 And others to move 
 Soft friends their hard cash to be lending : 
 Relations dying, 
 Selling, buying, 
 Losing, thriving, 
 
 Ships arriving, ^ 
 
 Courting, fighting, 
 Wronging, wrighting, 
 Suits at law, 
 Cash to draw, 
 Dull and gay, cross and kind, 
 Such a medley you'd find 
 Each scroll to appear on inspectioD. 
 
MINSTREL. 53 
 
 In writer and. theme, 
 That our office would seem 
 Noah's ark, by the motley collection. 
 
 Spoken—" Bless me, what a number of queer names : 
 Mr. Lion, Mr. Crow, Mr. Wolf, Mr. Talbot, Miss Part- 
 ridge, Mr. Herring, Mr. Woodcock, and Monsieur Gre- 
 nouille." (A French voice.) u Ah ! dat is for me."— 
 " Sixpence, if you please." " Ah, sixpence ! dat is too 
 mooshl I will not give you more as treepence happenny; 
 if you will not let me have him for dat, you may keep 
 him." " Your letter, Mr O'Flannagen, is ninepence, 
 more." » What for?" "It's a double letter." "A 
 double letter ! Will you be after telling me that ? Sure 
 a double letter is tivo letters, and this I have in my tist 
 is but one. O, stop a bit ; may be there's another in 
 the belly of it. What's this ? half a Bank note ! O, you 
 thieves, I'll have your Post Office taken up for stealing 
 the other half." 
 
 So they pour in like hail, 
 Till they're off with the mail, 
 With a rattle on, dash, dash away. 
 
 EXILE OF ERIN. 
 There came to the beach a poor Exile of Erin ; 
 
 The dew on his thin robe hung heavy and chill ; 
 For his country he sigh'd, when at twilight repairing, 
 
 To wander alone by the wind-beaten hill : 
 But the day-star attracted his eye's sad devotion, 
 Fof it rose on his own native isle of the ocean, 
 Where once in the glow of his youthful emotion, 
 He sang the bold anthem of Erin go Bragb ! 
 
54 MINSTREL. 
 
 Oh ! sad is my fate, said the heart-broken stranger, 
 
 The wild deer and wolf to a covert can flee ; 
 But I have no refuge from famine and danger, 
 
 A home and a country remain not for me : 
 Ah I never again in the green shady bowel's, 
 Where my forefathers liv'd, shall I spend the sweet 
 
 hours, 
 Or cover my harp with the wild woven flowers, 
 And strike to the numbers of Erin go Bragh .' 
 
 Oh. where is the eottae^ that stood by tke wild wood ? 
 
 Sister? and sires, did y<- weep for its fa.i ? 
 Oh where is my mother that watclrd oVr my childhood. 
 
 And where is th bosom-friend, dearer than all ? 
 Ah ! my sad soul long abandon'd by pleasure. 
 Oh why did it doat on a fast fading tr asure — 
 Tears like the rain drops may fall without measure. 
 But rapture and beauty they cannot read. 
 
 Erin, my country, though sad and forsaken. 
 In dreanis I revisit thy sea-beaten shore ; 
 
 But alas 1 in a far distant land I aw aken, 
 And sigh for the friends who can meet me no more. 
 
 Oh, hard *.ruel fate, wilt thou never replace me. 
 
 In a mansion of peace, where no peril can chase me. 
 
 Ah ! never again shall my brothers embrace me — 
 
 They died to defend me, or live to deplore. 
 
 But yet all its sad recollections suppressing, 
 One dying wish my lone bosom shall draw ; 
 
 Erin, an Exile bequeaths thee his blessing, 
 Land of my forefathers, Erin go Bragh 
 
MINSTREL. W 
 
 Buiied and cold, when my heart stills its motion, 
 Green be thy fields, sweetest isle of the ocean, 
 \ rid thy harp-striking bards sing aloud with devotion, 
 Erin ma vorneen, Erin go Bragh ! 
 
 T. Co 
 
 OLD TOWLER. 
 Bright chanticleer proclaims the dawn, 
 
 And spangles deck the thorn ; 
 The lowing herds now quit the lawn, 
 
 The lark springs from the corn. 
 Dogs, huntsmen, round the window throng, 
 Fleet Towlet leads the cry ; 
 
 • lie burden of their song— 
 This day a stag must die ! 
 With a hey, ho, chivey ! 
 Hark forward, hark forward, tantivy, &a'. 
 
 The cordial takes its merry round, 
 
 The laugh and joke prevail ; 
 The huntsman blows a jovial sound, 
 
 The clogs snuff* up the gale ; 
 The upland winds they sweep along, 
 
 O'er fields, through brakes they fly ; 
 The game is rous'd, too true the song— 
 
 This day a stag must die ! 
 
 "With a hey, ho, &c. 
 Poor stag! the dogs thy haunches gore, 
 
 The tears run down thy face : 
 The huntsman's pleasure is no morp. 
 
 lib joys were in the ehace : 
 
MINSTREL. 
 
 Alike the sportsman of the town, 
 
 The virgin game in view, 
 Are full content to run them down, 
 
 Then they in turn pursue. 
 
 With-a hey, ho, Sec. O'Kecfe, 
 
 SWEET HARMONY. 
 Yes, when thou hear'st the gentle breeze, 
 That waft's thy love thro' fav'ring seas 
 
 To victory ; 
 Then let thy lute's soft note prevail, 
 And murmur with the sighing gale, 
 
 Sweet harmony. 
 But when the wind with stormy roar, 
 Shall bid me wish my love on shore, 
 
 From tempest free j 
 His peril shall my lute bewail, 
 And mingle with the fearful gale, 
 
 Sad harmony. 
 But should the blast that wakes my fear, 
 On swifter wings my Edward bear 
 
 To love and me ; 
 Oh ! then my lute shall once more prove, 
 "When murmuring with the sighs of love, 
 
 Sweet harmony. Kino-. 
 
 AH ! SAY SWEET BIRD. 
 
 Ah ! say sweet bird, how long 
 In absence thus I'm doom'd to pine ; 
 
 All ! tell me in thy song, 
 Shall happiness again be mint J 
 
MINSTREL. 57 
 
 l'hy plaintive notes oft' cause a sigh, 
 
 They oft' awake ray soul to pain : 
 Eut sing sweet bird, nor e'er deny 
 
 To chaunt his name in ev'ry strain. 
 
 Brookes. 
 
 WARRIOR'S GRAVE. 
 
 Around the fair isle the wild birds sing, 
 And plunge in the lake the sparkling wing ; 
 Above the fair isle the wild flowers bloom 
 To deck the sod of the warrior's tomb. 
 Cold and damp is the warrior's sleep, 
 And o'er the grave the wild flowers weep. 
 As we pass'd that isle, the wind blew fair, 
 No mourner, nor hearse, nor shroud was there. 
 But we view'd the sods on the dead that lay, 
 And we thought of the crimson battle fray. 
 Cold and damp is the warrior's grave, 
 And heavy the turf that hides the brave. 
 As the light of their souls grew dim in death, 
 Xo mother watched o'er their waning breath; 
 Like the stars on a summer night they fell, 
 And glory proclaim'd their parting knell. 
 Cold and damp is the warrior's bed, 
 But glory is hovering round the dead. 
 To soothe their slumbers the wild birds sing, 
 To honour their sods the fair flowers spring, 
 And many a day and many a year 
 Shall scatter with wreaths their lonely bier. 
 Cold and damp is the warrior's grave, 
 And heavy the turf that hides the brave. 
 
MINSTREL. 
 
 ECHO SONG. 
 
 What any sounds, hovers sweetly round- 
 Some spirit seems to play ; 
 
 How did that note on aether float, 
 And steal my soul away. 
 
 Still, still, I hear the changeful strain, 
 
 It mocks, it echoes, it echoes me again, ike. 
 
 Is't fairy ground, are spirits round ? 
 
 Still, still, I hear the changeful strain, 
 
 It mocks, it echoes, it echoes me again, Sec. 
 
 DimoncL 
 
 THROUGH ICY VALUES. 
 Through icy vallies on my sledge I glide, 
 And down the slippery mountain's side 
 I go to see the fair, 
 I go to see the fair ; 
 Not that I care for the show, 
 O ! no, O ! no, it is not so, 
 But Irwin will be there, 
 But Irwin will be there. 
 
 Then fly, then fly, my reindeer, 
 
 Swift as the hunter's dart. 
 And safely go thro' the deep snow, 
 To meet the youth of Anna's heart. 
 
 Some may in splendor and pomp delight, 
 I'd spend my time from morn till night 
 In looking at my love, 
 In looking at my love ; 
 
MINSTREL. 50 
 
 Hours fly away untold. 
 Neither hungt r, thirst, nor cold, 
 With Irwin do I prove, 
 "With Irwin do I prove. 
 
 Then fly, then fly, &c. Reynolds 
 
 BEN BACKSTAY. 
 
 len Backstay was our boatswain, a very merry boy, 
 'or no one half so merrily could pipe all hands ahoy; 
 aid when it chanc'd his summons we did'nt well at- 
 tend, 
 .'o ltd than he more merrily could handle a rope's end. 
 
 Willi a chip chow, &c. 
 Vhile sailing once, our captain, who was a jolly dog 1 , 
 >ne day he gave to every mess a double share of grog ; 
 Mb Backstay he got tipsey, all to his heart's content, 
 knd being half-seas over, why overboard he went. 
 With a chip, chow, &c. 
 
 i shark was on the starboard, sharks don't for manners 
 
 stand, 
 lut grapple all they come near, just like your sharks 
 
 on land; 
 Ve threw out Ben some tackling, of saving him in 
 
 hopes, 
 hit the shark had bit his head off, so he could not sec 
 
 the ropes. 
 
 Willi a chip chow, &c. 
 Vithout a head his ghost appear'd, all on the briny lake, 
 Je piped all hands ahoy, and cried, lads, warning by 
 
 me take ; 
 
00 MINSTREL. 
 
 By drinking grog I lost my life, so lest my fate yoi 
 
 meet, 
 Why never mix your liquor, lads, but ahvays drink i 
 
 neat. 
 
 With a a chip chow, &c. 
 
 FAREWELL BESSY. 
 Sweetest love, I'll ne'er forget thee; 
 
 Time shall only teach my heart 
 Fonder, warmer to regret thee, 
 Lovely gentle as thou art ! 
 
 Farewell Bessy ! 
 We may meet again. 
 Yes, oh .' yes, again we'll meet Love 3 
 
 And repose our hearts at last ; 
 Oh ! sure 'twill then be sweet, Love. 
 Calm to think on sorrows past .' 
 
 Farewell Bessy ! 
 We may meet again. 
 Yet I feel my heart is breaking, 
 
 When I think I stray from thee, 
 Round the world that quiet seeking, 
 Which I fear is not for me .' 
 
 Farewell Bessy .' 
 We may meet again. 
 Calm to peace thy lover's bosom- 
 Can it, dearest, must it be, 
 Thou within an hour wilt lose him, 
 He forever loses thee I 
 
 Farewell Bessy I 
 Yet oh! not forever. T.Moore. 
 
 J 
 
MINSTREL. 61 
 
 NANNY, WILT THOU GANG WITH ME. 
 O Nanny, wilt thou gang with me, 
 
 Nor sigh to leave the flaunting town ? 
 Can silent glens have charms for thee, 
 
 The lowly cot and russet gown ? 
 No longer dress'd in silken sheen, 
 
 No longer deck'd with jewels rare, 
 Say, canst thou quit each courtly scene, 
 
 Where thou wert fairest of the fair ? 
 Nanny ! when thou'rt far away, 
 
 Wilt thou not cast a wish behind ? 
 Say, canst thou face the parching ray, 
 
 Nor shrink before the wintry wind ? 
 0, can that soft and gentle mien 
 
 Extremes of hardship learn to bear, 
 Nor sad regret each courtly scene, 
 
 Where thou wert fairest of the fair ? 
 
 J Nanny ! canst thou love so true 
 
 Through perils keen with me to go, 
 Or, when thy swain mishap shall rue, 
 
 To share with him the pang of we ? 
 Say, should disease or pain befall, 
 
 Wilt thou assume the nurse's care, 
 \"or wistful those gay scenes recall 
 
 Where thou wert fairest of the fair ? 
 Vnd when, at last, thy love shall die, 
 
 Wilt thou receive his parting breath ? 
 Wilt thou repress each struggling sigh, 
 
 And cheer with smiles the bed of death ? 
 
MINSTREL. 
 
 And wilt thou o'er his breathless clay 
 Strew flowers, and drop the tender tear ; 
 
 Nor then regret those scenes so gay, 
 "Where thou wert fairest of the fair ? Percy. 
 
 COME, REST IN THIS BOSOM. 
 Air—" Lough Shecling.'^ 
 Come, rest in this bosom, my own stricken deer I 
 Though the herd have fled from thee, thy home is stili 
 
 here ; 
 Here still is the smile that no cloud can o'ercast, 
 And the heart and the hand all thy own to the last ! 
 
 Oh I what was love made for, if 'tis not the same 
 Thro' joy and thro* torments, thro' glory and shame ? 
 I knew not, I ask'd not, if guilt's in that heart, 
 I but know that I love thee, whatever thou art ! 
 
 Thou hast call'd me thy angel, in moments of bliss,— ] 
 Still thy angel I'll be, 'mid the horrors of this,— 
 Thro' the furnace, unshrinking, thy steps to pursue, 
 And shield thee, and save thee, er perish there too ! 
 
 T.Moore. 
 
 PADDY THE PIPER. 
 When I was a boy in my father's mud edifice, 
 
 Tender and bare as a pig in a stye, 
 Out at the door as I look'd with a steady phiz, 
 
 "Who but Pat Murphy the piper came by ? 
 Says Paddy, but few play tins music, can you play : 
 
 Says I, I can't tell, for I never did try : 
 
IRKL. 63 
 
 lie lolvl me that he Lad a charm, 
 
 To make the pipes prettily speak, 
 Finn Ik- squeez'd a bag under his arm, 
 
 And sweetly they vtupa squeak ' 
 With a fara lata loo, cch ! hone, how he handl'd tlie 
 
 drone, 
 And then such sweet music he blew, 'twould have melt- 
 td the heart of a stone. 
 
 lour pipes, says I, so sweetly come over me, 
 
 Naked 1*11 wander wherever it blows, 
 Vnd if my father should try to recover me, 
 
 Sure it won't be by describing my clothes, 
 The music I hear now, takts hold of my ear now, 
 
 And leads me all over the world by the nose, 
 >o I followed his bag-pipes so sweet, 
 
 And sung, as I leap'd like a frog, 
 
 dieu to my family seat 
 
 So pleasantly plac'd in a bog ; 
 
 .nd then such sweet music he blew, 'twould hxive melt- 
 ed the heart of a stone. 
 With a fara lara, &c. 
 
 ull five years I follow'd him, nothing could 'sunder us, 
 'Till he one morning had taken a sup, 
 nd slipp'd from a bridge into a river just under us, 
 Souse to the bottom just like a blind pup ! 
 roar'd out and baw I'd out, and lustily call'd out, 
 O Faddy, my friend, don't you rut an to come up ? 
 e was dt ad as a nail in the door, 
 1 v was laid en a shelf, 
 
64 MINSTREL. 
 
 So I took up his pipes on the shore, 
 
 And now I've set up for myself, 
 With my fara lara, to be sure I have not got the knack 
 To play fara lara loo, &c. 
 
 HEIGHO! SAYS THIMBLE. 
 Thimble's scolding wife lay dead, 
 
 Heigho ! says Thimble, 
 My dearest duck's defunct in bed ; 
 Death has cabbaged her— oh, she's fled ! 
 
 With her roiey poley, 
 
 Gammon and spinage, 
 
 Heigho ! says Thimble. 
 Thimble buried his wife that night ; 
 
 Heigho .' says Thimble, 
 I grieve to sew up my heart's delight 
 With her diamond ring on her finger tight ; 
 
 And her roley poley, &c. 
 
 To law off her finger, and steal the ring, 
 
 Soon came the sexton ; 
 She sat up on end and she gave him a fling, 
 Crying Damme, you dog, you steal no such thing I 
 
 With your roley poley, &c. 
 
 And off ran the sexton. 
 
 She stalk'd to her home, and she made a din, 
 
 Heigho ! cried Thimble, 
 Then popp'd out his head, and said with a grin, 
 You are dead, dearest duck, and I can't let you in. 
 
 With your roley poley, &c. 
 
 O heigh i cried Thimble. 
 
MINSTREL. 65 
 
 THE YOUNG MAY MOON. 
 Air—" The Dandy /" 
 ung May moon is beaming, love. 
 The glow-worm's lamp is gleaming, love- 
 How sweet to rove 
 Through Morna's grove, 
 While the drowsy world is dreaming, love ! 
 Then awake ! the heaven's look bright, my dear ! 
 Tis ntver too late for delight, my dear! 
 And the best of all ways, 
 To lengthen our <1. 
 lito steal a few hours from the night, my dear ' 
 
 Now all the world is sleeping, love .' 
 
 But the sage, his star-watch keeping* low. 
 
 And I, whose star, 
 
 Ifon glorious far. 
 Is the eye from that easement peeping, love. 
 Then awake, till the rise of the sun, my dear! 
 The sage's glass we'll shun, my dear; 
 
 Or, in watching the flight 
 
 Of bodies of light, 
 He might happen to take thee for one, my dear ! 
 
 T. Moore. 
 
 DEEP IN MY BREAST. 
 Deep in my breast the rosy tyrant dwells, 
 
 Piercing with cruel aim each poison 'd dart ; 
 And if my eye my soul's sad torment tells, 
 It speaks the secret anguish of my heart. 
 E 
 
MINSTREL. 
 
 Rest silently, flau'rer ; nor let thy pain rny love betrat , 
 Hope shall hush thee in my breast, and chase each 
 anxious sigh away. 
 
 THE DASHING WHITE SERGEANT. 
 
 Sung by Miss Kelly. 
 If I had a beau for a soldier who'd go, 
 Do you think I'd say, no ?— no, no, not I ! 
 When his red coat I saw, not a sigh would I draw, 
 But I'd give him u eelat" for his bravery I 
 If an army of Amazons e'er came in play, 
 Vs a dashing White Sergeant, I'd march away ! 
 March away I march away '. march ! march away ' 
 
 When my soldier was gone, d'ye think I'd take on. 
 Sit moping forlorn ? no, no, no — not I ! 
 His fame my concern, how my besom would burn. 
 VVaen I saw him return, crown' d with victory ! 
 If an army of Amazons, fee. 
 
 TOM BOWLING. 
 Here a sheer hulk lies poor Tom Bowling 
 
 The darling of our crew ; 
 No more he'll hear the tempest howling. 
 
 For death has broach'd him too. 
 His form was of the manliest beauty, 
 
 His heart was kind and soft ; 
 Faithful below he did his duty, 
 
 And now he's, gone aloft. 
 Tom never from his word departed. 
 
 His virtues were so rare ; 
 
MINSTREL. 
 
 ii»- input's were many and true-hem mm*. 
 
 I lis Poll was kind and fVdr ; 
 \ntl tin n he'd sing so blithe and jolly, 
 
 Ah, many's the time and oft! 
 Bu1 mini) is turn'd to melancholy, 
 
 Poor Tom is gone aloft. 
 
 J i shall poor Tom find pleasant weather, 
 
 When lv \\ ho all commands 
 Shall give, to call life's crew together, 
 
 »rd to pipe all hands. 
 I hill <1 ath, who kiiigs and tiirs despatches, 
 
 In rain Tom's life has doff'd ; 
 For, though his body's under hatches, 
 
 I lis soul has gone aloft* Dibdti> 
 
 THE VOICE OF HER I LOVE. 
 
 How sweet, at close of silent eve, 
 The harp's responsive sound ! 
 
 flow sweet the vows that ne'er deceive, 
 And deeds by virtue crown'd! 
 
 How tweet to sit beneath a tree, 
 In some delightful grove ! 
 
 But, oh ! more soft, more sweet to me 
 The voice of her I love ! 
 
 V^lii dj 'er she joins the village train, 
 
 To hail the new-born day, 
 Mellifluous notes compose each strain. 
 
 "Which zephyrs waft away. 
 
MIXSTREl.. 
 
 The frown* of fj»te I'd calmly tear, 
 In humble sphere to move, 
 
 Content and bkss'd whene'er I hear 
 The voice of her I love. 
 
 THE DUSKY NIGHT. 
 The dusky night rides down the skA , 
 
 And ushers in the mom ; 
 The hounds all join the glorious en . 
 The huntsman winds his horn, 
 And a hunting we will go, 
 A hunting we will go, 
 A hunting we will go, 
 A hunting we will go. 
 
 The wife around her husband throws 
 Her arms to make him stay ; 
 
 My dear, it rains, it hails, it blows ; 
 You cannot hunt to day. 
 
 Yet a hunting we will go, &c. 
 
 Sly Reynard now like lightning flie^ 
 
 And sweeps across the vale ; 
 But when the hounds too near he spies, 
 
 He drops his bushy tail. 
 Then a hunting we will go, 8cc. 
 Fond Echo seems to like the sport, 
 
 And joins the jovial cry; 
 The woods, the hills, the sound retort. 
 
 And music fills the sky. 
 When a hunting we will gc. Beet 
 
.MINSTREL. 
 
 \t last his strength to faintness worn, 
 
 Poor Reynard ceases flight; 
 I li< n hungry, homeward we return, 
 
 lu feast away the night. 
 And a drinking we will go. &i-. 
 
 >\ ial hunters in the morn, 
 Pn pare then for the chase ; 
 Rise at the sounding of the horn. 
 tnd health with sport embrace. 
 When a hunting we will go, Sec, 
 
 THE WOODPECKER. 
 
 1 km w by the smoke that so gracefully curl'd 
 
 Abo\ c the green elms, that a cottage was near ; 
 And 1 said, 4t If there's peace to be found in the world 
 
 A heart that was humble might hope for it here." 
 Twas noo. . and on flowers that languished around 
 
 In silence reposM the voluptuous bee ; 
 Jv. n leaf was at rest, and I heard not a sound, 
 
 But the woodpecker tapping the hollow beech tree. 
 
 And hire, in this lone little wood, I exclaim'd, 
 
 With a maid who was lovely to soul and to eye, 
 Who would blush when I prais'd her, and weep is I 
 blanrd, 
 
 How bless'd could I live, and how calm could I die. 
 By the shade of yon sumach, whose red berry dips 
 
 In the gush of the fountain, how sweet to recline ! 
 And to know that I sigh'd upon innocent lips, 
 
 Which ne'er had been sigh'd on by any but mine. 
 
 T.Moore. 
 
MINSTREL. 
 
 DULCE DOMUM. 
 
 Deep in a vale a cottage stood, 
 
 Oft sought by travellers weary, 
 And oft it prov'd the bless 'd abode 
 
 Of Edward and of Mary. 
 For her he'd chase the mountain goat, 
 
 O'er Alps and Glaciers bounding ; 
 For her the chamois he would shoot, 
 
 Dark horrors all surrounding ; 
 But evening come, he sought his home, 
 
 While anxious, lovely woman, 
 She hail'd the sight, and every night, 
 The cottage rung, 
 As they sung, 
 Oh I Dulce, dulce Domum ! 
 
 But soon, alas .' this scene of bliss 
 
 Was changed to prospects dreary ; 
 For war and honour rous'd each Swiss, 
 
 And Edward left his Mary. 
 To bold St. Gothard's height he rush'd, 
 
 'Gainst Gallia's force contending, 
 And, by unequal numbers crush'd, 
 
 He died his land defending. 
 The evening comes, he sought not home, 
 
 Whilst she (distracted woman,) 
 ( rrown wiid with dread, now seeks him dead, 
 And hears the knell, 
 That bids farewell 
 To Dulce, dulce Domum. Reynold?. 
 
MINSTREL. 
 
 WHILE GAZING ON THE MOON'S LIGHT 
 
 Ail' — *' Oona^h." 
 While gazing on the moon's light, 
 
 A moment from her smile I turn'd 
 1*0 look at orbs that, more bright, 
 In lone and distant glory burn'd. 
 But too far 
 Each proud star, 
 For me to feel its warming flame, 
 Much more dear 
 That mild sphere, 
 Which near our planet smiling camr 
 Thus Mary dear, be thou mine own, 
 
 While brighter eyes unheeded play, 
 I'll love those moonlight looks alone, 
 Which bless my home, and guide my waj 
 
 The day had sunk in dim showers, 
 
 But midnight now. w ith lustre meek, 
 Illumin'd all the pale flowers, 
 Like hope that lights a mourner's cheek. 
 I said, (while 
 The moon's smile 
 Play'd o'er the stream in dimpling bliss.. 
 •' T he moon looks, 
 On many brooks, 
 The brook can see no moon but this ;' 
 And thus I thought our fortunes run, 
 
 For many a lover looks to thee, 
 While oh ! I feel but one, 
 One Mary in the world for me. T. Moon 
 
2 MINSTREL. 
 
 LOVE'S YOUNG DREAM. 
 Oh ! the days are gone when beauty bright 
 
 My heart's chain wove ; 
 When my dream of life, from morn till night 
 
 Was Sove, still love J 
 
 New hope may bloom, 
 
 And days may come, 
 
 Of milder, calmer beam ; 
 
 But there's nothing half so sweet in life, 
 
 As love's young dream ! 
 Oh .' there's nothing half so sweet in life, 
 
 As love's young dream ! 
 Though the bard to purer flame may soar, 
 
 V'hrn wild youth's past: 
 Though he win the wise, who frown "d beffcr 
 
 To smile at last : 
 
 He'll never meet 
 
 A joy so sweet 
 
 In all his noon of fame, 
 \s when first he sung to woman's ear 
 
 His soul felt dame, 
 And, at every close, she blush'd to hear 
 
 The one lov'd name ! 
 
 Oh ! that hallow'd form is ne'er forgot, 
 
 Which first love trae'd ; 
 Still it lingering haunts the greenest spot . 
 On memory's waste I 
 'Tw as odour fled 
 \a soon as shed. 
 
MINSTREL. : 
 
 l'was morning's winded dream ! 
 
 I was a lipfht that D( Vr can shine again, 
 
 On lift 's dull stream ! 
 
 < )h .' 'twas lipfht that reYr can shine again 
 
 On life's duJl stream. 
 
 THE COTTAGER'S DAUGHTER. 
 Down in the valley my father dwells, 
 
 S< e, yonder, on brother he's leaning ; 
 All that our garden produces he sells, 
 
 And I help a little by gleaning: 
 I must away, by break of day. 
 
 My bucket to fill from the water ; 
 ^id earn all I can for my father, poor man, 
 
 For I am his only daughter. 
 
 Ladies have offered me places three, 
 
 And bid me choose which I had rather, 
 But this was the answer they got from me, 
 
 Dear ma'am, only think of my father ; 
 What would he do, were Jane with you, 
 
 Forgetting the duty he taught her, 
 O ! how would he griev< . if the cot I should leave , 
 
 For I am his only daughter. 
 William, who bought, with the field below, 
 
 The three pretty cows of old Mary, 
 Shortly w ill want, (for he told me so.) 
 
 A w ift to look after the dairv ; 
 He lives so near my father dear, 
 
 Its only just over the water ; 
 Should he ask me go, sure I cannot say no, 
 
 For I am his only daughter. 
 
74 MINSTREL. 
 
 IS THERE A HEART THAT NEVER LOV'D 
 
 Is there a heart that never lov'd, 
 Or felt soft woman's sigh ; 
 
 Is there a man can mark unmov'd, 
 Dear woman's tearful eye '. 
 
 Oh ! hear him to some distant shore, 
 Or solitary cell, 
 
 Where nought but savage monsters roar- 
 Where love ne'er deigned to dwell. 
 
 For there's a charm in woman's eye, 
 
 A language in her tear ; 
 A spell in ever) 7 sacred sigh, 
 
 To man, to virtue dear ; 
 And he who can resist her smiles, 
 
 With brutes alone should live, 
 Nor taste that joy which care beguiles* 
 
 That joy her virtues give. 
 
 NOTHING AT ALL. 
 In Derry down dale when I wanted a mate, 
 I went with my daddy, a courting of Kate ; 
 With my nosegay so fine, in my holy-day clothes, 
 My hands in my pockets a courting I goes. 
 The weather was cold, and my boson w as hot, 
 My heart in a gallop — my mare in a trot- 
 Now I was so bashful, so loving withal. 
 My tongue stuck to my mouth, and I said 
 
 Nothing at alt. 
 
MINSTREL. 7$ 
 
 •.» h. ii 1'i-anictoth" house, I look'd bashful and grum, 
 l 'h« knocker I held twfartnvy fingei and thumb, 
 
 i * 1 1 tli- knocker, Eat ihow'd her chin, 
 She chuckled and buckled, I bow'd and went in. 
 Now I -a as so l>ashful as bashful couid b , 
 Ami Kitty, poor soul, was as bashful as me ; 
 S<> I laughM, and I grinn'd, and I let my hat fall, 
 •cratched my head, and said 
 
 Nothing at all. 
 
 If bashful was I, she more bashful the maid, 
 Sh« rimper'd and ogh'd, with her apron strings play'd; 
 The old folks impath nt to have the thiog done, 
 fcgrei d th: t nn Kiti\ and I should bi one. 
 So, th n \\t young- ones both nodded consent, 
 l li- n hand in hand to gel married we went, 
 Wb »i we aiur* red the parson, in voices so small, 
 rce could bare heard u->, say 
 
 Nothing at all. 
 
 But mark what a change in the course of a week, 
 My Kate ltft off blushing, I boldly could speak— 
 Could phi\ with my Kitty, and laugh at a jest, 
 Ind Kate could talk, ay too, as well as the best. 
 And ta'k'd of past follies, we oft have declar'd 
 To encourage young folks, who at wedlock arescai'd. 
 For if to your aid some assurance you call, 
 You may kiss and get married, and it's 
 
 Nothing at all. 
 
 HERE AWA, THERE AWA. 
 * a, there awa, here awa Willie ; 
 Here awa, there awa, haud awa hame. 
 
76 MINSTREL. 
 
 Lang hae I sought thee, dear hae I bought thee. 
 Now I hae gotten my Willie again. 
 
 Through the lang muir I hae follow'd my Willie, 
 Through the lang muir I hae follow'd him hame ; 
 
 Whate'er betide us, nought shall divide us ; 
 Love now rewards a' my sorrow and pain. 
 
 Here awa, there awa. here awa, Willie, 
 Here awa there awa, haud awa hame ; 
 
 Come, love, believe me, naething can grieve me : 
 Ilka thing pleases when Willie's at hame. 
 
 Gin ye meet my love, kiss her and clap her, 
 And gin ye meet my love, dinna think shame : 
 
 f^in ye meet my love, kiss her and clap her, 
 And show her the way to haud awa hame. 
 
 THE MAIL COACH. 
 Come listen to my story, 
 Now seated in my glory. 
 
 We make no longer stay ; 
 A bottle of good sherry 
 Has made us all quite merry, 
 
 Let Momus rule the day— 
 We hearty all and well are, 
 Drive to the White Horse Cellar. 
 
 Get a snack before we go — 
 Bring me a leg of mutton, 
 I'm as hungry as a glutton, 
 
 Some gravy soup— hallo I 
 
MINSTREL. 77 
 
 Spoken— \Vh> , waiter— coming, sir— Make haste, do; 
 
 I shall lose my place .'—Coming in a moment, sir, just 
 take cart- of No. 1. Ten minutes good yet, sir. 1 liope 
 your honor will remember honest Dick the hostler.— 
 Remember! damme, I shall never forget you.— Why, 
 
 II aiter, and be damn'd to you, is my soup ready ? Just 
 put on the gridiron — Joseph, vill you let me have some 
 table beer !— .lust put into the pot, ma'am.— Waiter.— 
 Sir.— A iv my steaks ready ?— No, Sir ; but your chops 
 aiv. A ny passengera for the Glo'ster Mail ? Yes, young 
 man, I'm going by the Glo'ster Mail, the- moment I 
 can get my change.— Can't Avait for your change ; if 
 I'm not at Lombard street by seven o'clock to receive 
 the bags, I shall get pull'd over the coals. (Horn.) 
 
 Away, away, we rattle, 
 Such crow ds of men and cattle ; 
 Crack whip, they dash away, 
 Tin -j dash away, they dash away. 
 
 What a cavalcade of coaches 
 On every side approaches, 
 
 What work for man and beast ! 
 To have a little drop, sir, 
 We first of all must stop, sir, 
 
 Then afterwards make haste ; 
 I mount— the whip I crack now, 
 All bustle— what a pack now 
 
 On every side approach ; 
 Now making sad grimaces, 
 All for the want of places, 
 
 They cry— I've lost the coach. 
 Spoken— How 's this ? I'm sure my name was book'd. 
 'ery likely ma'm, but not here.— Mr. Coachman, any 
 »om for two females !— None at all lor females ; this is 
 
78 MINSTREL. 
 
 a male coach. (Laugh.) Tie a handk erchief mmul 
 vour neck Billv. Yes. papa ; give my duty to gnjno. 
 Lama* I will, mv lov , Good bye. papa. Good b e, 
 myk>ve. All right behind, cut em along. (Horn.) 
 Away, aw ay, we rattle, &c. 
 
 Four in hand from Picadilly, 
 Now seated in the dilly, 
 
 Off we scamper all ; 
 What merry wags and railers, 
 "What jolly dogs and sailors, 
 
 Begun to sing and bawl. 
 From every place we start now. 
 Some company depart now, 
 
 And others come no doubt ; 
 For plenty- there's of room now, 
 And any one may come now, 
 
 Four insides and one out. 
 
 Spoken-l sav. you lobster at the helm, have you got 
 any room aboard ?— Plenty of room, my jolly masters ; 
 there's only four inside and a fat common-council man. 
 You've put my trunk into the wrong coach— Never 
 mind ma'am ; 'we shall soon overtake it. Pray madam, 
 an't you sitting on my Welsh wig '. Hold your tongue, 
 you noisy brute you ; you've awoke me out of a com- 
 fort^blt nap. Keep the windows up ; IVe caught a 
 cold and got a stiff neck. Now, if you please sir. well 
 settle legs. Mit all my shoul. madam. Hallo . misses, 
 you cant have that there parrot inside : one tongue s 
 enough for a female. Take care of your heads \}Yhip) 
 and hit 'em twice in a place. (Horn.) 
 Away, away, we rattle, Sec. 
 
MINSTREL. 79 
 
 DOWN THE BURN DAVIE. 
 
 U down tin burn they took their way, 
 
 And through the flowery dale ; 
 His cheek to hers he aft did lay, 
 
 And love was aye the tale. 
 With " Mary, when shall we return, 
 
 Sic pleasures to it new J " 
 <tuoth Mary. " Love, I like the burn, 
 
 And ay shall follow you." Bums, 
 
 SANDY AND JENNY, 
 ome, come, bonny lassie, cried Sandy, awa', 
 
 ither is spinning, and ather's afa', 
 The folks are at work, and the bairns are at play, 
 And ire « ill be married, dear Jenny, to-day. 
 •Stay, stay, bonny laddie, then cried I with speed, 
 I winna. I inunna, go with you bid < d ; 
 
 . should I do so, what would the folks say ? 
 lo w e i anna marry, dear Sandy, to-day. 
 
 . and mind what you do, 
 or Peggy and Patty I gave up f r yen ; 
 
 .: full twelve-month we've '.nfled away, 
 Ind one or the otlu r I'll many to-day. 
 
 ie, fie. lxniny laddie, then cried I again, 
 
 you kiss'd t'other day • th plain: 
 ; aem ribbon dots Patty Ji-»play, 
 nd we canna marry, dear Sandy, to-day. 
 
80 MINSTREL. 
 
 Oh, then, a good-bye, bonny lassie, cried he, 
 For Peggy and Patty are waiting for me ; 
 The kirk is hard bye, and the bells call away, 
 And Peggy or Patty I'll marry to-day. 
 
 Stay, stay, bonny laddie, cried I with a smile. 
 For know t was jesting, indeed, all the while ; 
 Let Peggy go spin, and send Patty away, 
 And we will be married, dear Sandy, to-day. 
 
 A LOVING LOOK FROM SALLY. 
 How happy is the peasant's lot, 
 
 Serene Ins moments flow, 
 Shelter'd in his humble cot, 
 
 He hears the tempest blow. 
 A frugal meal, a faithful wife, 
 
 And children dear possessing, 
 He keeps a steady course thro' life, 
 
 Nor asks a greater bltssing. 
 Daily at the peep of dawn, 
 
 His labour bids him rise ; 
 Whistling o'er the dewy lawn, 
 
 With plodding step he hies. 
 Contentment makes his travel light, 
 
 O'er mountain or thro' valley, 
 No matter, so he meets at night 
 
 A loving look from Sally. Cumberland. 
 
 LASH'D TO THE HELM. 
 In storms, when clouds obscure the sky, 
 And thunders roll, and lightnings fly. 
 
MINSTREL. 
 
 In mid.it of all these dire aim 
 I think, my Sully on thy charmi; 
 The troubled main, 
 The wind and rain, 
 My ardent passion prore ; 
 Lash'd to the helm, 
 Should seas o'erwhelm, 
 I'd think on thee, my lore. 
 
 When rocks appear on every «inV, 
 And art is vain the ship to guide ; 
 In varied shapes when d< ath appeal*, 
 The thought of thee my bosom cfo » 
 
 The troubled main, 
 
 The wind and rain, 
 My ardent passion prove ; 
 
 Lash'd to the helm, 
 
 Should seas o'erwhelm, 
 I'd think on thee, my love. 
 
 But should the gracious powers be kind. 
 Dispel the gloom, and still the wind, 
 And waft me to thy arms once more, 
 Safe to my long-lost native shoie. 
 No more the main 
 I'd tempt again, 
 Lul tender joys improve ; 
 r then with thee 
 Should happy be, 
 A -nd think on nought but lore. 
 F 
 
«2 MINSTREL 
 
 ADAMS AND LIBERTY. 
 Tune— Anacreon in Heaven. 
 Ye sons of Columbia, who bravely have fought 
 
 For those rights, which unstain'd from your sires had 
 descended, 
 May you long taste the blessings your valour has bought, 
 And youi' sons reap the soil which your fathers de— 
 
 : ^n of mild Peace, 
 /ur nation increase, 
 With the glory of Rome and the wisdom of Greece. 
 And ne'er shall the sons of Columbia be slaves, 
 While the earth bean a plant, or the sea rolls its 
 waves. 
 
 In a clime, whose rich vales feed the marts of the 
 world, 
 w hose shores are unshaken by Europe's commotion. 
 The trident of Commerce should never be hurl'd, 
 To incense the legitimate powers of the ocean. 
 But should pirates invade, 
 Though in thunder array'd, 
 Let your cannon declare the free charter of trade, 
 the sons, &c. 
 
 The fame of our arms, of our laus the mild sway, 
 
 Had justly enobled our nation in story, 
 Till the dark clouds of faction obscur'd our young day, 
 d enveloped the sun of American glory. 
 But let tra^' 
 Vi ho their country have sold, 
 
MINSTREL* 8* 
 
 And barter'd their C*od for his image in gold, 
 That ne'er will the sons, &.C 
 
 While France her huge limbs bathes recumbent io 
 blood, 
 And Society's base threats with wide desolution - r 
 May Peace like the dove, whoreturn'd from the flood r 
 Find an ark of abode in our mild constitution. 
 But though peace is our aim, 
 Yet the boon we disclaim. 
 If bought by our sov'reignty, Justice or Fame, 
 For ne'er shall the sons, &c. 
 
 'Tis the five of "the flint, each American warms ; 
 
 Let Home's haughty victors beware of collision: 
 Lei them bring all the vassals of Europe inarms, 
 We'iv a world by ourselves, and disdain a division- 
 While with patriot pride, 
 To our laws we're allied, 
 No fbe can subdue us, no faction divide. 
 For ne'er shall the sons, &c. 
 
 Our mountains are crown'd with imperial oak, 
 
 Whose roots, like our liberties, ages have nourished, 
 But long ere our nation submits to the yoke, 
 Not a tree shall be left on the field where it rlourish'd, 
 Should invasion impend, 
 Every grove would descend, 
 From the hill-tops they shaded, our shores to defend. 
 For ne'er shall the sons, &c. 
 
 Let our patriots destroy Anarch's pestilent worm ; 
 Lt st our Liberty's growth should be checked by cor- 
 rosion 
 
£4 MINSTREL. 
 
 Then let clouds thicken round us, we heed not the 
 storm ; 
 Our realm fears no shock, but the earth's own explo- 
 sion. 
 
 Foes assail us in vain, 
 Though their Meets bridge the main, 
 For our alters and laws with our tires we'll maintain. 
 For ne'er shall the sons, &c. 
 
 Should the tempest of war overshadow our land, 
 
 Its bolts could ne'er rend freedom's temple asunder; 
 Forunmov'd at its portal would Washington stand, 
 And repulse n ith his breast the assaults of the thun- 
 der! 
 His sword, from the sleep 
 Of its scabbard would leap, 
 And conduct, with its point, ev'ry flash to the deep. 
 For ne'er shall the sons, ccc. 
 
 Let fame to the world sound America's voice ; 
 No intrigues can her sons from their government 
 sever ; 
 Her Pride are her Statesmen— their Larvs are her 
 choice, 
 And shall flourish till Liberty slumbers for ever. 
 Then unite, heart and hand, 
 Like Leonidas' band, 
 And swear to the God of the ocean and land, 
 That ne'er shall the sons of Columbia be slaves, 
 While the earth bears a plant, or the sea rolls its waves. 
 
 li. T. Faine> j 
 
M1XSTR2L. H 
 
 DEAR KATHLEEN. 
 Dear Kathleen, you do doubt, 
 
 Find Bleep how v< ry sweet Vis ; 
 Du s 's bark, aiid cocks have erow'd out, 
 You oever dn am bow late 'tis. 
 .; gay, 
 1 post away. 
 To have w ith j ou a bit of ; 
 On two legs lid 
 Along to bid 
 Good morrow to your night-cap. 
 
 Last night a little boozy. 
 
 With whiskey, ale, and cider, 
 I ask'd young- Betty Blowzy, 
 To let me sit beside her. 
 
 Her anger rose, 
 
 As sour as sloes, 
 The little gipsey cock'd her nose : 
 
 Yet here I've rid 
 
 Along to bid 
 Good morrow to your nie;ht-cap. 
 
 Thee w'let 
 
 Compose so sweet a truckle, 
 They'll tempt you sure to spoil it, 
 Sweet Sail and Bell 
 I've pleas'd you well — 
 But hold— I must'nt kiss and tell, 
 
' MINSTREL, 
 
 So here Fve rid 
 Along, to bid 
 Good morrow to your night-cap. 0'K.eeffe*. 
 
 KITTY OF THE CLYDE. 
 A boat danc'd on Clyde's bonny stream. 
 
 When winds -were rudely blowing-, 
 There sat, what might the goddess seem 
 
 Of the waves, beneath her flowing ; 
 But, no ; a mortal fair was she, 
 
 Surpassing all beside, 
 And youths aspir'd her choice to be— 
 
 Sweet Kitty of the Clyde. 
 
 I saw the boatman spread his sail, 
 
 And, while his daftness noting, 
 The boat was upset by the gale— 
 
 I saw sweet Kitty floating ; 
 I plung'd into the silver wave, 
 
 With Cupid for my guide, 
 And thought my heart well lost to save 
 
 Sweet Kitty of the Clyde. 
 
 But Kitty is a high-bom fair, 
 
 A lowly name I carry, 
 Nor can with lordly thanes compare, 
 
 Who woo the maid to marry ; 
 But she ne'er scornful looks on me, 
 
 And joy may yet betide, 
 Fop hope dares flatter mine shall be 
 
 Sweet Kitty of the Clyde. 
 
IflNSTREL. 
 
 TWEED SIDE. 
 \That beau ties does Flora disclose, 
 
 How sweet are her smiles upon Tweed, 
 Yet Mary's still sweeter than those, 
 
 Both nature and fancy exceed : 
 No daisy nor sweet blushing rose, 
 
 Nor all the gay flowers of the field, 
 Nor Tweed gliding gently through those, 
 
 Such beauty and pleasure does yield. 
 
 The warblers are heard in the grove, 
 
 The linnet, the lark, and the thrush, 
 The blackbird, and sweet cooing dove, 
 
 "With music enchants every bush. 
 Come let us go forth to the mead, 
 
 Let us see how the primroses spring, 
 We'll lodge in some village on Tweed, 
 
 And love while the featherM folks sing. 
 
 How does my love pass the long day ? 
 
 Does Maiy not tend a few sheep ? 
 Do they never carelessly stray, 
 
 Whili -ji ? 
 
 Tweed's murmurs should lull her to rest ; 
 
 Kind nature indulging my bliss, 
 To relieve the soft pains of my breast, 
 
 I'd steal an ambrosial kiss. 
 
 5 Tis she does the virgins excel, 
 No beauty with her may compare ; 
 
 Love's graces around her do dwell, 
 She's fairest, where thousands are fai:. 
 
MINSTREL. 
 
 Say, ehannes, where do thy flocks stray ? 
 
 Oh I tell me, at noon where the) feed ? 
 Shall I seek them on sweet w hiding Tx} , 
 
 Or the pleatanter banks of the I 
 
 MY PRETTY BRUNEI 
 Dear Nancy I have saii'd the world all aorandj, 
 
 And seven long- years been a pov 
 To make for my channel- each/shilling a pound,. 
 
 But now my hard perils- are over. 
 I* re saved from my toils many hundred* in gold, 
 
 The comforts of life to beget ; 
 Have borne in each climate the heat and the cold, 
 
 And all for my pretty bran< 
 Then say, my sweet girl ean you love me ? 
 
 Tho' others may boast of more riclu s than mine, 
 
 And rate my attractions e ? en fewer ; 
 At their jeers and ill-nature I'll scorn to repine. 
 
 Can they boast of a heart that is truer J 
 Or, will they for thee plough the hazardous main ? 
 
 Brave the seasons both stormy and 
 If not, why I'll do it again and ag-ain, 
 
 All for my pretty brunette, 
 Then say, my sweet girl, &.C. 
 
 When order'd afar, in pursuit of the foe, 
 
 I sigh'd at the bodings of fancy, 
 Which fain would pursuade me I might b« bid low, 
 
 And ah I never more see my Nancy ; 
 
MINSTREL •« 
 
 Rut hope, like an angel, soon banished the thought, 
 
 And bade- jik' such nonsense forget : 
 I took the advice, and undauntedly fought, 
 
 And all fur my pretty brunette, 
 Then say, my sweet girl, ccc. 
 
 YE LING'RING WINDS. 
 Ye lingering winds that feebly blow,. 
 
 Why thus impede my way ; 
 Why moves the lazy ship so slow, 
 
 When Mary mourns my stay : 
 For when site bade me last adieu, 
 
 cried, ** Be true," 
 hen she bade, &c. 
 
 When as the midnight watch I keep, 
 I vk \v the sparkling sea ; 
 
 round my messmates careless 6leep, 
 I fondly think on thee ; 
 
 paints the tast adieu, 
 When Mary wept, and cried, u Be true." 
 Remembrance paints, Sec. 
 
 T!m>' I be distant as th< 
 
 Tho' furious tempests foam, 
 1 ho' billows mount, tho' thunders roll, 
 No distance, time or storm, 
 
 le can banish from my view, 
 Vfary went, ami cried, " Be true." 
 Thi set ne^&e. 
 
90 MINSTREL. 
 
 Oft up the shrouds my steps are borne, 
 
 I take my airy stand, 
 And oft my longing- eyes I turn, 
 
 And look in vain for land : 
 Dejected I rejoin the crew, 
 And fondly hope my Mary's true, 
 Dejected I rejoin, ccc. 
 
 Come then, ye briskly pleasing gales, 
 For once auspicions prove ; 
 
 Come, swell the bosoms of my sails, 
 And waft me to my love ; 
 
 Moor'd in her arms, to toils adieu, 
 
 If still I find my Mary's true. 
 Moord in her arms, &c. 
 
 PAST MASTER'S SONG. 
 Let Masonry, from Pole to Pole, 
 
 Her sacred laws expand, 
 Far as the mighty waters roll, 
 
 To wash remotest lands— 
 That Virtue has not left mankind, 
 
 Her social maxims prove ; 
 For stamp'd upon the Masion's mind, 
 
 Are Unity and Love. 
 
 Ascend to her native sky, 
 
 Let Masonry increase ; 
 A glorious pillar rais'd on high. 
 
 Integrity its base. 
 
MINSTREL. 
 
 Peace adds to olive boughs entwin'd, 
 
 An emblematic dove, 
 As stamp'd upon the ^Mason's mind, 
 
 Is Unity and Love. 
 
 TO LIBERTY'S ENRAPTUR'D SIGHT. 
 
 T^ liberty* < nraptur'd sight, 
 
 When first Columbia shone ; 
 She hail'd it from her starry height, 
 
 And smiling, claim'd it as her own — 
 41 Fair land," the goddess eried," be free ! 
 
 Soil of my choice I to fame arise l n 
 She spoke, and heaven's minstrelsy, 
 
 Swell'd the lotid chorus through the skies. 
 All hail, for ever great and free, 
 Columbia— land of liberty ! 
 
 Columbia's genius heard the strain, 
 
 And proudly rais'd her drooping crest, 
 Her sons impatient fill'd the plain, 
 
 Where panted high each patriot's breast. 
 Their fetters they indignant spurn'd, 
 
 They wav'd their falchions high in air, 
 And where the goddess' alter burn'd, 
 
 From kneeling warriors rose the prayer — 
 To die be ours, if thou art free, 
 Columbia— land of liberty ! 
 
 War blew her clarion loud and long, 
 
 Oppression led his legions on ; 
 To battle rush'd the patriot throng, 
 
 And ioon the glorious day was won— 
 
93 MINSTREL. 
 
 Each bleeding freeman sniil'd in death ; 
 
 Flying he saw his country's foes, 
 And wafted by his latest breath, 
 To heaven the cheerful psean rose- 
 Content I die— for thou art free ! 
 Columbia— land of liberty ! 
 And shall we ever dim the fires, 
 
 That flame on freedom's hallowed shrines ! * 
 Shall glory's children shame their sires ! 
 
 Shall cowards spring from hero's loins ! 
 No— by the blood our fathers shed, 
 O freedom I in thy holy cause : 
 When streaming from the martyr'd dead, 
 It seaPd and sanctified thy laws— ( i 
 We swear to keep thee great and free \ 
 Qolumbia— land of liberty I 
 
 BRIGHT PHOEBUS. 
 Bright Phoebus has mounted the chariot of day, 
 And the horns and the hounds call each sportsman 
 
 aw ay ; 
 Thro' woods and thro' meadows with speed how they 
 
 bound, 
 While health, rosy health, is in exercise^bund. 
 
 Hark away, is the word, to the sound of the horn, 
 
 And echo, blithe echo ! makes jovial the morn. 
 
 Each hill and each valley is lovely to view, 
 While puss flies the covert, and dogs quick pursue ; 
 Behold where she flies o'er the wide spreading plain. 
 While the loud op'ning pack pursue her amain. 
 Hark away, &cc. 
 
MINSTREL. M 
 
 At length puss is caught, nnd lies panting for breath, 
 And the shout of the huntsman's the signal for death ; 
 No joys can delight like the sports of the field, 
 To hunting-, all pleasure and pastime must yield. 
 Hark away, &c. 
 
 IX IRELAND SO FRISKEY. 
 Oh: in Ireland so frisky, with sweet girls and whiskey, 
 We manage to keep care and sorrow aloof; 
 Our whirKgig revels, made all the blue devils 
 
 >nt \\ nh the smoke, through a hole in the roof. 
 
 Ill remember, one foggy November, 
 My mother cried, " go make your fortune my lad ; 
 Go bother the ninnies, clean out of their guineas," 
 Away then I scamper'd from Ballinafad. 
 
 Oh I to seek for promotion, I walk'd the wide ocean, 
 ipwreck'd, and murder'd, and sold for a slave ; 
 Over mountains and livers w as pelted to shivers, 
 And met on this land with a watery grave. 
 Bin. now safe on dry land, in this blessed island, 
 Oh ! whiskey and cubba will make my heart glad ; 
 To the sweet flowing Liffey, I'm off in a giffey, 
 a whack for old Ireland and Ballinafad. 
 
 And its oh ! from this station to that blessed nation, 
 Again Master Murtock shall visit your shore : 
 Where I'll flourish so gaily my sprig of shillelah, 
 Long life to the girls and to whiskey galore. 
 O, then all my cousins will run out by dozens, 
 And out too will hobble old mammy and dad ; 
 When at dinner they "11 treat us with mealy potatoei, 
 And whiskey dislill'd at sweet Ballinafad. 
 
04 MINSTREL. 
 
 My American beauty with skin rather sooty, 
 
 With fun and fandango will join in our jigs, 
 
 While she'll cry with a titter, " the room's in a litter,'* 
 
 Arrah, darling, says I," tis a litter of pigs," 
 
 Oh! then all the girls will conge and giggle, 
 
 And dance all around as if they were mad ; 
 
 While the bells in the steeple will tell all the people, 
 
 Arrah, Murtock's come back to sweet Ballinafad. 
 
 THE BAY OF BISCAY O! 
 
 Loud roar'd the dreadful thunder, 
 
 The rain a deluge show'rs I 
 The clouds were rent asunder, 
 By light'nings vivid pow'r; I 
 The night both drear and dark, 
 Our poor devoted bark, 
 Till next day, 
 There she lay, 
 In the bay of Biscay O ! 
 
 Now dash'd upon the billows, 
 Our op'ning timbers creak ; 
 Each fears a wat'ry pillow, 
 None stop the dreadful leak ! 
 To cling the siipp'ry shrouds, 
 Each breathless seaman crowds, 
 As she lay, 
 Till next day, 
 In the bay of Biscay, O ! 
 
 At length the wish'd for morrow, 
 Broke thro' the hazy sky ; 
 
MINSTREL 
 
 Absorb'd in silent sorrow, 
 Each heav'd the bitter sigh ; 
 The dismal wreck to view, 
 Struck honor to the crew, 
 As she lay, 
 On that day, 
 In the bay of Biscay, O .' 
 
 Her yielding timbers sever, 
 
 Her pitchy seams are rent ; 
 When heav'n all bounteous ever, 
 It boundless mercy ientj 
 A sail in right appears, 
 
 I it with three cheers I 
 sail, 
 With the gale, 
 From the bay of Biscay, O [ 
 
 JUG, JUG, JUG, 
 I've liv'd a life of some few years, 
 
 I'm fifiy-four to-morrow ; 
 For every smile Pre shed three tears, 
 
 I nusmm-lingjoy^ith sorrow, 
 Now wiser grown, I scorn to cry, 
 
 Though tears are wet and I am dry, 
 And if a drop IVe in my eye, 
 And ifa drop I've in my eye, 
 
 Tuwhen I hear the glasses line' 
 
MINSTREL. 
 
 The friend I trusted, lack a day. 
 
 Most scurvily abus'd me ; 
 The wife I married ran away, 
 
 With him who thus did use me. 
 My grief too big- to let me cry, 
 
 Could only tell my sorrows dry, 
 And if a drop I've in my eye, 
 And if a drop I've in my eye, 
 'This when, 8cc. 
 
 Yet think not tho" some folks are bad, 
 111 usage makes me sulking ; 
 
 At duty's call old Jack's the lad, 
 "Who ne'er was fond of skulking ; 
 
 When love of country wets the eye, 
 Like ev'ry tar my best I'll try, 
 
 To drub the foe when I am dry, 
 
 To drub the foe when I am dry. 
 Drink friends again, away care fling, 
 While jug, jug, jug, the bottles sing. 
 
 SOFT FANCY. 
 
 In airy dreams soft fancy flies, 
 
 My absent love to see : 
 And with the early dawn I rise, 
 
 Dear youth to think on thee. 
 
 How swiftly flew the rosy hours, 
 While love and hope were new, 
 
 Sweet as the breath of opening flowers, 
 But ah ! as transient too. 
 
MINSTREL. " 
 
 FLOW ON, THOU SHINING RIVER. 
 Flow on, thou shining nver, 
 
 But ere thou reach the sen, 
 Seek Ella's bower and give her 
 
 The wreath I fling- o'er thee ; 
 And tell her thus, if she'll be mine, 
 
 The current of our lives s^hall be, 
 With joys along their course to shine, 
 
 Like those sweet flowers on thee. 
 
 But if, in wand'ring thither, 
 
 ThoufintTst she mocks my prayer, 
 Then leave those wreaths to wither 
 
 Upon the cold bank there ; 
 And tell her thus, when youth is o'er, 
 
 Her lone and loveless charms shall be 
 Thrown upon life's weedy shore, 
 
 Like those sweet flowers from thee. 
 
 r. Moore, 
 
 ALL THAT'S BRIGHT MUST FADE. 
 All that's bright must fade, 
 
 The brightest still the fleetest, 
 All that's sweet was made 
 
 But to be lost when sweetest ; 
 Stars that shine and fall, 
 
 The flow'r that drops in springing, 
 These, alas! are types of all 
 
 To whioh our hearts are clinging, 
 G 
 
MINSTREL. 
 
 Who would seek, or prize 
 
 Delights that end in aching ? 
 Who would trust to ties 
 
 That ev'ry hour are breaking I 
 Better far to be 
 
 In utter darkness lying, 
 Than be blest with light, and see 
 
 That light for ever flying. 
 All that's, &c. 
 
 WILLIAM OF THE FERRY. 
 Near Clyde's gay streams, there liv'd a maid, 
 
 Whose mind was chaste and pure ; 
 Content she lived a humble life, 
 
 Belov'd by all who knew her ; 
 Protected 'neath her parents roof, 
 
 Her time pass'd on so merry, 
 She lov'd, and was belov'd again, 
 
 By WiJliam of the ferry. 
 
 From morning dawn till set of sun, 
 
 Poor William lahour'd hard, 
 And when at evening's glad return, 
 
 How sweet was his reward ; 
 With heart so light unto her cot, 
 
 He tripp'd so blithe and merry, 
 All daily toil was soon forgot, 
 
 By William of the fern-. 
 
 With joy their parents gave consent, 
 And haii'd the bridal day. 
 
MINSTREL. 
 
 Ere it avrir'd the press-gang carne, 
 
 Anil forc'd poor Will away : 
 He found resistance was in vain, 
 
 They dragg'd him from his wherry, 
 I ne'er shall see my love again, 
 
 Cried William of the ferry. 
 
 Loud blew the angry winds around, 
 
 When scarce a league from shore, 
 The boat upset, the ruffian crew, 
 
 Soon sunk to rise no more. 
 But William fearless hrav'd the waves, 
 
 And safely reach'd his wherry ; 
 Peace was proclaim';!, and Jane's now bless'd, 
 
 With William of the ferry. 
 
 THE COTTAGE ON THE MOOR. 
 My mam is no more, and my dad's in his grave, 
 
 Little orphans are sister and I, sadly poor, 
 Industry our wealth, and no dwelling we have, 
 
 But yon neat little cottage that stands on the moor. 
 
 The lark's early song does to labor invite, 
 Contented we just keep the wolf from the door; 
 
 And, Phcebus retiring, trip home with delight, 
 To our neat little cottage that stands on the moor. 
 
 Our meals are but homely, mirth sweetens the cheer, 
 
 Affection's our inmate, the guest we adore ; 
 And heart-ease and health make a palace appear 
 . Of our neat little cottage that stands on the moor. 
 
100 MINSTREL. 
 
 THE VICAR AND MOSES. 
 At the sign of the horse, old Spintext, of course, 
 
 Each night took his pipe and his pot, 
 O'er a jorum of nappy, quit pleasant and happy, 
 Was plac'd this canonical sot. 
 
 Tol de rol de rol lol de rol la. 
 
 : The evening* was dark, when in came the clerk, 
 With reverence due and submission ; 
 First strok'd his cravat, then twiiTd round hi3 hat, 
 And bowing, preferr'd his petiton. 
 
 I 'I'm come, sir,' said he, c to beg, look, d'ye see, 
 
 Of your reverend worship and glory, 
 i To inter a poor baby, with as much speed as may he, 
 
 And I'll walk with the lanthorn before ye.' 
 
 " The body we'll bury, but pray where's the hurry ?" 
 * Why Lord, sir, the corpse it does stay ;? 
 
 B You fool hold your peace, since miracles cease, 
 A corpse, Moses, can't run away." 
 
 Then Moses he smil'd, saying, 'sir, a small child, 
 j Cannot long delay your intentions ;' 
 M Why that's true, by St. Paul, a child that is small 
 Can never enlarge its dimensions. 
 
 ISring Moses some beer, and bring me some, d'ye hear I 
 
 1 hate to be calfd from my liquor, 
 Come Moses, the king ; 'tis a scandalous thing, 
 
 Such a subject should be but a vicar.'' 
 Then Moses he spoke ; l Sir, 'tis past twelve o'clock, 
 
 Besides there's a terrible shower ;' 
 
MINSTREL, 101 
 
 *\Vhy>!» ce the clock'.hu struck twelve* 
 
 I'm sure it can nerer strike more. 
 
 . my dear friend, this lesson attend, 
 Which to say and to swear I'll be bold, 
 That the corpse, snow or rain, can't endanger, that's 
 plain ; 
 Kut perhaps you or I may take cold." 
 
 Th«.n Moses went on ; ' Sir, the clock has struck one* 
 
 Pray, master, lookup at the hand ;" 
 " Why, it ne'er can strike less, 'tis lolly to press 
 
 A man to walk on that can't stand/' 
 
 At length, hat and cloak old Orthodox took, 
 But first cramm'd his jaw with a quid ; 
 
 Each tipp'd oft' a gill, for fear they should chill, 
 And t: n side by side. 
 
 When come to the grave, the clerk hum'd a stave, 
 While the surplice was wrapt round the priest ; 
 10 droll was the figure of Moses and Vicar, 
 That the parish still talk of the jest. 
 
 " Good people, let's pray, put the corpse t'other way, 
 
 Or perchance I shall over it stumble ; 
 'Tis best to take care, tho' the sages declare, 
 
 A mortuum caput can't tremble. 
 
 Woman that's of a man born ; that's wrong, the leafs 
 torn : 
 
 A man, that is born of a woman, 
 Can't continue an hour, but is cut down like a flower, 
 
 You see, Moses, death spareth no man. 
 
102 MINSTREL. 
 
 Here Moses, do look, what a confounded book, 
 Sure the letters are turn'd upside down : 
 
 Such a scandalous print, sure the devil is in't, 
 That a blockhead should print for the crown. 
 
 Pr ythee, Moses, do read, for I cannot proceed, 
 And bury the corpse in my stead." 
 ('Amen ! amen !') 
 " Why, Moses, you're wrong, pray hold still your 
 tongue, 
 You've taken the tail for the head. 
 
 * O where's thy sting, death ?" put the corpse in the 
 earth, 
 For, believe me, 'tis terrible weather." 
 So the corpse was interr'd, without praying a word, 
 And away they both stagger'd together, 
 Singing, tol de rol lol de rol la. 
 
 WHEN BIBO WENT DOWN. 
 When Bibo went down to the regions below, 
 Where Lethe and Styx round eternity flow. 
 He wak'd in the boat, and he would be row'd back, 
 Tor his soul it was thirsty and wanted some sack. 
 But Charon replied, you were drunk when you died. 
 And ne'er felt the pains that to death are allied ; 
 Take me back, replied Bibo, I mind not the pain, 
 And if I was drunk let me die once again. 
 
 Forget, replied Charon, those regions of strife, 
 Drink of Lethe divine, 'tis the fountain of life, 
 
! REL. 10* 
 
 Where the nml is new born, and all past is a dream, 
 FA-n th^ gods themselves sip of the care-drowning 
 
 stream ; 
 Th- god* ! replied Bibo— Drink water who will, 
 
 : ...tals Til ever fulfil : 
 So prate not to me of your Lethe divine, 
 Our Lethe on earth is a bumper of wine. 
 
 At length i r . im .Id Cerberus gave a loud roar. 
 
 When the crazy old bark struck the Stygian shore ; 
 
 Then Bibo got up and he stagger'd to land, 
 
 And he jostled the- ghosts as they stood on the strand. 
 
 Says Cha in to rebel, 
 
 For you've banish'd from earth, and are now in hell ; 
 
 That's a truth, replied Bibo, I know by this sign, 
 
 For 'tis hell upon earth to be wanting of wine. 
 
 AND HAS SHE THEN FAIL'D. 
 And has she then faifd in her truth ? 
 
 The beautiful maid I adoro ; 
 Shall I never again hear her voice. 
 
 Nor see her lov'd form any more I 
 No, no, no, I 3hall ne'er se,e her more. 
 
 A h, Selima, cruel you prove, 
 
 Yet sure my hard lot you'll bewail ; 
 
 I could not presume you would love, 
 Yet pity I hoped would prevail, 
 
 And since hatred alone I inspire, 
 
 Life henceforth is not worth my tare, 
 
 Death now is my only desire, 
 I give myifclf up to despair. 
 
, MINSTREL. 
 
 THE CORONATION. 
 At my sweet home in our village. 
 
 When we have done our I 
 The barber every night does read 
 
 The news to each good neighbour ; 
 I heard it all and did not stay, 
 
 For fathers approbation, 
 But started off to Lunnun town, 
 
 To see the Coronation; 
 When here, I got across the bttdg s 
 
 I felt myself quite fluster d. 
 To see all around about the town, 
 Such flocks of people muster d ; 
 But howsoraedevev in the crowd, 
 
 I got myself a station, 
 And there I waited anxiously 
 
 To see the Coronation; 
 Somehow ■ trooper's prancing hor,e, 
 
 Got frighten'd at a dandy, 
 And caper d in among the crowd, 
 
 So frolicsome and randy ; 
 
 So I was carried off my legs, 
 
 And shoved on elevation, 
 
 Where I got a seat for nought, to see 
 
 The famous Coronation. 
 
 I wt me down so very still. 
 And no one came to rout me, 
 
 1 slily cast my eyei upon 
 Tha Ladies round about me j 
 
MINSTREL. 
 
 The crowd it was so very great, 
 
 Put all in a prespi ration, 
 And melted all the red and white 
 
 At the famous Coronation. 
 Ju^t at the time I do declare, 
 
 Procession was beginning, 
 1 saw dukes and nobles looking blue, 
 
 And lankce lords a grinning ; 
 1 simply asked for the king, 
 
 When a man wi' irritation, 
 Says, you're a very pretty fowl 
 
 To come to Coronation. 
 
 then the king himself did come, 
 Dressed out so fine, O dear me ! 
 
 1 never had in all my life, 
 A king so very near me ; 
 
 ciously he made a bow, 
 ■i ••, in congregation, 
 £o I were token notice of 
 At famous Coronation. 
 
 When this I found at end, thinks I, 
 
 I've see'd all that I can see, 
 V hen out 1 got, and then I found, 
 
 I'd paid dear for my fancy ; 
 j lost a sovereign and my purse, 
 
 And on examination, 
 My watch that ne'er would go before, 
 
 Gad went at Coronation. 
 
 Although I lost my money purse, 
 And thief mv pockets fumbling, 
 
MINSTREL. 
 
 You may'nt suppose that ever I 
 Do give rny mind to grumbling ; 
 
 I like the sight so very well, 
 Without the leastest hesitation, 
 
 I'd just another sov'reign give, 
 To see another Coronation. 
 
 LOGAN BRAES. 
 O Logan sweetly didst thou glide, 
 That day I was my Willie's bride ; 
 And years since ye hae o'er us run, 
 Like Logan to the simmer sun. 
 But now thy t flow ; ry banks appear 
 Like drumly winter dark and drear, 
 While my dear lad maun face his faes, 
 Far, far frae me and Logan braes; 
 
 Again the merry month o' May, 
 
 Has made our hills and valleys gay ; 
 
 The birds rejoice in leafy bow'rs ; 
 
 The bees hum round the breathing fiow'rs : 
 
 Blythc morning lifts his rosy eye, 
 
 And evening's tears are tears of joy ; 
 
 My soul, delightless, a' surveys, 
 
 While Willie's far frae Logan braes. 
 
 Within yon milk-white hawthorn bush, 
 Amang her nestlings sits the thrush ; 
 Herfaithfu' mate will share her toil, 
 Or wi' his sang her cares beguile : 
 But 1 wi' my tweet nurselings here, 
 Nae mate to help, nae mate to cheer, 
 
MINSTREL. 107 
 
 Trm widow M nights and joyless days, 
 While Willie's fur frae Logan braes. 
 
 O wae upon you men o' state, 
 That brethren rouse to deadly hate ! 
 Uye rink mony a fond heart mourn, 
 Sae may it on your heads return ! 
 How can your flinty hearts enjoy 
 The widow's tears, the orphan's cry ? 
 But soon may peace bring happy days. 
 And Willie haiue to Logan braes '. Burnt* 
 
 FLY NOT YET. 
 Air— '• Pianxty Kelly." 
 Fly not yet 'tis just the 
 When pleasure like the midnight fiow'r, 
 That scorns the eye of vulgar light, 
 ''• bloom for sons of night, 
 And maids that love the moon : 
 Twas but to bless the hours of shade, 
 That beauty and the moon were mad.- : 
 'Tis then, their soft attractions glowing, 
 Set the tides and goblets Mowing. 
 Oh! stay— Oh! stay,— 
 
 a chain 
 Like this to night, that, oh ! 'tis pain, 
 To break its links so soon. 
 
 Fly not yet, the fount that play'd 
 
 In times of old through Amnion's shade, 
 
 Through icy cold by day it ran, 
 
 Yet still, like souls of mirth began 
 
I MINSTREL. 
 
 To bum when night was near : 
 And thus should woman's heart and looks, 
 At neon be cold in winter brooks, 
 Nor kindle, till the night returning-, 
 Brings their genial hour for burning. 
 
 Oh! stay,— Oh! stay- 
 When did morning ever break, 
 And find such beaming eyes awake 
 
 As those that sparkle here. T. Moorc> 
 
 BESSY. 
 Fly from the world, oh ! Bessy to me, 
 
 Thou'lt never find any sincerer, 
 I'll give up the world, oh ! Bessy, for thee, 
 
 I'll never find any that's dearer : 
 Then tell me no more with a tear and a sigh, 
 
 That our loves will be cer.mr'd by many, 
 All have their follies and who can deny, 
 
 That ours is sweetest of any. 
 
 When your lips has met mine, in abandonment sweet, 
 
 Have we felt as if virtue forbid it, 
 Have we felt as if heaven denied them to meet, 
 
 No, rather 'twas heaven that did it, 
 So innocent, love, is the pleasure we sip, 
 
 So little of guilt is there in it. 
 That I wish all my errors were lodg'd on your lip, 
 
 And I'd kiss them away in a minute. 
 
 Then come to your lover, oh, fly to his shed, 
 From a world which I know thou despisest, 
 
MINSTREL. 100 
 
 And slumber will hover as light o'er our head, 
 
 A •> i 'en <>n the couch oi* the W isest, 
 And \\ hen o'er our pillow the tempest! is driven, 
 
 And thou, pretty innocent fearest ; 
 I'll tell thee it is not the chidings of heaven. 
 
 'Tis only our lullaby, dearest. 
 
 And, oh, when we lay on our death-bed, my love, 
 
 Looking back on the scenes of our errors, 
 A sigh from my Bessy shall plead then above, 
 
 And death be disarm'd of his terrors : 
 And each to the other, embracing will say, 
 
 Farewell, let us hope we're forgiven ; 
 Thy last fading glance will illumine the way. 
 
 And a kiss be our passport to heaven. T. Moore. 
 
 GOW'S FAREWELL TO WHISKEY. 
 You've surely heard o' famous Niel, 
 The man that play'd the fiddle weel, 
 I wat he was a canty duel', 
 
 And dearly lo'ed the whiskey, O ! 
 And ay sin' he wore tartan trews, 
 He dearly lo'ed the Athole brose ; 
 And wae was he, you may suppose, 
 
 To play farewell to whiskey, O. 
 
 Alake, quoth Niel, I'm frail aud auld, 
 And find my bluid grows unco cauld, 
 I think ? twad mak me blythe and bauld, 
 
 A wee drap highland whiskey, O ! 
 Yet the doctors they do a' agree, 
 That whiskey's na the drink for me : 
 
 ' 
 
HO MINSTREL. 
 
 Saul, quoth he, 'twill spoil my glee. 
 Should they part me and whiskey, O. 
 
 Tho" I can get baith wine and ale, 
 And find my head and fingers hale, 
 I'll be content, tho' legs should fail, 
 
 To play farew eel to whiskey, O. 
 But still I think on auld lang syne, 
 When Paradise our friends did tyne, 
 Because something ran in their mind , 
 
 Forbid, like highland whiskey, O. 
 
 Come, a' ye powers of music, come ! 
 I find my heart grows unco glum; 
 My fiddle-strings will na play bum 
 
 To say fareweel to whiskey, O. 
 Yet I'll tak my fiddle in my hand, 
 And screw the pegs up while they'll stand, 
 To mak a lamentation grand, 
 
 On gude auld highland whiskey, O. 
 
 A FREE AND ACCEPTED MASON. 
 
 Come let us prepare 
 
 We Brothers that are 
 Assembled on merry occasion ; 
 
 Let's drink, laugh, and sing, 
 
 Our wine has a spring, 
 Here's a health to an accepted mason. 
 
 The world is in pain 
 
 Our secret to gain, 
 And still let them wonder and gaze on. 
 
MINSTREL I 11 
 
 They ne'er can divine 
 Tht> word or the sign 
 Of a free and an accepted mason. 
 
 'Tis this and 'tis that, 
 
 They cannot tell what. 
 Why so many great men of the nation, 
 
 Should aprons put on, 
 
 To make themselves one 
 With a free and an accepted mason. 
 
 Cireat kings, dukes, and lords, 
 
 Have laid by their swords, 
 Our mysteries to put a good grace on, 
 
 And ntr 'er be ashamed 
 
 To hear themselves named 
 With a free and an accepted mason. 
 
 Still firm to our trust, 
 
 In friendship we're just, 
 Our actions we guide by our reason, 
 
 By observing this rule, 
 
 The passions move cool 
 Of a free and an accepted mason. 
 
 All idle debate 
 About church or the state. 
 The springs of impiety and treaaon, 
 ruaen of strife 
 ruffle the life 
 Of a fVee and an accepted mason. 
 Antiquity's pride. 
 
\ MINSTREL. 
 
 Which adds high renown to our station, 
 
 There's nought but what's good 
 
 To be understood 
 By a free and an accepted mason. 
 
 The clergy embrace, 
 
 And all Aaron's race, 
 Our square actions their knowledge to place on. 
 
 And in each degree 
 
 They'll honoured be 
 With a free and an accepted mason. 
 
 We're true and sincere 
 
 In our love to the fair. 
 Who will trust us on every occasion ; 
 
 No mortal can more 
 
 The ladies adore 
 Than a free and an accepted mason. 
 
 Then j oin hand in hand, 
 
 To each other firm stand ; 
 Let's be merry and put a good face on. 
 
 What mortal can boast 
 
 So noble a toast, 
 As a free and an accepted mason. 
 
 GO TO BED SAM. 
 Air— "A Cobbler liv'dat York: 1 
 In the conjugal chain firmly tied 
 
 Sam and Sal resolved to be, 
 The maiden a stout 6ix-foot bride, 
 The bridegroom just three foot and three, 
 
MINSTREL. HS 
 
 In their way to the church a brook 
 
 Bubbled across the road, 
 Her spouse in her arms she took, 
 
 And over it neatly strode. 
 
 Spoken.—" Vy doesn't you move your trotters, Sam; 
 you doesn't seem to be in a very great hurry to be 
 made happy. I supposes Bet still runs in your head, 
 a hussy ; but ven I am your lawful vedded vife, I'll 
 sift that affair to the very bottom, and if it's true, I'll 
 ring in your ears such a 
 
 B o\v de dow de dow. row de dow de dow, 
 Go to bed, Sam. 
 The little man's nose o'er his chin 
 Hung, shielding it from the sun, 
 His tof-s they turned prettily in ; 
 
 He'd of two little pig's eyes lost one. 
 His bride with a snubbefied snout, 
 
 Not quite an inch in size. 
 Had legs which bow'd neatly out, 
 And grey goggle gooseberry eyes. 
 Spoken.— Vike the great, they saw a great deal of 
 company, and but little of their own. Sam did not 
 mind bending his back so that he got something by 
 it; they drank hard, kept late hours, dined so late 
 sometimes that they waited until the following day for 
 their dinner ; but Sal found out Sam gambled. i So 
 sir. you toss up with Blindscrape, the fiddler, do you, 
 sir V Indeed, she did ring in his ears such a 
 Bow de dow r , &.c. 
 Their tempers no more could agree, 
 
 Soon another quarrel arose ; 
 While at bandy legs sneering was he, 
 She lustily rung his long note ; 
 H 
 
114 MINSTR) 
 
 Till forced to submit to his fate, 
 
 As he must do who weds, 
 Their broils, like those of the threat, 
 They ended in separate b< 
 Spoken.— So there uas an end of these 
 Ro* d-r do - 
 
 QUITE POLITFLY. 
 "When first in Lunnun I arnv'd. 
 
 On a visit. on a visit, 
 "When first in Lunnun, I arri\ r d, 
 
 1 Midst heavy rain and thunder, 
 There I espy'd a lass in gnen* 
 The bonniest wench thai eyei t'er seen : 
 I'd often heard of beauty's queen, 
 Thinks I, by gum, I've found her. 
 Tol derol, 5cc. 
 
 She <tood stock still, I did the same, 
 
 g on her, gazing on her, 
 She stood stock still, 1 did the same, 
 
 We both looked mighty sample ; 
 Her cheeks were like the blushing rose, 
 "Which on the hedge neglected blo^s, 
 Her eyes were black as any sloes, 
 And nigh her month a dimple. 
 
 Tol de rol, ckc. 
 
 Madam, say*. I and made a bow, 
 
 . seraping to her 
 Madam, aai ; ' 
 J quite forgot the weather ; 
 
MINSTREL US 
 
 If you will I permission give, 
 I'll see you home where'er you live, 
 \Tith that she took me by the sleeve, 
 Aud off we trudg'd together. 
 
 Tol de rol, &c. 
 
 A pratty wild-goose chase we had, 
 
 Up and down, sirs, in and out sirs, 
 A pratty wild-goose chase we had, 
 The cobbled stones so gall'd me ; 
 At length we came unto a door, 
 "Where twenty lasses, ay, or more. 
 Came out to have a bit galore, 
 At a bumpkin, as they call'd me, 
 
 Tol de rol, Sec. 
 
 Walk in, kind sir, says she to me, 
 
 Quite politely, quite politely, 
 Walk in, kind sir, says she to me, 
 
 Poor lad, they cried, he's undone. 
 Walk in, kind sir,— not so, says I, 
 For I've got other fish to fry : 
 I've seen you home, so now good bye, 
 l'ze Yorkshire, though in Lunnun. 
 Tol de rol, &c. 
 
 My pockets soon I rummaged o'er, 
 
 Cautious ever, cautious ever, 
 My pockets soon I rummaged o'er, 
 
 I found a diamond ring there ; 
 For I had this precaution took, 
 To stitch in each a small fish hook, 
 
115 MINSTREL. 
 
 In groping for my pocket book, 
 The hook it stript her finger. 
 
 Tol de rol, &c 
 
 Three weeks I've been in Lunnun town, 
 
 Living idle, living idle, 
 
 Three weeks I've been in Lunnun town, 
 
 'Tis time to strike to work, sir ; 
 I did not play the silly ass, 
 I sold the ring, and got the brass, 
 •T will do to toast the Lunnun lass, 
 When I get back to Yorkshire. 
 
 Tol de rol, Sec. 
 
 MY FRIEND IS THE MAN. 
 My friend is the man I would copy through life, 
 He harbours no envy, he causes no strife ; 
 No murmurs escape him, though fortune bears hard, 
 Content is his portion, and peace his reward . 
 
 Still happy in his station, 
 
 He minds his occupation, 
 
 Nor heeds the snare*, 
 
 Nor knows the cares 
 "Which vice and folly bring, 
 
 Daily working wearily, 
 
 And nightly singing cheerily, 
 Dear to him his wife, his home, his land and liberty. 
 
 His heart is enlarged, though his income i3 scant, 
 He lessens his little for others that want ; 
 
MIX5TREL. 117 
 
 Thu' hi* children's dear claims on his industry press, 
 He has something to spare for the child of distress. 
 
 He seeks no idle squabble, 
 
 He joins no thoughtless rabble, 
 
 To clear his way 
 
 From day to day 
 His honest views extend ; 
 
 When he «peaks it's verily 
 
 "VVhen he smiles it's manly, 
 Dear to him his sport, his toil, his honour, and his 
 friend. 
 
 How charming to find in his humble retreat 
 That bliss so mw in known to the great, 
 
 The wife only anxious her fondness to prove, 
 The playful endearments of infantile love. 
 Relaxing from his labours, 
 Amid his welcome neighbours, 
 With plain r 
 Whbjest and taie, 
 The happy hero see ; 
 
 aes confound him, 
 All his joys surround him. 
 1>ear h e h land, its laws, and liberty! 
 
 . P. Andrews. 
 
 E SOLDIER'S DRi; 
 Our bugles sang truce, for the night-cloudjhad lower'd; 
 
 And the sentinel-star; set their watch in the sky, 
 And thousand* h->d sunk on the ground, orerpower'd; 
 
 The weary to sleep, and the wounded to die. 
 
118 MINSTREL. 
 
 When reposing that night on my pallet of itraw, 
 By the wolf-scaring faggot, that guarded the slain, 
 
 In the dead of the night a sweet vision 1 saw, 
 And twice 'ere the morning I dreamt it again. 
 
 Methought from the battle-field's dreadful array, 
 
 Far, far, I had roamed on a desolate track, 
 Till nature and sunshine disclosed the sweet way 
 
 To the house of my father's that welcomed me back. 
 I flew to the pleasant fields, traversed so oft 
 
 In life's morning march, when my bosom was young; 
 I heard my own mountain goats bleating aloft, 
 
 And well knew the strain that the corn reapers sung. 
 
 Then pledged we the wine-cup, and fondly I swore, 
 
 From my home and myweeping friends never to p:irt$ 
 My little ones kissed me a thousand times b'er, 
 
 And my wife sobbed aloud in the fulness of heart. 
 M Stay, stay with us, rest, thou art weary and worn 1" 
 
 And fain was the war-broken soldier to stay, 
 But sorrow returned with the dawning of morn. 
 
 And the voice in mv dreaming ear melted away. 
 
 CumpbelL 
 
 GYPSIES' GLEE. 
 O ! who has seen the miller's w ife ? 
 I, I, I ! and kindled up new strife ; 
 A shilling from her palm I took 
 Ere on the cross lines I could look. 
 Who, who's the tanner's daughter seen ? 
 I, I, I, in quest of her have been, 
 But. as the tanner was within, 
 *Twai hard to 'scape him in whole ikin A 
 
ItlNSTRJSL. 
 
 From ev'ry place condemned to roam, 
 In every place we seek a home ; 
 Tin M branches form our summer roo% 
 By duck-grown leavet made weather jvflbof. 
 In sheltering nooks and hollow ways, 
 We cheerly pass our winter days ; 
 Come, circle round the gipsies' fire, 
 Our songs, our stories never tire. 
 
 Come, stain your cheeks with nut or berry, 
 You'll find the gipsy's life is merry. 
 
 CUSHLAMACHREE. 
 DEAR Ei in, how sweetly thy green bosom rises, 
 
 An emerald set in the ring of the sea, 
 Each blade of thy meadows my faithful heart prizes, 
 
 Thou queen of the west, the world's Cushlamachree 
 
 Thy gates open wide to the poor and the stranger ; 
 
 1 here iiuiles hospitality, hearty and free ; 
 Thy friendship is seen in the moment of danger, 
 
 And the wand'rer is welcomed with Cushlamachree 
 
 Thy sons they are brave ; but, the battle once over, 
 In brotherly peace with their foes they agree. 
 
 And the roseate cheeks of thy daughters discover 
 The soul-speaking blush that says Cushlamachree. 
 
 Then, flourish for ever, my dear native Erin, 
 While sadly I wander, an exile from thee, 
 
 And, firm as thy mountains, no injury fearing, 
 Mar heaven defind its own Cushlamachree. 
 
 C. Phillipt. 
 
MINSTREL. 
 
 COMIN* THROUGH THE RYE. 
 
 Gin a body meet a body 
 
 Comin' through the rye, 
 Gin a body kiss a body 
 Need a body cry ? 
 Ilka body ha' a body, 
 Ne*er a ane hae I ; 
 But a' the lads they lo'e me, 
 And what the waur am I i 
 
 Gin a body meet a body 
 
 Cemin' frae the well, 
 Gin a body kiss a body 
 
 Need a body tell ? 
 Ilka body has a body, &c, 
 
 Gin a body meet a body 
 
 Comin' fra the town. 
 Gin a body kiss a body 
 
 Need a body frown. 
 Ilka Jenny has her Jockey, &e. 
 
 BE A GOOD BOY AND TAKE CARE OF 
 YOURSELF. 
 When I was at home, with my father and mother, 
 I beat the old couple, and Teddy, my brother, 
 At learning I mean ; for I handled the spade, 
 And so nately I followed the turf-cutting trade. 
 But old father Murphy, our parish director, 
 He O.QW find then g-ave roe a bit of a lecture ; 
 
MINSTREL. 121 
 
 "Arrah, Barney," sap he, " you're a frolicksome elf, 
 But be a good boy, and lake care of yourself." 
 "With your too ral lal loo, &c. 
 
 My Judy I lov'd, and oft gave her a kiss ; 
 " Fie, Barney," says she, but ne'er took it amiss : 
 One night I took leave ; says I, " Judy, I'm off," 
 But heard, as I thought, in the closet, a cough ; 
 So I opened the door, and I stared like a pig, 
 There stood old father Murphy, without hat or wig ; 
 " Arrah, father,"' says I, " you're a frolicksome elf, 
 But be a good boy, and take care of yourself." 
 With your too ral lal loo, &c. 
 
 I was going, when old father Murphy cried, li stay, 
 We'll settle this matter, I'll tell you the way, 
 I'll marry you both, and then, Barney, you know—" 
 *' Thank'e father," says I," but I'd much rather go ;" 
 So to old father Murphy, I bade a good night, 
 And to Judy, I said, what you'll own was quite right, 
 * Arrah, Judy," says I, " you're a frolicksome elf, 
 Eut I'll be a good boy and take care of myself." 
 With my too ral lal loo, &c. 
 
 WHILE THE LADS OF THE VILLAGE. 
 While the lads of the village shall merrily, ah, 
 
 Sound their tabors, I\l hand thee along, 
 And I say unto thee that merrily, ah, 
 
 Thou and I will be first in the throng. 
 
 While the lads of the village, &c. 
 
123 MINSTREL. 
 
 Just then, when the youth who last year won the dower, 
 
 And his mate shall the spoils have begun, 
 When the gay voice of gladness resounds from each 
 bo Aver, 
 And thou long'st in thy heart to make one. 
 While the lads of the village. 
 
 Those joys that are harmless what mortal can blame ? 
 
 'Tis my maxim that youth should be free ; 
 And, to prove that my words and my deeds are the 
 same, 
 Believe thou shalt presently see. 
 
 While the lads ojf the village, &rc. 
 
 Dibdin, 
 
 'TWAS YOU, SIR. 
 A Catch. 
 
 'Twas you, sir, 'twas you, sir, 
 
 I tell you nothing new, sir, 
 'Twas you that kissed the pretty girl, 
 
 'Twas you, sir, you ; 
 
 'Tis true, sir, 'tis true, sir, 
 
 You look so very blue, sir, 
 I'm sure you kissed the pretty girl, 
 
 'Tis true, sir, true ; 
 
 Oh, sir, no, sir ? 
 
 How can you wrong me so, sir ? 
 I did not kiss the pretty girl- 
 But I know who. 
 
 Murnington. 
 
MINSTREL. lU 
 
 UNDER THE GREENWOOD TREE. 
 Under the greenwood tree, 
 Who loves to sit with ine, 
 And tune his merry throat 
 Unto the sweet bird's note, 
 Come hither, come hither, come hither ; 
 Here shall he see 
 No enemy 
 But winter and rough weather. 
 
 Who doth ambition shun, 
 
 And loves to live i'the sun, 
 
 Seeking the food he eats. 
 
 And pleased with whathe geti, 
 Come hither, come hither, come hither ; 
 
 Here shall he see 
 
 No enemy 
 But winter and rough weather. 
 
 Shakspeare. 
 
 SHE SAYS SHE LO'ES ME BEST OF A* 
 Sae flaxen were her ringlets, 
 
 Her eyebrows, of* a darker hue, 
 EX witclringly o'er-arehing 
 
 Twa Is ■>' bonnie blue! 
 
 Her nailing sae wyling, 
 
 Wad make a wretch forget his woe; 
 What {>■< fesare, what treasure, 
 
 Unto these rosy lips to grow ; 
 
12 4 MINSTREL 
 
 Such was my Chloris' bonnie face, 
 When first her bonnie face I saw, 
 
 And aye my Chloris' dearest charm 
 She says she lo'es me best of a'. 
 
 Like harmony her motion ; 
 
 Her pretty ankle is a spy, 
 Betraying fair proportion, 
 
 Wad make a saint forget the sky. 
 Sae warming, sae charming, 
 
 Her faultless form, and gracefu' air ; 
 Ilk feature— auld Nature 
 
 Declared that she could do nae mair : 
 Her's are willing chains o' love, 
 
 By conquering beauty's sov'reign law ; 
 And aye my Chloris' dearest charm, 
 
 She says she lo'es me # bsst of a'. 
 
 Let others love the city, 
 
 And gaudy shows at sunny-noon : 
 Gie me the lonely valley, 
 
 The dewy eve, and rising moon : 
 Fair beaming, and streaming, 
 
 Her silver light the boughs amang ; 
 While falling recalling, 
 
 The am'rous thrush concludes his sang ; 
 There, dearest Chloris, wilt thou rove 
 
 By whimpering bum and leafy shaw ; 
 And hear my vows o' truth and love, 
 
 And say thou lo'es me best of a'. 
 
 Burn*. 
 
MINSTREL 125 
 
 THE DEAREST SWEETEST SPOT IS HOME. 
 
 l\ - wandered through that Indian land, 
 
 Where Nature wears her richest hue ; 
 I've stood upon the Grecian strand. 
 
 And gazed upon the waters blue : 
 I've stray'd beneath a myrtle grove, 
 
 On Arno's banks, when day has set, 
 And heard the Italian's song of love 
 
 Come softly from his gondolet ; 
 But still, though far and wide we roam, 
 The sweetest, dearest spot, is home. 
 
 The gaudy plants of tropic skies, 
 
 Though bright the tints in which they bloom, 
 Though decked in Beauty's proudest dyes, 
 
 Are yet divested of perfume, 
 One wild rose of my native vale, 
 
 The jessamine round my cottage twined, 
 That waft their fragrance on the gale, 
 Have charms far dearer to my mind : 
 For still, though far and wide we roam, 
 The sweetest, dearest spot, is home. 
 
 J. Sullivan. 
 
 WHACK FOR O'SHAUGHNASHANE. 
 Hail to our chief now he's wet through with whiskey! 
 
 Long life to the lady come from the salt seas ! 
 Strike up, blind harpers ! hey to be friskey I 
 
 For what id so gay a3 a bag full of fleas ? 
 
125 MINSTREL. 
 
 Crest of O'Shaughnashane ! 
 
 That's a potatoe, plain, 
 Long may your root every Irishman know ! 
 
 Pats long have stuck to it, 
 
 Long bid good luck to it ; 
 "Whack for O'Shaughnashane !— tooly whagg ho ! 
 
 Our's is an esculent, lusty and lasting, 
 
 No turnip, or other weak babe of the ground ; 
 Waxy or mealy, it hinders from fasting 
 Half Erin's inhabitants all the year round. 
 
 Wants the soil where 'tis flung, 
 
 Hog's, cow's, or horses' dung, 
 Still does the crest of O'Shaughnashane grow ; 
 
 Shout for it, Lister men ! 
 
 Till the bogs quake again ! 
 Whack for O'Shaughnashane I— tooley whagg ho ! 
 
 Drink, Paddies, drink ! to the lady so shining ! 
 
 While flow 'ret shall open and bog-trotters dig, 
 So long may the sweet rose of beauty be twining 
 Around the potatoe of proud Blarney-gig ! 
 
 While the plant vegetates, 
 
 While whiskey re-creates. 
 Wash down the root from the horns that o'erflow ; 
 
 Shake your shillelaghs, boys ! 
 
 Schreeching drunk, scream your joys ! 
 Whack for O'Shaughnashane !— tooley whagg ho ! 
 
 Time rolls his course ;— now seems in haste, 
 And now seems slow— as cooks roll paste ; 
 
MINSTREL. '27 
 
 Rolling out tows from human dust, 
 
 Soon to be broken— soon as crust. 
 
 All under Time to ruin falls, 
 
 Like Blarney-gigfs now moulder'd walls. 
 
 C. Coleman* 
 
 O, WE'RE A' NODDIN. 
 
 O, we're a' noddin, nid, nid, noddin, 
 O, we're a' noddin at our house at hame. 
 When the dame's asleep, and the good man fu' 
 "When lads love lasses, and lasses love so true, 
 Kate sits i' the neuk, and her Jo sits by, 
 And the moon shines bright as the love in her eye. 
 And they're a' noddin, &c. 
 
 And how d'ye, kimmer ? and how d'ye, dear ? 
 How long hae ye loved me ?— a twalmonth or near ; 
 I hae Iov'dye a twalmonth, dearer than life, 
 And e're a day aulder, I'se mak' ye my w ife. 
 
 And be ye aye noddin, See. 
 
 And how d'ye kimmer ? and how d'ye thrive ? 
 O' siller and goud I ha plenty to wive ; 
 Gie's your hand then, my Jo,— O, na, na, na, 
 My hand it was promised to Willie far awa ! 
 
 And we're a' noddin, &c. 
 
 Cats like milk weel, and dogs like broo, 
 Lads like lasses weel, and lasses lads too. 
 
 And we're a' noddin, &c. 
 
128 MINSTREL 
 
 TOM AND JERRY. 
 Au ._ « The Tom Cat." 
 Tom and Jerry sprees 
 
 Ring about so merry, 
 Nought is known to please 
 Like " Go it, Tom and Jerry I 
 Lalalla,lalla, &c. 
 
 Life'in London now, 
 
 Yes, to tell you fairly, 
 Is to breed a row, 
 
 And then to floor a Charley. 
 
 Tom in squeezing Nan, 
 Chanced to tear hei garment, 
 
 When she thus began— 
 « There, you nasty varment . 
 
 Jerry knelt and sighed, 
 
 Love for love to barter 
 When the charmer cried— 
 
 « Now, vat are you arter ?" 
 Tom would kiss the dear, 
 
 " No," says Nan, " so claws off. 
 Vat the devil's here ? 
 
 Fellers, keep your paws off." 
 
 But it would not do, 
 
 Kiss they would so merry ; 
 
 When she knocked down Tom, 
 And then she lathered Jerry. 
 
 La lal, &c 
 
 Upton 
 
 M 
 
MINSTREL. 1 J9 
 
 WILLIAM THE ri\AVE. 
 
 By the side of yon streamlet there grows a green willow, 
 
 'That | | [face and kisses eaeh wave, 
 
 Beneath who* . vi»h the sod for his pillow, 
 
 In peace rests the spirit of William the Brave. 
 
 . there o*er his grave does no stone tell his story* 
 
 No monument glitters in splendid array ; 
 Oh, no ! on the heavt is recorded his glory, 
 
 On love's holy altar 'twill never decay. 
 
 There lonely at evening, when day is declining, 
 
 Sweet Mary in sorrow oft hies to his grave, 
 And moistens the flowers, in beauty entwining. 
 
 With tears to the memory of Wilfiam the Brave. 
 'Tis the test of affection, far sweeter appearing, 
 
 Than all the gay glitter that custom e'er gave : 
 Ah, Heaven ! 'tis a tribute, and doubly endearing 
 
 When shed by fond love o'er the tomb of the brave. 
 J. G. Drake. 
 
 THE TROUBADOUR. 
 Glowing with love, on fire for fame, 
 
 A Troubadour, that hated sorrow, 
 Beneath his lady's window came, 
 
 And thus he sung his last good-morrow : 
 u My arm it is my country's light, 
 
 My heart is in my true-love's bower ; 
 Gaily for love and fame to tight, 
 
 Befits the gallant Troubadour.'' 
 1 
 
ISO MINSTREL. 
 
 And while he march *d, with helm on head 
 
 And harp in hand, the descant rung ; 
 Ai faithful to his favourite maid, 
 
 The minstrel-burthen still he sung ; 
 M My arm it is my country's right, 
 
 My heail is in my lady's bower ; 
 Resolved for love and fame to fight, 
 
 I come, a gallant Troubadour." 
 
 Even when the battle-roar was deep, 
 
 With dauntless heart he hew'd his way, 
 Mid splintering lance and falchion-sweep, 
 
 And still was heard his warrior lay ; 
 ** My life it is my country's right, 
 
 My heart is in my lady's bower ; 
 For love to die, for fame to fight, 
 
 Becomes the valiant Troubadour." 
 
 Ala* ! upon the bloody field 
 
 He fell beneath the foemen"s glaive, 
 But still, reclining on his shield, 
 
 Expiring sung the exulting stave : 
 M My life it is my country's right, 
 
 My heart is in my lady's bower ; 
 For love and fame to fall in fight 
 
 Becomes the valiant Troubadour." W, Scot 
 
 HULL'S VICTORY. 
 O'er the trident of Neptune Britannia had boasted 
 
 Her flag long triumphantly flew, 
 Her fleet undisturb'd round America coasted, 
 
 Till Hull taught the foe what our seamen could di] 
 
MINSTREL. 131 
 
 I < t the trumpet of fame tell the story, 
 And our tors give to honour and glory, 
 
 Hark ! hark ! how the cannon like thunder does rattle. 
 
 Our hero's quite cool in the uproar of battle. 
 
 See the bold Constitution the Guerriere o'ertaking, 
 
 "While seas from her fury divide, 
 The all conquering foe, boys, our thunder is raking, 
 See her mizen-mast falls in the deep o'er her side; 
 I hulk now our bullets are boring, 
 The blood from her scuppers is pouring, 
 See ! see ! she's aboard, shall we yield boys ? no never, 
 "We'll light for our rights on the ocean for ever. 
 
 Brave Hull gave the orders for boarding, but wonder, 
 By the board, main and foremast both go, 
 
 a proclaims she submits to our thunder, 
 Which drowns the vain boast of our now humble foe. 
 Huzza now the conquest proclaiming, 
 Our tan see the Guerriere lhiming, 
 See ! see ! as she burns sinks the battle's commotion, 
 She blows up, she scatters her hull on the ocean. 
 
 "With equal force let Britannia send out her whole navy, f 
 
 Our seamen in bondage to drag, 
 Our heroes will send them express to old Davy, 
 Or forfeit their lives in defence of their flag. 
 Let the trumpet of fame tell the story, 
 And our tars give to honour and glory ; 
 Death ! death ! they'll prefer, e'er from honour they 
 
 sever. 
 Then glory to Hull and our navy forever. 
 
MINSTREL. 
 
 WHEN I GAZ'D ON A BEAUTIFUL FACE. 
 
 When I gaz'd on a beautiful face, 
 
 Or a form which my fancy approv ? d ; 
 I was pleas'd with its sweetness and grace, 
 
 And falsely btliev'd that I lov'd : 
 Eut my heart, though it strove to deceive, 
 
 The injustice it would not allow, 
 I could look, I could like, I could leave, 
 
 But I never could love till now, 
 Ah ! never, no never, oh, never, no never, 
 
 I never could love till now. 
 
 Yet, though I from others could reve, 
 
 Now harbour no doubt of my truth ; 
 Those flames were not kindled by love. 
 
 They were kindled by folly and youth : 
 But no longer of reason bereft, 
 
 On your hand, that pure altar I vow ; 
 Tho' I've look'd, and have lik'd and have left, 
 
 That I never have lov'd till now. 
 Ah 1 never, no never, &:c. M. G. Lerwi*\ 
 
 o: NAXOS. 
 
 When I left thy sho-^s. O ! Nasos, 
 
 Not a tear in sorrow fell, 
 Not a sigh in Falter'd accent, 
 
 Spoke my bosom's struggling swell, 
 
MINSTREL. 13S 
 
 Yet my heart sunk chill 'within me, 
 
 And I wav'd a hand as cold : 
 When I thought thy shores O ! Naxos, 
 
 I should never more behold. 
 
 Still the blue wave danc'd around us, 
 
 ' Midst the sun-beams jocund smile, 
 Still the air breath'd balmy summer, 
 
 Wafted from that happy Isle ; 
 When some hand the strain awaking 
 
 Oi' my home and native shore, 
 Then 'twas first I wept, O ! Naxos, 
 
 That I ne'er should see thee more. Byron, 
 
 BLACK EY'D SUSAN. 
 All in the Downs the fleet lay moor'd, 
 The streamers waving- in the wind, 
 When black ey'd Susan came on board ! 
 Oh ! where shall I my true love find ? 
 " Tell me, ye jovial sailors, tell me true, 
 If my sweet William sails among your crew ?" 
 
 William, who high upon the yard, 
 
 RoekM with the billows to and fro, 
 Soon as her well known voice he heard, 
 He sigh'd and cast his eyes below : 
 The cord slides s wiftly thro' his glowing hands, 
 And quick as lightning on the deck he stands. 
 
 So the sweet lark, high pois'd in air, 
 Shuts close his pinions to bis breast, 
 
134 MINSTREL. 
 
 (If chance his mate's shrill voice to hear) 
 And drops at once into her nest : 
 The noblest captain in the British fleet 
 Might envy William's lips those kisses sweet. 
 
 O Susan, Susan, lovely dear ! 
 
 My vows shall ever true remain, 
 Let me kiss off' that falling tear, 
 We only part to meet again, 
 Change as ye list, ye winds, my heart shall he 
 The faithful compass that still points to thee* 
 
 Believe not what the landsmen say, 
 Who tempt with doubts thy constant mind ; 
 
 They'll tell thee sailors when away, 
 In ev'ry port a mistress find ; 
 Yes, yes, believe them when they tell thee so, 
 For thou art present wheresoe'er I go : 
 
 If to fair India's coast we sail, 
 
 Thy eyes are seen in diamonds bright, 
 Thy breath is Afric's spicy gale, 
 Thy skin is ivory so white : 
 Thus every beauteous object that I view, 
 Wakes in my soul some eharma of lovely Sue. 
 
 Tho' battles call me from thy arms, 
 Let not my pretty Susan mourn, 
 Tho' cannons roar, yet safe from harms 
 W T illiam shall to his dear return. 
 Love turns aside the balls that round me fly, 
 Lest precious tears should drop from Susan's eye. 
 
MINSTREL 135 
 
 The boatswain gave the dreadful word, 
 The sails theiv swelling bosom spread, 
 No longer must she stay on board ; 
 
 They kiss'd ; she sitrh'd ; he hung his head : 
 
 nihg boot unwilling rows to land, 
 
 Aditu I s'ic cries ; and wav'd her lily hand. Gey. 
 
 THE BROWN" JUG. 
 Dear Tom, this brown jug that now foams with mild 
 
 ale, 
 Out of which T will drink to sweet Nan of the Vale, 
 Was once Toby Philpot, a thirsty old soul, 
 As e're drank a bottle, or fathom'd a bowl ; 
 In boozing about 'twas his pride to excel, 
 And among jolly topers he bore off the bell. 
 
 It chane'd as in dog-days he sat at his ease, 
 In hi< llow'r-woven arbor as gay a: you please ; 
 With a friend and a pipe puffing sorrow away, 
 And with honest old stingo, was soaking hi9 clay ; 
 Hi/ breath doors of life on a sudden were shut, 
 And he died full as big as a Dorchester butt. 
 
 His body when long in the ground it had lain, 
 
 And time into clay had dissolved it again, 
 
 A potter found out in a covert so %nug 
 
 And with part of fat Toby, he made thu brown jug- ; 
 
 Now sacred to friendship, to mirth and miM ale, 
 
 60 here's to my lovely sweet N'&u oi'it^ V*io 
 
 Vtsmkct. 
 
IW MINSTREL. 
 
 ERE AROUND THE HUGE O V". 
 Ere around the huge oak that o'enhadows yoa mill, 
 
 The fond ivy had dar'd V 
 Ere the church was a ruin that nods on the hill, 
 Or a rook built his nest in the pine. 
 
 I could trace back the time, to a far distant date, 
 Since my forefathers' toil'd in the field ; 
 
 And the farm I now hold on your honor's estcte, 
 Is the same that my forefathers 1 tili'd. 
 
 He dying, bequeath'd to his son a good name, 
 
 Which unsullied, descended to me ; 
 For my child I'll preserve it. unblemished «rit 
 
 And it still from a spot shall be free. 0' Kecfe. 
 
 O WHISTLE. 
 
 O Whistle and 111 come to you my lad, 
 
 O whistle and I'll come to you my lad : 
 
 Though father and mither and a' should gae mad, 
 
 O whistle and I'll come to you my lad. 
 Though father and mither and a' should gaemad, 
 O whistle and I'll coma to you ray lad. 
 
 But wanly tent when ye come to court me, 
 And come nae unless the back-yett be ajee ; 
 Syne up the back-style and let nae body see, 
 And come as ye were nae comin' to me. 
 O whistle. &e. 
 
 A; kirk, or at market when e'er ye meet me, 
 Gang by me as though that ye car'd nae a flee, 
 
MINSTREL. 
 
 I ne a blink o' your bonny black e'e, 
 Yet look as ye were nae lookin' at rae. 
 O whistle, &c. 
 
 nd protest that ye care nae forme, 
 And whyl s ye may lightly my beauty a wee, 
 But court nae anither, tho' jokin' ye be, 
 
 that she whyle your fancy frae me. 
 O whistle, ^c. 
 
 PATRICK AND NORAH. 
 The meadows look cheerful, the birds sweetly sing", 
 So gaily they caiol the praises of spring ; 
 : rejoices, poor Koran shall mourn, 
 
 P.itrick again shall return. 
 
 \ hide your gay charm<, 
 Nor lure her dear Patrick from Norah's fond arms ! 
 
 !i satins and ribbons, and laces are fine, 
 They hide not a heart with such feelings as mine. 
 
 MORNING'S DAWK. 
 Af morning's (Lawn, the hunters rise, 
 
 To view the beauty of the skies, 
 The hounds proclaim returning day, 
 
 The huntsmen cry. hark, hark away ! 
 The hounds proclaim returning day ! 
 The huntsmen erj . hark, hark away I 
 
 Hark, hark, hark away ! 
 
138 MINSTREL 
 
 The earths are stopp'd, the hounds well thro\ 
 The earths are stopp'd, the hounds well thro', 
 
 In hopes to hear sweet tally ho ! 
 Tally ho ! tally ho! tally ho'! ho ! ho ! ho ! ho! 
 The earths are "stopp'd, the hounds well thro 1 , 
 
 In hopes to hear sweet tally ho ! 
 
 To rural hark, the huntsmen cry, 
 
 A certain sign, for sportsmen's joy ; 
 Hark forward— next, salutes our ear, 
 
 A cheering* proof the fox is near. 
 The earths are stopp'd, ccc. 
 
 Now swift we course, o'er hill and dale, 
 O'er hedge and ditch, o'er gate or rail ; 
 
 Our sport with rapture we persue, 
 Until sly reynard's brush we view. 
 The earths are stopp'd, &:c 
 
 HARVEST MORNING. 
 
 "When the rosy morn appearing-, 
 Paints with gold the verdant lawn, 
 
 Bees on banks of thyme disporting, 
 Sip the sweets and hail the dawn. 
 
 Warbling birds the day proclaiming, 
 Carol sweet the lively strain, 
 
 They forsake their leafy dwelling, 
 To secure the golden grain. 
 
 See Content, the humble gleaner 
 Takes the scatter'd ears that full ; 
 
 Nature, all her children viewing, 
 Kindly bounteous cares foi i.li. 
 
MINSTREL. 
 
 KATHLEEN. 
 Sleep on, sleep on, my Kathleen dear, 
 
 May peace possess thy breast ; 
 Yet doest thou dream thy true-love's near, 
 
 Depriv'd of peace and rest ? 
 
 The birds sing sweet, the morning breaks, 
 
 Those joys are none to me ; 
 Though sleep is fled, poor Dermot wakes, 
 
 To none but love and thee ! 
 
 A GLASS IS GOOD. 
 A glass is good and a hi>>s is good. 
 
 And a pipe to smoke in cold weather; 
 The world is good, and the people are good, 
 
 And we're all good fellows together. 
 
 A bottle it is a very good thing. 
 With a good deal of good wine in it ; 
 
 A song is good, when a body can sing, 
 And to finish, we must begin it. 
 
 A table is good, when spread with good cheer, 
 And good company sitting round it ; 
 
 When a good way off, we're not very near, 
 And for sorrow the devil confound it. 
 
 A friend is good, when you're out of good luck, 
 
 For that's a good time to try him, 
 For a justice good, the haunch of a buck, 
 
 With such a good present }ou buy him. 
 
140 MINSTREL. 
 
 A fine old woman is good when* she's dead, 
 A vogue very good for good hanging, 
 
 A fool is good by the nose to he led, 
 My good song deserves a good banging. 
 
 THIS WORLD IS ALL A FLEETING SHOW. 
 This world is all a fleeting show, 
 
 For man's illusion given • 
 The smiles of Joy, the tears of Wo, 
 Deceitful shine, deceitful flow— 
 
 There's nothing true but Heaven .' 
 
 And false the light on Glory's plume, 
 
 As fading hues of even ; 
 And Love, and Hope, and Beauty's bloom, 
 Are blossoms gathered for the tomb — 
 
 There's nothing bright but Heaven I 
 
 Poor wanderers of a stormy day, 
 
 From wave to wave we're driven, 
 And Fancy's flash, and Reason's ray, 
 Serve but to light the troubled way — 
 There's nothing calm but Heaven ! 
 
 T. Moore. 
 
 LET US ALL BE UNHAPPY. 
 Oh ! come on some cold rainy day, 
 
 W T hen the birds cannot show a dry feather, 
 Bring your sighs and your tears Granny Gray : 
 
 Let us all be unhappy together. 
 
MIVSTREL. 14 
 
 Bring the heart-piercing shoots from your corn, 
 Bring all the dull news you can gather, 
 
 Bring Dick Dismal, who looks so forlorn : 
 Lef n s all be unhappy together. 
 
 We'll talk about mildews and blights, 
 Occasion'd by badness of weather ; 
 
 About horrible dreams and dull nights ; 
 And we'il all be unhappy together. 
 
 And we'll talk of the ghost without head, 
 That kiss'd mother Mumph in the cellar, 
 
 That frighten 'd the barber's boy dead, 
 And we'll all be unhappy together. 
 
 Let us fancy fresh duty on snuif, 
 Cats, lap-dogs, or monkeys so clever ; 
 
 Let's suppose that there's taxes enough 
 To make us all unhappy together. 
 
 Let us talk of invasion and blood, 
 Of devils, black, blue, w hite and yellow, 
 
 Noah's ark, Noah's self, and the flood : 
 Let us all be unhappy together. 
 
 Let us mourn for those days that are past, 
 When our hearts were as light as a feather ; 
 
 Let's suppose that this day is our last ; 
 Let us all be unhappy together. 
 
 And I charge you, my dear Granny Gray, 
 Should you meet Susan Sad, that you tell her, 
 
 The keg's burst, the gin's run away ; 
 And we're all here unhappy together. 
 
142 MINSTREL. 
 
 TO THY GREEN FIELDS. 
 To thy green fields, sweet Erin, I've long bade adieu, 
 But my heart's fondest blessing remains still with yon; 
 And though ocean's dark billows between us may roll, 
 Thou shalt still be the pride and the queen of my soul; 
 From my dear native shore I am borne by the wave ; 
 Then farewell to thee, Erin, thou land of the brave. 
 
 To the shrine of true honour thy children all bend, 
 To adversity ever assistance they lend ; 
 And though doom'd in a far distant climate to toil, 
 A true son of green Erin forgets not his soil : 
 Hcpeing still, that once more borne along by the wave, 
 He shall welcome thee, Erin, thou land of the brave. 
 
 CROOS-KEEN LAWN. 
 
 Let the farmer praise his grounds, 
 As the huntsman does his hounds. 
 
 And the shepherd his sweet scented lawn, 
 While I more blest than they, 
 Spend each happy night and day 
 With my smiling little Croos-keen lawn, lawn,lawn, 
 Oh, my smiling little Croos-keen lawn. 
 Leante ruma Croos-keen 
 Sleante gar ma voor men neen 
 Agus grama ehree ma cooleen ban, ban, ban, 
 Agus gramachree ma cooleen ban. 
 
 In court with manly grace, 
 Should Sir Toby plade his case, 
 
MIN'STREL. 143 
 
 And the merits of his cause make known, 
 Without his cheerful glass. 
 He'd be stupid as an ass. 
 
 So he takes a little Croos-keen lawn. 
 Leante ruma, &c. 
 
 Then fill your glasses high, 
 Let's not part with lips so dry, 
 
 Though the lark should proclaim it is dawn. 
 But if we can't remain, 
 May we shortly meet again, 
 
 To fill another Croo&Jceen lawn. 
 
 Leante, ruma, &c. 
 
 And when grim death appeal's, 
 After few but happy years. 
 
 And tells me my glass it is run, run, run, 
 I'll say, begone you slave, 
 For great Bacchus gives me lave 
 
 Just to till another Croos-keen lawn, lawn, lawn. 
 Leante, ruma, &c. 
 
 THE TWIG OF SHELALY. 
 Malrooney's my name, I'm a comical boy, 
 A tight little lad at shelaly ; 
 St. Paddy with whiskey he suckled me, joy, 
 Among the sweet bogs of Kelaly ! 
 The world I began with the prospect so fair, 
 My dad was worth nothing, and I was his heir; 
 So all my estate was a heart free from care, 
 And a tight little twig of shelaly. 
 
144 MINSTREL 
 
 " Turn captain," cried dad," and if kilt in th' strife, 
 
 Success and long life to Shelaly ! 
 
 Your fortune is made all the rest of youv;life, 
 
 As sure as there's bogs in Kelaly." 
 
 But thinks I, spite of what fame and glory bequeath, 
 
 How conceited I'd look in a fine laurel wreath, 
 
 Wi' my head in my mouth to stand picking my teeth, 
 
 Wi' a tight little twig of shelaly. 
 
 Yet firmly both Ireland and England I'll aid, 
 
 The lands of oak stick, and shelaly ; 
 
 For now these two sisters are man and wife made, 
 
 As sure as there's bogs in Kelaly. 
 
 I'll still for their friends have a heart warm and true, 
 
 To their foes give my hand, for what else can I do ? 
 
 Yes, I'll give 'em my hand— but, along wi' it too, 
 
 A tight little twig of shelaly. 
 
 CEASE, OH ! CEASE TO TEMPT. 
 Cease, oh ! cease to tempt my tender heart to love, 
 It never, never can so wild a flame approvje ; 
 All its joys, and pains, to others I resign, 
 But be the vacant heart, the careless bosom mine. 
 Then cease, oh! cease to tempt my tender heart to love, 
 It never can so wild a flame approve. 
 Say, oh ! say no more that lovers' pains are sweet ! 
 I never, never can believe the fond deceit* 
 Thou lov'st the wounded heart, 
 
 I love to wander free ; 
 So, keep thou Cupid's dart, 
 And leave hii wings for me. T. Moore 
 
MINSTREL. 
 
 HIE WHIP-POOR-WILL. 
 I if son had descended beneath the green wave, 
 I he <l<\v drops of even the wild flowers lave. 
 While the gentle queen of night shines on yonder rip- 
 pling rill, 
 I'll listen to thy strains, oh ! lonely Whip-poor-will. 
 No more sliall the poet be proud of his lay ; 
 Apollo shall yield to the ruuse of the spray): 
 No tabor of the plains, no music of the hill, 
 Can equal thy strains, oh ! lonely Whip-poor-will. 
 The robin may sing his soft sonnet of love, 
 And Philomel warble her woes lo the grove, 
 While the soft and tender lay does the soul with rap- 
 ture fill, 
 It can ne'er be compared to the lonely Whip-poor-will. 
 In life's rugged path if few roses we find, 
 Should hope prove delusive, and fortune unkind, 
 Should the fickle goddess frown, I could meet her 
 
 with a smile, 
 And listen to thy strains, oh ! lonely Whip-poor-will. 
 No attractions has honour or riches for me, 
 I would part with them all fur a brook or and tree— - 
 E'en a sceptre Ed resign for a ramble on the hill, 
 And one tender lay from the plaintive Whip-poor** ill 
 Not the wealth of Potosi should tempt me to rove 
 From my grotto, my streamlet, my cascade and grnv. , 
 While contentment still endears the sweet bank-, of the 
 
 hill, 
 \ nd pleasure's in thy strains, 
 Vol. J. K 
 
I4fi MINSTREL. 
 
 PADDY'S WEDDING. 
 Sure won't you hear, what roaring cheer 
 
 Was spread at Paddy's wedding, O I 
 And how so gay they spent the day, 
 
 From churching to the bedding, O ! 
 First book in hand came Father Quipes, 
 
 With the bride's dadda, the baily, O I 
 While the chanter with his merry pipes, 
 Struck up a lilt so gaily, O ! 
 The moment Father Quipes heard there was a wed- 
 ding on the carpet, he went to Peter O'Reily and told 
 him the whole affair, who thrust his arm up the chim- 
 ney, and pulled down his pipes, and squeezed then* 
 under his arm, and played a neat little bit of a 
 
 Tid-re-i, Tid-re-i, and Tid-re-id-re-i-de, O ! 
 
 Now there was Mat, and sturdy Pat, 
 
 And merry Morgan Murphy, O I 
 And Murdoch Maggs, and Turloch Skeggs, 
 
 M'Laughlin, and Dick Durphy, O I 
 And then the girls rigg'd out in whites, 
 
 Led on by dad O'Reily, O ! 
 All jigging as the merry pipes 
 Struck up a lilt so gaily, O ! 
 By the powers it would have done your heart good 
 to see the dojs and girls hopping over the gutters, two 
 by two in couples, one after another, while the piper 
 was jogging on before, playing a little bit of a 
 
 Tid-re-i, &C» 
 
 When Pat v.as asked, if his love wou'd last, 
 The ehancel echo'd with laughter, O ! 
 
MINSTREL. 147 
 
 By my soul, says Pat, you may well say that, 
 
 To the end of the world and after, O ! 
 When tenderly her hand he gripes, 
 
 And kisses her genteel y, O ! 
 While all in tune the merry pipes, 
 Struck up a lilt so gaily, O ! 
 When the ceremony was over, and Father Qui pes 
 told the bride that she was no longer Miss Kitty O'Don- 
 avan, but she was Mrs. Paddy O'Rafterty. to be sure 
 he did'nt take bold of her by the back of the neck, and 
 gave her such a kiss, that when he took his lips away, 
 you might have heard it all ovt r the chapel : whilst the 
 toys and girls, s<* ing so nate an example before them, 
 all began— and the piper who was seated near the com* 
 munion table, kept time with his— Tid-re-i, &c, 
 Then a roaring set at dinner were met, 
 
 Sofrolicksome and frisky, O ! 
 Potatoes galore, a skirraig or more, 
 
 With a flowing madder of whiskey, O ! 
 Then round to be sure did'nt go the swipes, 
 
 At the bride's expense so gaily. O ? 
 And still, as they glutted, the mem- pipes, 
 Struck up a lilt so gaiiy, O ! 
 For Pat, d'ye see, was n solved to do the thing in a 
 jonteel way, so he ordered in three large bowls of pra- 
 toes, and a dish fall of red herrings ; and by the pow- 
 ers, the beys and girls were so hungry, that while they 
 were mastificating the pratoes, their jaws went faster 
 lhan the pipers tlbow, who was seated in a comer 
 playing a little bit of a— Tid-re-i, £cc. 
 
 And then at night, O what delight ; 
 
 To seethtm all capering and prancing, O I 
 \n op"ra or ball was nothing at alt, 
 
 <'<>ijipared to the style of their dancing, ! 
 
J 48 MINSTREL. 
 
 And then to see old Father Quip 
 Beat time with his sbelalagh, O ! 
 
 While the chanter with his merry pipes 
 Struck up a lilt so gaily, O ! 
 By the powers of mud. if he happened to put his 
 thumb on the place where his little finger should be, 
 to be sure Paddy did'nt jump up from the throne of 
 turf where he Avas sitting and gave him such a 
 poult over the place where he took his snuff, that he 
 knocked him clean into the mud—' There's a suit of 
 brown for you,' says he, ' lie there you thief of the 
 world, til! the cows come home : ami let it learn you 
 all the days of your life, and forever after, if you die 
 to-morrow , that whenever you come to a gentleman's 
 wedding-, his funeral, or any such merry-making mat- 
 ter, not to be playing any of your damn'd cantibks, 
 nothing more or less, than the neat little bit of a— 
 fid-re-i, &c.' 
 
 And now- the knot so soaky are got, 
 
 They'll go to sleep without rocking, O .' 
 While brideinaids fair, so gravely prepare 
 
 For throwing of the stocking, O ! 
 And then to be sure went round the swipes, 
 
 At the bride's expense so freely, O '. 
 While to w ish them good night the mem pipes, 
 Struck up a lilt so gaily, O ! 
 So when the bride had detarmined to go to bed, Pad- 
 dy took the candle and lit them all to the door, and 
 Father Quipes, w ho had been putting too much whis- 
 key to his water, insisted on dancing home with Miss 
 Judy O'Dougharty ; so the piper got his bags in order, 
 and "aw ay they all went, capering to a neat little bit of j 
 a-Tid-re-i, &c. Dibdin, 
 
MINSTREL. 
 
 (I HUE WE MEET TOO SOON TO PART 
 
 Here we meet too soon to part, 
 Hero to leave will raise a smart, 
 Here I'll press thee to my heart, ^ 
 
 Wheiv none have place above thee ; 
 Here I'll, vow to love thee well, 
 Could but words unseal the spell, 
 Had but language strength to tell, 
 
 l 1 d say how much 1 love thee. 
 Hire we meet, &cc. 
 
 Here the rose that decks thy door, 
 Here the thorn that spreads thy bower, 
 Here the willow on the moor, 
 
 The birds at rest above thee ; 
 Had they sight of life to see, 
 Sense of soul like thee and me, 
 Soon might each a witness be — 
 
 How dotingly I love thee. 
 
 Here we meet, &c. T. Moore. 
 
 THE SOLDIER TIRED. 
 
 The soldier tired of war's alarms, 
 Forswears the clang of hostile arms, 
 And seoms the sptar and shield ; 
 But if the brazen trumpet sound, 
 He burns with conquests to be crown'd, 
 
 Vad dares rgain the field. Am* 
 
MINSTREL. 
 
 For exercise, and air, 
 To the fields I repair, 
 With spirits unclouded and light ; 
 The blisses I find 
 
 No sting- leaves behind, 
 
 But health and diversion unite, D . . . „ 
 
 HickerstoQ- 
 
 MILK, MY PRETTY MAIDS, BELOW. 
 
 At dawn of day, when other folks 
 
 In slumber drown their senses. 
 We milkmen sing:, and crack, and joke, 
 
 Scale styles and such-like fences : 
 But when from milking; home we're bound; 
 
 A sight more pleasing- than a show, 
 The rosy lasses greet the sound 
 
 Of milk, my pretty maids, below. 
 Milk my pretty maids, &c. 
 
 3 Tis milkman here, and milkman there. 
 
 Lord, how these wenches tease me ! 
 I'm coming, love, how much, my fair 
 
 Cries I.— There now be easy : 
 So what with toying now and then, 
 
 And kissing, too, as on I go ; 
 I scarce have time, like other men, 
 
 To cry— " Milk, my pretty maids below."* 
 Milk, my pretty maids, &c. 
 
 Though twice a-day I pay my court 
 Tg tUose that come to meet me, 
 
MINSTREL. 
 
 l pU ase them all, and that's your sort, 
 There's none can ever beat me ; 
 
 My walk I never will 'resign, 
 A better one I don't know ; 
 
 Of all the trades, let this be mine, 
 Of milk, my pretty maids below. 
 Milk, my pretty maids, 8cc. 
 
 T. Dibdin . 
 
 PRIMROSES. 
 
 When Nature first salutes the spring. 
 
 And fields all green appear. 
 The feather'd tribe their matins sing 
 
 And hail the verdant year ; 
 Ytt, though the country has its sweets, 
 
 Unknown to those in town, 
 'Tis sweet to hear in London streets, 
 
 What's cried both up and down. 
 Two bunches a penny, primrose 
 Two bunches a penny ! 
 
 Though winter may enrobe with snow 
 
 Fit Id, mountain, hill, and dale ; 
 Throughout the world bid tempests blow, 
 
 And icy chains prevail ; 
 Yet spring will come, with smiling face. 
 
 And spread its charms around, 
 Give freedom to the w at'ry race, 
 
 And wake the pleasing sound- 
 Two bunches a penny, Sec 
 
154 MINSTREL. 
 
 Thus winter must to spring give way, 
 
 As seasons glide along; 
 The rose-bud blossoms with the May, 
 
 The lark resumes its song ! 
 And, though the country has its sweets, 
 
 Unknown to those in town, 
 Tis sweet to hear, in London streets, 
 
 "What's ery'd both up and down, 
 
 Two bunches a penny, &c. Upton. 
 
 SMILE FROM THE GIRL OF MY HEART. 
 In the world's crooked path where I've been, 
 
 There to share of life's gloom my poor part, 
 The bright sunshine that softened the scene 
 
 Was a smile from the girl of my heart. 
 
 Not a swain, when the lark quits her nest, 
 
 But to labour with glee will depart, 
 If at eve he expects to be blest 
 
 With a smile from the girl of his heart. 
 
 Come then crosses and cares as they may. 
 Let my mind still this maxim impart, 
 
 That the comfort of man's fleeting day 
 Is a smile from the girl of his heart. Dudley. 
 
 TUTHEREE 00, AND TAN. 
 In Dundee there liv'd a carl, fu' blithe an' merry, 
 In Dundee there liv'd a bonny carl ; 
 
MINSTREL. 155 
 
 -,<line; spoiu»y was li is lot, 
 Wha imigg'd hersel' and often gqi 
 
 Tutheree oo, and tan. 
 She ltd him a life that fiT wae and weary, 
 
 Till the carl he vow'd himsel' he'd hang ; 
 And wou'd have don't, hut thought him first, 
 Of ends, a rope's end was the worst.— 
 Tutheree oo, and tan . 
 
 This carl'f wife she did na' play ber hubby fairly, 
 
 EIm was Andrew Mackintosh belied, 
 She made her husband's heart ache through, 
 And then she made his head ache too. 
 
 Tutheree oo, and tan. 
 ,c Wife," said he, u of life I'ze tired, and will gang 
 drown me," 
 She replied, ' gude wives ne'er contradict ;' 
 44 But should my spirit come," said he ; 
 1 Oh, I am spirit-proof,' said she. 
 
 Tutheree oo, and tan. 
 
 44 At the pond," said he, 44 if my poor heart should 
 fail me. 
 Will you run behind, and push me in ? M 
 Says she, ' a hard part 'tis to play, 
 But 'tis my duty to obey !' 
 
 Tutheree oo, and tan. 
 By a pond he stood, that was deep full a fathom, 
 
 On a hill stood she— the word he gave ; 
 Down galloping she came, when he 
 Just stepp'd aside, and in popp'd she ! 
 
 Tutheree oo, and tan. ^ Dibd- 
 
MIXSTREL. 
 
 WHAT THO' 'TIS TRUE. 
 
 Air-" Fly not yet.'' 
 Wha.ttho' 'tis true I've talk'd of love. 
 And other beauties idly strove 
 My heart to free from Mary's chain— 
 Unbroke the goklen links remain, 
 
 Entwined round ev'ry part : 
 For tho' another's charms I've praised, 
 Those chnrms some fond rememb'rance rais'd : 
 Perhaps 'twas not her tresses flowing, 
 Dimpled cheeks, or blushes glowing ; 
 
 Oh ! no— oh! no,— 
 'Twus Mary*s lip, 'twas Mary's eye, 
 'Tv.as Marv's se.f that caused the sigh. 
 
 And touch'd my conscious heart. 
 
 I own. betray'd by youth or wine, 
 I've sw ore a face or form divine ; 
 Or when some witching syren sung, 
 My yielding soul bf wilder'd hung 
 
 Enraptur'd with her art :, 
 But soon the feeble spell was gone, 
 Some faint resemblance rais'd alone ; 
 Could tones less sweet or looks less smiling, 
 Long delude my soul-beguiling: 
 
 Oh ! no— oh ! no.— 
 'Twas Man's voice, 'twas Mary's glance, 
 Twas Mary's self that caus'd the trance,- 
 
 Still Mary rul'd my heart. 
 
MINSTREL. 
 
 1VE BEEN ROAMING. 
 
 Pve b^i n roaming, I've been roaming, 
 
 Where (he meadow dew is sweet, 
 And I'm coming, and I'm coming, 
 
 With it > pearls upon my feet. 
 I've been roaming, I've been roaming, 
 
 O'er the rose and lily fair, 
 And I'm coming, and I'm coming, 
 
 With their blossoms in my hair. 
 
 i roaming, I've been roaming. 
 
 Where the honey-suckb en 
 And I'm coming, and I'm coming, 
 
 With its kisses on my lips. 
 I've been roaming, I've been roaming, 
 
 Over hill and over plain, 
 Aid I'm coming, and I'm coming, 
 
 To my bower back again. 
 
 WATER MELON. 
 
 "Twas noon, and the reapers reposed on the bank. 
 
 Where our rural repast had been spread ; 
 Beside us meander'd the rill where we drank, 
 
 And the green willow^ wav'd over head. 
 Lucinda, the queen of our rustical treat, 
 
 With smiles like the season, auspicious, 
 Had render'd the scene and the banquet moi 
 
 But, ch ! the desert was delicious. 
 
158 MINSTREL. 
 
 A melon, the sweetest that loaded the vine, 
 
 The kind-hearted damsel had brought ; 
 Its crimson core teem'd with the richest of wine<> 
 
 " How much like her kisses !" I thought. 
 And I said, as its nectarous juices I quaff'd, 
 
 " How vain are the joys of the vicious, 
 No tropical fruit ever fumish'd a draught, 
 
 So innocent, pure, and delicious. 
 
 ** In the seeds which embellish this red juicy core, 
 
 An emblem of life we may new , 
 For human enjoyments are thus sprinkled o'er 
 
 With specks of an ebony hue. 
 But if we are wise to discard from the mind 
 
 Every thought and affection that's vicious ; 
 Like the seed-speckled core of the melon, we'll find 
 
 Each innocent pleasure delicious." & Woodvtorth. 
 
 OFT IN THE STILLY NIGHT. 
 
 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 Bears cf boyhood's years, 
 
 The words of love then spoken, 
 The eyes that shone, now dimm'd and gonr, 
 The chetiful hearts now broken ! 
 Thus in the stilly night, &c. 
 
 
MINSTREL. 15* 
 
 When I remember all 
 
 The friends so link'd together, 
 I've seen around me fall, 
 Like leaves in winter weather, 
 I feel like one, who treads alone 
 
 Some banquet hall deserted, 
 Whose lights are fled, whose garland's dead, 
 And all but he deserted. 
 
 Thus in the stilly night, Sec. T. Moore, 
 
 JESSIE. 
 
 j True hearted was he, the sad swain o' the Yarrow, 
 \ And fair are the maids on the banks of the Ayr, 
 But by the sweet side o' the Nith's winding river 
 
 Are lovers as faithful, and maidens as fair : 
 j To equal young Jessie seek Scotland all over ; 
 
 To equal young Jessie you seek it in vain, 
 Grace, beauty, and elegance fetter her lover, 
 And maidenly modesty fixes the chain. 
 
 fresh is the rose in the gay, dewy morning, 
 
 And sweet is the lily at evening close ; 
 But in the fair presence o' lovely young Jessie, 
 
 Unseen is the lily, unheeded the rose. 
 Love sits in her smile, a wizard ensnaring ; 
 
 Enthron'd in her een he delivers his law ; 
 \nd still to her charms she alone is a stranger, 
 
 Her modest demeanours the jewel of a'. 
 
 Burns> 
 
loO MINSTREL. 
 
 [Communicated.] 
 
 THE HERO OF NEW ORLEANS 
 
 Air.—" Star Spangled Banner."' 
 
 Thou favourite of Heaven, the hope of the brave. 
 The noblest of patriots our country yet gave, 
 Secure in our hearts, thou reignest alone, 
 And shews to the world that Jackson's our own. 
 
 Then hail to the day, three cheers and huzza ! 
 
 When Jackson shall hold over freemen the sway, 
 And long may our country revere his great name, 
 From themorth to the south, from the lakes to the main* 
 
 Thy virtue's recorded on tablets of fame, 
 Thy feats are remembered, thy glories remain ; 
 The Horse Shoe, Talapoosa, thy deeds from afar. 
 And the acheivements perform'd in the Seminole war, 
 Have rais'd in our hearts a feeling divine, 
 And the reward of the patriot andsoldier are thine: 
 And long may our country, &c. 
 
 Then here's a health to " Old Hickory," the pride of 
 
 the west, 
 And a toast to each hero, who booty repressed, 
 Who beauty defended, and Britons made fly, 
 And at Orleans proclaim 'd, " we'll be free or we'll die;" 
 Then huzza, all huzza ! 'tis the " land of the free,* 
 \nd the Hero of Orleans our chieftain shall be : 
 And long mav our country, ccc. 
 
 MP. Smith 
 
MINSTREL. 
 
 LOUD AND CHILL WAS THE BLAST. 
 
 Sung by Mr. Hey I, 
 Loud and chill was the blast, and the bright snow fell 
 fast, 
 On a maiden's fair bosom who travers'd the plain ; 
 And oft a sad tear, on her cheek pale with fear, 
 Fell in sorrow for him who in battle was slain. 
 Fell in sorrow for him, &c. 
 But the proud foe had fled, where her Henry had bled. 
 Still with conquest and love had he thought on her 
 charms ; 
 Amidst the wild storm, he beheld her fair form, 
 And he kiss'd her, and warm'd her to life in his arras. 
 And he kiss'd her, Sec. 
 
 SCOTCH AIR. 
 
 Sung by Miss E. Jeffersor.. 
 And ye shall walk in silk attire, 
 
 And siller ha' to spare, 
 Gin ye'll consent to be his bride, 
 
 Nor think on Donald mair. 
 Oh I who would buy a silken gown 
 
 With a poor broken heart, 
 And what's to me a siller crown. 
 
 If from my love I part ? 
 And ye shall walk, &c- 
 
 I Would na walk in silk attire, 
 Nor braid wi' gems my hair, 
 Vol. I. L 
 
MINSTREL. 
 
 Gin he whose faith is pledg'd wi' mine 
 Were wrang'd an' grieving sair. 
 
 From infancy he lov'd me still, 
 And still my heart shall prove 
 
 How weel it can those vows fulfil , 
 Which first repaid his love. 
 I would na walk, &c. 
 
 WHY DOES AZURE DECK THE SKY 
 
 Why does azure deck the sky ? 
 
 *Tis to be like thy eyes of blue *, 
 Why is red the rose's dye ? 
 
 Because it is thy blush's hue. 
 All that's fair, by love's decree, 
 Has been made resembling thee ! 
 
 Why is falling snow so white, 
 
 But to be like thy bosom fair ? 
 Why are solar beams so bright ? 
 
 That they may seem thy golden hair ! 
 All that's bright, by love's decree, 
 Has been made resembling thee ! 
 
 Why are nature's beauties felt ? 
 
 Oh ! 'tis thine in her we see ! 
 Why has music power to melt P 
 
 Oh ! because it speaks like thee ! 
 Ail that's sweet, by love's decree, 
 Has been made resembling thee I TJi *ore. 
 
MINSTREL. 
 
 THE THORN. 
 
 From the white blossom'd sloe my dearChloe requested 
 
 A sprig her fair breast to adorn. 
 No, by heav'ns, I exelaim'd, may I perish, 
 
 If ever I plant in that bosom a thorn. 
 Then I shew her the ring-, and implor'd her to marry. 
 
 She blush'd like the dawning of morn, 
 44 Yes I'll consent," she replied, l * If you'll promise 
 
 That no jealous rival shall laugh me to scorn." 
 No, by heavens, I exelaim'd, may I perish, 
 
 If ever I plant in that bosom a thorn. 
 
 EVELEEN'S BOWER. 
 
 Oh i weep for the hour, 
 
 When to Eveleen's bower 
 The Lord of the valley with false vows came ; 
 
 The moon hid her light 
 
 From the heavens that night. 
 And wept behind the clouds o'er the maiden's sham' 1 
 
 The clouds pass'd soon 
 
 From the chaste cold moon, 
 And heaven smiled again with her vestal flame , 
 
 But none will see the day 
 
 When the clouds shall pass away, 
 Which that dark hour left upon Eveleeirs fum--. 
 
 The white snow lay 
 
 On the narrow path-way, 
 
154 MINSTREL. 
 
 Where the lord of the valley cross'd over the moor : 
 
 And many a deep print, 
 
 On the white snow's tint, 
 Show-d the track of his footstep to Eveleen's door. 
 
 The next sun's ray 
 
 Soon melted away 
 Every trace on the path where the false lord came : 
 
 But there's a light above, 
 
 Which alone can remove 
 That stain upon the snow of fair Eveleen's fame. 
 
 T.Moore. 
 
 THE MAID OF ARUTINA. 
 
 Forlorn among the Highland hills, 
 
 'Midst nature's wildest grandeur, 
 'Mid rocky dens and wooden glens, 
 
 With weary steps I wander. 
 The langsome way, the darksome day, 
 
 The mountain mist sae rainy, 
 Are nought to me when gaun to thee, 
 
 Sweet maid of Arutina. 
 
 Yon mossy rose-bud down the howe, 
 
 Just opening fresh and bonny, 
 Blooms fresh beneath the hazel bough, 
 
 And scarcely seen by ony ; 
 But fairer 'mid her native dale, 
 
 Obscurely blooms my Jeannie f 
 More fair than day or rosy May 
 
 The maid of Arutina. 
 
MINSTREL, 
 
 High on the mountain's lofty brow. 
 
 I view the distant ocean, 
 Where avarice courts her bounden prow, 
 
 Ambition courts promotion ; 
 Let fortune pour her golden store, 
 
 Her laurel'd favours many, 
 Give me but this, my soul's first wish, 
 
 The maid of Arutina. Tannahili , 
 
 ONE BOTTLE MORE. 
 
 Assist me ye lads, who have hearts void of guile, 
 To sing in the praise of old Ireland's isle, 
 Where true hospitality opens the door, 
 And friendship detains us for one bottle more. 
 One bottle more, arrah, one bottle more, 
 And friendship detains us for one bottle more. 
 
 Old England, your taunts on our country forbear ; 
 With our bulls and our brogueswe are true and since; 
 For if but one bottle remains in our store« 
 We have generous hearts to give that bottle more. 
 That bottle more, &c 
 
 At Candy's in Church-street, I'll sing of a set 
 Of six Irish blades who together had met: 
 Four bottles a-piece made us call for our score, 
 And nothing remained but one bottle more. 
 One bottle more, &c 
 
MINSTREL. 
 
 Our hill being paid, we were loth to depart, 
 
 For friendship had grappled each man by the heart, 
 
 Where the least touch, you know, makes an Irishman 
 
 roar, 
 And the whack from shillelah brought six bottles more. 
 
 Six bottles more, ccc. 
 
 Slow Phoebus had shone thro' our window so bright, 
 t^uite happy to view his blest children of light : 
 So we parted with hearts neither sorry nor sore, 
 Resolving next night to drink twelve bottles more. 
 Twelve bottles more, &e. 
 
 THE ROSE. 
 To a shady retreat fair Eliza I trac'd, 
 
 Sweet flowers spread thtir fragrance around, 
 She pluck'd from its bed a fond rose, and she plac'd 
 In her bosom this flower, her fair image to grace :— 
 
 She goddess of love might be crown'd. 
 
 i softly approach'd, and the rose thus address'd: 
 
 Thou sweetest of flowers that blows, 
 How envied thy lot. above mortals how blest, 
 Art thou thus on beauty's bosom caress 5 d, 
 
 Would fate had decreed me a rose. T, Moort 
 
 COMIC SONG. 
 Your laughter I'll try to provoke, 
 
 With wonders I've got in my travels ; 
 And first is a pig in a poke, 
 
 Next a law-case without any cavils \ 
 
MINSTREL. 1* 
 
 A utraw poker, a tiffany boat, 
 
 Paper boots to walk dry thro' the ditches ; 
 A new lignum vitse great coat, 
 Flint waistcoat and pair of glass breeche*. 
 Tol de rol, &c. 
 A dimity warming-pan, new ; 
 
 Steel night-cap and pair of lawn bellows ; 
 A yard wide foot rule, and then two 
 
 Odd shoes, that helong to odd fellows ; 
 Coma wheel-barrow, earthenware trig, 
 
 A book boo ml in wood with no leaves to't. 
 Besides a new vi -ivt ret wig 
 
 Lin'd with tripe, and a long pair of sleeves to't. 
 Tolde rol, &e. 
 A roal-scuttle trimm'd with Seotch gause. 
 
 Pickled crumpeis and harricoed muffins ; 
 Tallow stew-pan, nankeen chest of drawers. 
 Dumb alarm bell to frighten humguffins ; 
 Six knives and forks made of red tape, 
 
 A patent wash-leather polony ; 
 
 A gilt coat with a gingerbread cape, 
 
 And lin'd with the best macaroni. 
 
 Tol de roi, &c. 
 
 A plumb pudding made of inch deal, 
 
 A pot of mahogany capers ; 
 A gooseberry pie made of veal. 
 
 And stuff 'd with two three corner'd scrapers; 
 Sourcrout iweeten'd well with small coal, 
 
 A fricaseed carpenters mallet; 
 A cast-iron toad in a hole, 
 Aiid a monstrous great hole in the ballad. 
 
8 MINSTREL. 
 
 THE SAILOR BOY. 
 
 Air—" Minstrel Boy." 
 The Sailor Boy from his home has gone— 
 
 On his sea-beat deck you'll find him ; 
 To a foreign clime he has glided on, 
 
 And his dear friends left behind him. 
 u Land I love !" said the Sailor Boy, 
 
 " Though far upon the ocean, 
 My heart for thee shall beat with joy— 
 
 Thou art my soul's devotion." 
 The sea-breeze blew a fav'ring gate, 
 
 The Sailor's heart still burning ; 
 He gladly bent the glowing sail, 
 
 And homeward was returning ; 
 But the war-trump sounded o'er the deep, 
 
 And death was howling round him : 
 All broken was her peaceful sleep- 
 Columbia's foes surround him I 
 He boldly " drew his battle blade," 
 
 Nor fear'd a watery pillow ; 
 Full many a foe in death he laid, 
 
 Beneath the blood-stain'd billow ! 
 The Sailor fell i but thefoeman's hand 
 
 Could not quell his soul of bravery. 
 " I die !" he said, " but my native land, 
 
 Oh ! thou art free from slavery." 
 
 A FLAXEN HEADED COW-EOW 
 A flaxen headed cow-boy, as simple as may be, 
 And next a merry plough-boy, I whistled o ? er the lea; 
 
MINSTREL. >60 
 
 hut now a saucy footman I stmt in worsted lace. 
 Rut soon I'll be a butler and wag my jolly face; 
 When steward I'm promoted I'll snip a tradesman's 
 
 bill, 
 My master's coffers empty my pockets for to fill ; 
 When lolling in my chariot, so great a man I'll be, 
 You'll forget the little plough-boy that whistled o'er 
 
 the lea. 
 
 I'll buy votes at elections,but when I've made the pelf, 
 I'll stand poll for the parliament, and then vote in my- 
 self; 
 Whatevar's good for me, sir, I never will oppose. 
 When all my.ayes are sold off, why then I'll sell my 
 
 noes ; 
 I'll joke, harangue, and paragraph, with speeches 
 
 charm the ear, 
 And when I'm tir'd on my legs, I'll then sit down a 
 
 peer; 
 In court or city honour, so great a man I'll be, 
 You'll forget the little plough-boy that whistled o'er 
 the lea. O'Keeffe. 
 
 BARNEY LEAVE THE GIRLS ALONE. 
 
 Judy leads me such a life ! (repeat) 
 
 The devil ne'e: had such a wife ; 
 
 What can the matter be ? 
 For, if I sing the funny song 
 Of Dolly put the kettle on. 
 She's mocking at me all day long ; 
 
 What can the matter be ? 
 
170 MINSTREL. 
 
 Mr. Barney leave the girls alone H 
 Why don't you leave the girls alone* 
 
 And let them quiet be ? 
 Put the muffins down to roast, 
 Blow the fire and make the toast: 
 
 We'll all take tea. 
 Barney you're a wicked hoy, 
 And you do always play and toy 
 
 With all the gals you see. 
 Mr. Barney leave the girls alone! 
 Why don't you leave the girls alone, 
 
 And let them quiet be ? 
 Mr. Barney leave the girls alone ! 
 Why don't you leave the girls alone, 
 
 And let them quiet be ? 
 Barney rock the cradle, O ! 
 Or else you'll get the ladle O ! 
 
 When Judy harps to-day. 
 
 Spoken. — Barney, rock that cradle, or I'll break your 
 pfite with the ladle ; yes, you dog, if you don't mind 
 yonr F's and Q's, I'll comb your head with a three- 
 legged stool. You see, the other afternoon I was ax'd 
 out to take a comfortable dish of Jour shilling shou- 
 chong tea, and I sat alongside of Miss Polly Sprigging; 
 I saw she got quite smitten with my countenance — 
 says she to me, Mr. Barney will you have a game of 
 hunt the slipper ? With all my heart, says I— then ray 
 wife bawled out, from the other end of the parlour, 
 
 Mr. Barney leave the girls alone, 
 Why don't you leave the girls alone, 
 And let them quiet be ? 
 
MINSTREL. 171 
 
 Judy she loves whiskey, O ! 
 She goes to uncle's shop at night, 
 
 And spends an hour or two ; 
 Then, Barmy, what must Barney do, 
 But take a drop of whiskey too, 
 And toast the girl that's kind and true, 
 For that's the way with me. 
 Spoken.— Yes. that is the way we go, to he sure, and 
 to say the truth on it. it is Done of th»- pleasantest. 
 You see I loves a good dinner, hut somehow or other 
 we don't get much in tlu- week clays, a pig's foot and 
 a carrot, no gn at choice : hut on Sunday we alwa5's 
 have a shoulder of mutton stack round with turnips— 
 I like a piece of the brown, hut my wife, she always 
 tucks me off with the knuckle hone or the shoulder 
 blade, or a piece; of tie dry Bap, to the tune of 
 Mr. Barney leave the girls alone ! 
 Why don't you leave the girls alone, 
 And let them quiet be? 
 
 THE SOLDIER. 
 Row happy the soldier who lives on his pay. 
 And spends half a crown, out of sixpence a day ; 
 Yet fears neither justice s, warrants, nor hums, 
 But pays all his debts, with the roll of his drums ; 
 With a row Je dow, &c. 
 
 He cares not a marvedy how the world gor-s, 
 lie's provided with quarters, and money, and clothe*, 
 He laughs at all sorrow whenever it comes, 
 And rattles away with the roll of his drums ; 
 With a row de dow, &.c. 
 
172 MINSTREL. 
 
 The drum is his glory, his joy, and delight, 
 It leads him to pleasure, as ^vell as to fight ; 
 No girl when she hears it, though ever so glum 
 But packs up her tatters, and follows the drum ; 
 
 With a row de dow, &c. 0'Ke?jjt 
 
 THE EIRKS OF ABERFELDY. 
 
 Bonnie lassie, will ye gang, will ye gang, will y€ 
 gang, 
 
 Bonnie lassie, will ye gang to the Birks of Aber- 
 feldy ? 
 
 Now simmer blinks on flow'ry braes, 
 And o'er the crystal streamlet plays ; 
 Come, let us spend the lightsome days 
 In the birks of Aberfeldy. 
 
 Bonnie lassie will ye gang, &c. 
 
 While o'er their heads the hazel hing, 
 The little birdies blithely sing, 
 Or lightly flit on wanton wing, 
 In the birks of Aberfeldy. 
 
 Bonnie lassie will ye gang, &c. 
 
 The braes ascend like lofty wa ; s, 
 The foaming stream deep roaring fa's, 
 O'er hung wi' fragrant spreading shaw , 
 The birks of Aberfeldy. 
 
 Bonnie lassie will ye gang, &c. 
 
 The hoary cliffs are crown'd wi' flowers. 
 White o'er the linns the burnie r>ours, 
 
MINSTREL. 173 
 
 And, rising, meets wi' misty showers 
 The birks of Aberfeldy. 
 
 Bonnie lassie will ye gang, &c 
 Let fortune's gifts at random flee, 
 They ne'er shall draw a wish from me, 
 Supremely blest wi' love and thee, 
 In the birks of Aberfeldy. 
 
 Bonnie lassie will ye gang, Sec. 
 
 PRETTY DEARY. 
 Vdown a green valley there liv'd an old maid, 
 .Vho being past sixty, her charms 'gan to fade- 
 She of waiting for husbands was weary, 
 he was monstrous rich, that for me was enough, 
 nd sadly I wanted to finger the stuff, 
 So says I, will you marry me, deary ? 
 
 Pretty deaiy, O la fal, &c. 
 ays she, you embarrass me, coming to woo, 
 nd she tried how to blush, but she blush'd rather blue, 
 For her cheeks of the roses were weary, 
 ays she, I am told you're a sad little man, 
 nd cheat all the dear pretty girls that you can ; 
 Says I. don't believe it, my deary. 
 
 Pretty deary, O la fal, &c. 
 ae consented that I for the license should go,' 
 r hen across her, meantime, came a tall Irish beau, 
 Who, like me, in pockets was peery. 
 ut of his calf's head, such a sheep's eye threw he, 
 hat a queer little hop o' my thumb she call'd me, 
 And he diddled me out o' my deary. 
 
 Base deary ! O la fal, &c. 
 
MINSTREL. 
 
 THE GLASSES SPARKLE ON THE BOARD. 
 
 The glasses sparkle on the board, 
 
 The wine is ruby bright, 
 The reign of pleasure is restor'd, 
 
 Of ease and gay delight ; 
 The day is gone, the night's our own. 
 
 Then let us feast the soul, 
 If any pain, or care remain, 
 
 Why drown it in the bowl, 
 
 Why drown it in a bowl, 
 If any pain, or care remain, 
 
 Why drown it in the bowl. 
 
 This world, they say's a world of wo, 
 
 But that I do deny ; 
 Can sorrow from the goblet flow, 
 
 Or pain from beauty's eye ? 
 The wise are fools, with all their rules, 
 
 When they would joy control ; 
 If life's a pain, I say again. 
 
 Let's drown it in the bowl. 
 
 That time flies fast, the poet sings, 
 
 Then surely it is wise, 
 In rosy wine to dip his wings, 
 
 And seize him as he flies ; 
 This night is ours, then strew with fiowen 
 
 The moments as they roll, 
 If any pain, or care remain, 
 
 Why drown it in a bowl. Mvrru, 
 
MINSTREL. 175 
 
 THE BANKS OP' THE DEE. 
 
 Twas Summer, and softly the breezes were blowing, 
 And sweetly the nightingale sung from the tree, 
 
 At the foot of a rock where a river is flowing ; 
 I sat myself down on th« banks of the Dee. 
 
 Flow on, lovely Dee, flow on thou sweet river, 
 Thy banks purest stream shall be dear to me ever ; 
 
 lor there I fii-st gain'd the affection and favour 
 Of Jamie, the glory and pride of the Dee. 
 
 iut now he's gone fiom me,and left me thus mourning- 
 To fight for his country— for \aliunt is he ; 
 
 ind ah ! there's no hope of his speedy returning, 
 To wander again on the banks of the Dee. 
 
 le's gone, haph ss youth, o'er the loud roaring billows, 
 The kindest and sweetest of all the gay fellows, 
 nd left me to stray 'mongst the once loved willows, 
 The loneliest maid on the banks of the Dee. 
 
 ut time and my prayers may perhaps yet restore him, 
 Blest peace may restore my dear shepherd to me ; 
 ad when he returns, with such care I'll watch o'er 
 
 him, 
 He never shall leave the sweet banks of the Dee. 
 
 le Dee then shall flow, all its beauties displaying ; 
 The lamb on its banks shall again be seen playing ; 
 bile I with my Jamie am carelessly straying, 
 \ixd tasting again all the sweets of the Dec. 
 
 Home. 
 
MINSTREL- 
 MARY. 
 When first I saw my Mary's face, 
 I ken'd na weel what ail'd me. 
 My heart gade tiutterin", pittie pat, 
 
 My een began to fail me. 
 She's ay sae genty, trig and neat, 
 A grace does round her hover, 
 Ae look depriv'd me o' my heart, 
 And I became her lover. 
 
 She's ay sae bonny, blythe and gay, 
 
 She's ay sae blythe and cheerie. 
 She's ay sae bonny, blythe and gay, 
 O gin I was her dearie. 
 
 Had I Dundas's hale estate, 
 
 Or Hoptoun's pride to shine in, 
 Did warlike laurels crown my head, 
 
 Wi' safter bays entwinin', 
 I'd lay them a' at Mary's feet. 
 
 Could I but hope to move her, 
 And prouder than a squire or knight 
 
 I'd be when Mary's lover. 
 She's ay sae bonnie, See- 
 But O I'm fear'd some bonnier lad. 
 
 Will gain my Mary's favour ; 
 If sae, may ev'ry bliss be hers, 
 
 Though I maun never ha' her : 
 For gang she east, or gang she west, 
 
 'Twixt Forth and Clyde all over, 
 While men have ears, or eyes, or taste, 
 She'll always find a lover. 
 
 She's ay sae bonny, &c. Burm. 
 
MIN5~ 1*7 
 
 UiY-CHEEK'D PA 1 IV 
 Down \n yon village I live so sung-. 
 Th« > call me Giles tlie ploughman's boy ; 
 Through woods and o'er stiles, as I trudge many mil< =. 
 1 whistle, I whistle, and whoop, gee, woo, Jerry. 
 Mj work being done, to the lawn there 1 fly, 
 Where the lads at the lasses all look very sly ; 
 And I'/, deeply in love with a girl, it is true, 
 But 1 know what I know, but I munna tell you : 
 But I'll whistle, I'll whistle, for of all the girls I e'er 
 did i 
 O, cherry-eht ek'd Patty for me. 
 
 Though the squire so great, so happy may'nt be 
 A » poor simple Giles die ploughman's boy : 
 No mai rer addle my pate. 
 
 Hut I'll whistle, I'll whistle, and w hoop gee m oo, Jerry . 
 Now cherry-cheek'd Patty she lives in a vale, 
 Whom L help'd o'er the stile with her milking pad : 
 And Patty has a like notion of me, it is true. 
 And I know what I know, but I munna tell 
 
 But I'll whistle. &c. 
 
 and strong, and willing to work, 
 And \\ hen the lark rises, off trudges I : 
 lie. cows up I call, and harness old Ball, 
 I whistle, I whistle, and whoop, gee woo, Jerry. 
 rhen I'/e fifty good shillings, my luck has been such, 
 \nd a lad's not to be grinn'd at that's gotten so much. 
 \nd when that I'm married to Patty so true, 
 know what I know, but I munna tell you. 
 
 But I'll whistle. &C. 
 Vol. I. M 
 
178 MINSTREL. 
 
 THE WILD IRISH BOY. 
 I-ra a wild Irish boy, that is just come to town, 
 To see this great city of fame and renown : 
 One day, in my travels, I chanced for to stop 
 In a thumping big field, and they called it George's 
 Park. 
 Musha tu de I ah ! folderiddle rol de ri tu de I ah .' 
 I had not been there long, till I chanc'd for to spy 
 A crowd of stout boys, who were boxing hard by : 
 Och I says I, my dear honeys, leave off with your tricks, 
 For its my country's fashion to box with two sticks. 
 Musha tu de I ah, &c 
 
 Then a big-headed butcher, just standing hard-by. 
 Says, hold your tongne, Pat, or I'll knock out your eye: 
 For fear of my eyes, not a word could I speak, 
 And the heart in my body I thought it would break. 
 
 Musha tu de I ahj Sec. 
 Then looking around me, and try in l I 
 Some stout Irish lad, from my own country, 
 When one stepping up, put his hand on my back. 
 And says, -•* rap at him Paddy M'Laughlan O 1 Whack." 
 
 Musha tu de I ah, Sec. 
 
 Then I being put up, by the word of command, 
 I seized my shillalah right tight in my hand ; 
 Och ! the first poke I gave him, 'twas over the head, 
 You'd thought,in your soul, he'd been seven years dead. 
 
 Musha tu de I ah, &c. 
 In less than ten minutes, we clear'd the whole green, 
 And the devil a dandy was there to be seen : 
 
MINSTREL. 
 
 *• Och !" says one to the other, "why don't you run 
 
 quick, 
 Don't you see the wild Irishman with his big 5tick. 
 
 Musha tu de I ah, &c. 
 And now I'm noted all over the city, 
 For I've flogg'd all the bullies, and think it no pity 
 Neither wife, maid, or widow, will e'er turn her back, 
 When she hears the soft name of M'LaughlanO' Whack 
 
 Musha tu de I ah, &c. 
 
 TOM STARBOARD. 
 
 Tom Starboard was a lover true, 
 
 As brave a tar as ever sail'd ; 
 The duties ablest seamen do 
 
 Tom did, and never yet had fail'd. 
 But, wreck'd as he was homeward bound, 
 
 Within a league of England's coast, 
 Love saved him sure from being drown'd, 
 
 For more than half the crew were lost. 
 
 In fight Tom Starboard knew no fear ; 
 
 Nay, when he lost an arm, resign'd, 
 Said, love for Nan, his only dear, 
 
 Had saved his life, and Fate was kind : 
 And now, though wreck'd, yet Tom retura'd, 
 
 Of all past dangers made a joke ; 
 For still his manly bosom burn'd 
 
 With love— his heart was heart of oak, 
 His strength restored, Tom nobly ran 
 
 To cheer his Nan, his destined bri 
 
ft MINSTREL. 
 
 But false report had brought to Nan, 
 Six months before, that Tom had died. 
 
 With grief she daily pined away, 
 No remedy her life could save ; 
 
 And Tom return'd— the very day 
 1 hey laid his Nancy in the grave. T. Knight. 
 
 DEAR IS MY LITTLE NATIVE VALE. 
 Dear is my little native vale ! 
 
 The ling-dove builds and warbles there : 
 Close by my cot she tells her tale 
 
 To eveiy passing villager ; 
 The squirrel leaps from tree to tree, 
 And shells his nuts at liberty. 
 In orange groves and myrtle bowers, 
 
 That breathe a gale of fragrance round, 
 I charm the fairy-footed hours 
 
 With my loved lute's romantic sound ; 
 Or crowns of living laurels weave 
 For those who win the race at eve. 
 
 The shepherd's horn at break of day, 
 The ballet dance in twilight glade, 
 
 The canzonet and roundelay, 
 
 Sung in the silent greenwood shade : 
 
 These simple joys, that never fail, 
 
 Shall bind me to my native vale. Roger*. 
 
 ROY'S WIFE OF ALDIVALLOCH. 
 Roy's wife of Aldivallocb, 
 Roy's wife of Aldivalloch, 
 
MINSTREL. Ml 
 
 Wat ye how she cheated me, 
 As 1 came o'er the braes of Balloch. 
 
 Mr vnw'd, she swore she wad be mine, 
 
 She said she lo'ed me best of ony, 
 But oh ! the fickle, faithless quean, 
 
 She's ta'en the carle and kit her Johnny. 
 Roy's wife, &c 
 
 O she was a canty quean, 
 
 And weel could dance a Highland walloch, 
 How happy I, had she been mine, 
 
 Or I'd been Roy of Aldivalloch. 
 Roy's wife, &c, 
 Her face sae fair, her een sae clear, 
 
 Her wee bit mou' sae sweet and bonny, 
 To me she ever will be dear, 
 
 Though she forever left her Johnny. 
 
 Roy's wife, &c. Mrs. Grant. 
 
 THE GARLAND OF LOVE. 
 
 low sweet are the flowers that grow by yon fountain, 
 And sweet are the cowslips that spangle the grove ; 
 nd sweet is the breeze that blows over the mountain, 
 But sweeter by far is the lad that I love. 
 Then I'll weave a gay garland, 
 A fresh blooming garland, 
 With lilies and roses, 
 And sweet blooming posies, 
 To give to the lad my heart tells me I love. 
 
 was down in the vale, where the sweet Torza gliding' 
 Its murmuring stream ripples thro' the dark grove, 
 
1*2 MINSTREL. 
 
 I own'd what I felt, all my passion confiding, 
 To ease the fond sighs of the lad that I love. 
 
 Then I'll weave, &c. T. Hook. 
 
 LIFE LET US CHERISH. 
 
 Life let us cherish 
 
 While yet the taper glows, 
 And the fresh flow'ret, 
 Pluck ere it close. 
 Why are we fond of toil and care 
 Why choose the rankling thorn to wear, 
 And heedless by the lily stray, 
 Which blossoms in our way. 
 Life let us cherish, See. 
 
 When clouds obscure the atmosphere, 
 And forked lightnings rend the air, 
 The sun resumes his silver crest, 
 And smiles a-dorn the west. 
 Life let us cherish, &c. 
 
 The genial seasons soon are o'er, 
 Then let us ere we quit this shore, 
 Contentment seek, it is life's rest, 
 The sunshine of the breast. 
 
 Life let us cherish, &c. 
 Away with every toil and care, 
 And cease the rankling thorn to wear, 
 With manful heart life's conflicts meet, 
 Till death sounds the retreat. 
 
 Life let us cherish, &c 
 
MINSTREL. 
 
 I KE MEETING OF THE WATERS. 
 There is not in this wide world a valley so sweet, 
 As the vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet ; 
 Oh I the last ray of feeling and life sliall depart, 
 Ere the bloom of that valley 6hall fade from my heart. 
 
 Yet it was not that nature had shed o'er the scene 
 Her purest of crystal and brightest of green ; 
 'Twas not the soft magic of streamlet or hill, 
 Oh ! no,— it was something more exquisite still. 
 Twas that friends, the beloved of my bosom were near, 
 Who made each dear scene of enchantment more dear, 
 And who ft It how the blest charms of nature improve. 
 When we see them reflected from looks that we love. 
 Sweet vale of Ovoca ! how calm could I rest 
 In thy bosom of shade with the friends I love best : 
 Where the storms which we feel in this cold world 
 
 should cease. 
 
 And our hearts, like thy waters, be mingled in peace ! 
 
 T. Moore. 
 
 LOGIE OF BUCHAN. 
 O! Logie of Buchan, O ! Logie the laird, 
 They have ta'en awa Jamie that delv'd in the yard, 
 Who play'd on the pipe \vi' the viol sae sma', 
 They hae ta'en awa Jamie, the flower o' them a\ 
 He said, think na lang lassie, though I gang awa. 
 He said, think na lang lassie, though I gang awa, 
 For the simmer is coming, cauld winter's awa, 
 And I'll come and see thee, in spite o' them a\ 
 
iS4 MINSTREL. 
 
 Sandy has ousin, has gear, and has kye : 
 A house, and a hadden, and siller for by, 
 But I'd tak' min ain lad wi' his staff in his hand, 
 .Before I'd ha'e him \vi' his houses and land. 
 He said, &c. 
 
 If y daddy looks sulky, my mither looks sour, 
 I hey frown upon Jamie, because he is poor, 
 Tho' I Io'e them as well as a daughter should do, 
 They're na half so dear to me, Jamie, as you. 
 He said, &c. 
 
 I sit on my creepie, and spin at my wheel, 
 And I think on the laddie that loed me sae weel, 
 He had but a sixpense, he brake it in twa, 
 And he gied me the ha'f o't when he ga'd awa. 
 Then haste ye back, Jamie, and bide na awa, 
 Then haste ye back, Jamie, and bide na awa, 
 Simmer is comhr, cauld winter's awa, 
 And ye'll come and see me in spite of them a'. 
 
 Burns* 
 
 THE HARP. 
 
 The harp that once through Tara's hall* 
 
 The soul of music shed, 
 Now hangs as mute on Tara's walls 
 
 As if that soul were fled. 
 So sleeps the pride of former days, 
 
 So glory r s thrill is o'er ; 
 And hearts that once beat high for prai»e. 
 
 Now feel that pulse no more. 
 
MINSTREL. JRS 
 
 Ko men- the chiefs and ladies bright, 
 
 The harp of Tara swells ; 
 i he chord, alone, that breaks at night, 
 
 lu Lile of ruin tells. 
 Thus freedom now so seldom wakes, 
 
 The only throb she give s, 
 Is when some heart indignant breaks, 
 
 To show that still she lives. T. Moore. 
 
 JESSIE, THE FLOWER O' DUMBLANE. 
 
 The sun has gane down o'er the lofty Benlomond, 
 
 And left the red clouds to preside o'er the scene, 
 
 While lanely I stray in the calm simmer gloaming, 
 
 To muse on sweet Jessie, the flow'r o' Dumblane ; 
 
 Mow sweet is the brier wi'its saft faulding blossom, 
 
 And sweet is the birk wi' its mantle o' green, 
 Yet sweeter an' fairer an' dear to my bosom. 
 Is lovely young Jessie, the flower o' Dumblane, 
 Is lovely young Jessie, is lovely young Jessie, 
 Is lovely young Jessie, the flow'r o' Dumblane. 
 
 She's modest as ony, an' blyth as she ? s bonny. 
 
 For guileless simplicity marks her its ain, 
 An 5 far be the villian divested o' feeling, 
 Wha'd blight in its bloom the sweet flow'r o' Dum- 
 blane ; 
 , Sing on, thou sweet Mavis, thy hymn to the e'ening, 
 
 Thou'rt dear to the echoes o' Calderwood glen, 
 Sae dear to this bosom, sae artless and winning. 
 Is charming young Jessie, the flow'r o' Dumblane. 
 Is charming young Jessie, &c. 
 
186 MINSTREL. 
 
 How lost were my days, till I met wi' my Jessie, 
 
 The sports o' the city seem*d foolish and vain, 
 I ne : er saw a nymph I would ca' my dear lassie, 
 
 Till fcharm'd wi' sweet Jessie, the fiow'r o' Dum- 
 blane ; 
 Tho' mine were the station o' loftiest grandeur, 
 
 Amidst its profusion Fd languish in pain, 
 An' reckon as naething the height o' its splendour, 
 
 If wanting sweet Jessie, the fiow'r o' Dumblane. 
 
 TannakilL 
 
 THE POST CAPTAIN. 
 
 When Steerwell heard me first impart 
 
 Our brave commander's story, 
 With ardent zeal, his youthful heart 
 
 Sweli'd high for naval glory, 
 Resolv'd to gain a valiant name, 
 
 For bold adventure eager, 
 When first a little cabin boy on board of the Fame, 
 
 He would hold on the jigger. 
 While ten jolly tars, with the musical Joe, 
 Hove the anchor a-peak, singing, yeo, heave yec. 
 
 To hand top-ga'nt sails next he learnt, 
 
 With quickness, care and spirit, 
 Whose generous master soon discern'd, 
 
 And priz'd his dawning merit : 
 He taught him soon to reef and steer, 
 
 When storms convuls'd the ocean, 
 Where shoals made skilful vet'rans fear, 
 
 Which mark'd him for promotion* 
 
MINSTREL. I8T 
 
 For none to the pilot e'er answered like he, 
 When he gave the command, " Hard a-port, helm's a- 
 Ite.*' 
 
 For valour, skill and worth renown'd, 
 
 The foe he oft defeated, 
 And now with fame and fortune crown'd, 
 
 Post-captain he is rated ; 
 Who, should our injur'd country bleed, 
 
 Still .boldly he'd defend her— 
 
 lest with peace, if beauty plead, 
 
 He'll prove his heart as tender. 
 
 Unaw'd yet mild, to high and low, 
 To pcor and wealthy, friend or foe- 
 Wounded tars share his wealth, 
 All the fleet drink his health— 
 Priz'd be such hearts, for aloft they must go, 
 Who always are ready compassion to show, 
 To a brave conquer'd foe. Dibdin. 
 
 WIFE. CHILDREN, AND FRIENDS. 
 
 Air.—" Humours of Glen.''' 
 When the black letter'd list to the gods was presented. 
 
 The list of what fate for each mortal intends, 
 At the long string of ills a kind goddess relented, 
 And slipp'd in three blessings, wife, children and 
 friends. 
 
 In' vein surly Pluto declared he was cheated. 
 And justice divine could not compass her ends, 
 
18S MINSTREL. 
 
 The scheme of man's penance he swore^v. as defeated. 
 For earth becomes heaven with wife, children, and 
 
 friends. 
 
 If the stock of our bliss is in stranger hands rested. 
 The fund, ill secured, oft in bankruptcy • 
 
 But the heart issues bills, which are never protested, 
 When drawn on the firm of— wife, children, and 
 friends. 
 
 The soldier, whose deeds live immortal in story, 
 When duty to far distant latitudes sends, 
 
 With transport would barter whole ages of glory 
 For one liappy hour with wife, children, and friends. 
 
 Though valour still glows in his life's waning embers, 
 The death- wounded tar, who his colours defends, 
 
 Drops a tear of regret, as he dying remembers, 
 How blest was his .home with wife, children, and 
 friends. 
 
 Tho' the spice-breathing gale o'er his caravan hovers, 
 Though around him Arabia's whole fragrance de- 
 scends , 
 The merchant still thinks of the woodbine that covers 
 The bower where he sat with wife, children, and 
 friends. 
 
 The day-spring of youth, still unclouded with sorrow, 
 Alone on itself for enjoyment depends, 
 
 But drear is the twilight of age if it borrow 
 No warmth from the smiles of wife, children, and 
 friends. 
 
MIN5TREL. 1S» 
 
 Let the breath of renown ev< r freshen and nourish 
 The laurel that o'er her fair favourites bends. 
 
 O'er me wave the willow, and long may it flourish, 
 Bedew'd with the tears of wife, children, and friends. 
 
 Let us drink, for my song growing graver and graver 
 
 To subjects too solemn insensibly tends ; 
 Let us drink, pledge me high, lore and virtue shall 
 flavour 
 The glass that we fill to wife, children, and friends. 
 
 Spencer. 
 
 LIBERTY TREE. 
 
 In a chariot of light from the regions of day, 
 
 The goddess of Liberty earn • ; 
 Ten thousand celestials directed the way, 
 
 And hither conducted the dame. 
 A fair budding branch from the gardens above, 
 
 Where nullions with millions agree, 
 She brought in her hand as a pledge of her love, 
 
 The plant she nam'd Liberty Tree. 
 
 The celestial exotic struck deep in the ground. 
 
 Like a native it flourish'd and bore ; 
 The fame of its fruit drew the nations around, 
 
 To seek out its peaceable shore. 
 I nuundful of titles, or distinctions, they came, 
 
 For freemen like brothers agree ; 
 "With one spirit endued, they one friendship pursued, 
 
 And their temple was Liberty Tree. 
 
190 MINSTREL. 
 
 Beneath this fair tree, like the patriarchs of old, 
 
 Their bread in contentment they eat; 
 Unvex'd with the troubles of silver and gold, 
 
 The cares of the grand and the great ; 
 With timber and tar they old England supplied, 
 
 And supported her power on the sea ; 
 Her battles they fought without getting a groat 5 
 
 For the honour of Liberty Tree. 
 
 But hear, O ye swains, ('tis a tale most profane) 
 
 How all the tyrannical powers, 
 Kings, Commons, and Lords, are uniting amain, 
 
 To cut down this guardian of ours : 
 From the east to the west blow the trumpet to arms. 
 
 Thro' the land let the sound of it flee ; 
 Let the far and the near all unite with a cheer, 
 
 In defence of our Liberty Tree. T. Pabnt. 
 
 ALKNOMOOK. 
 The sun sets at night and the stars shun the day, 
 
 But glory remains when the light fades away ; 
 Begin ye tormentors, your threats are in vain, 
 
 For the son of Alknomook shall never complain. 
 
 Remember the arrows he shot from his bow, 
 Remember your chiefs by his hatchet laid low ; 
 
 Why so slow ! do you wait till I shrink from my pain? 
 No— the son of Alknomook shall never complain. 
 
 Remember the wood, where in ambush we lay, 
 And the scalps which we bore from your nation away, 
 
MINSTREL. 191 
 
 Kow t.'ic ilame rises fast, you exult in my pain ; 
 But the son of Alknoinook shall never eomplairi , 
 
 I go to the land where my father is gone ; 
 
 His ghost shall rejoice in the fame of his son , 
 Death comes like a friend, to relieve me from pain ; 
 
 And thy son, oh ! Alknomook, ha3 scorn'd to com- 
 plain. Hunter. 
 
 MY ONLY JO AND DEARIE O. 
 Thy cheek is o' the rose's hue, 
 
 My only Jo and dearie O, 
 Thy neck is like the siller dew, 
 
 Upon the bank sae brierie O, 
 Thy teeth are o' the ivory, 
 
 O sweet's the twinkle o' thine ee' 
 5<ae joy, nae pleasure, blinks on me, 
 
 My only Jo and dearie O. 
 
 The birdie sings upon the thorn, 
 
 Its sang o' joy, fu' cheerie O, 
 Rejoicing in the simmer morn, 
 
 Nae care to mak' it eerie O; 
 But little kens the sangster sweet, 
 
 Aught o' the care I hae to meet, 
 That gars my restless bo3om beat, 
 
 My only Jo and dearie O. 
 
 When we were barnies on yon brae, 
 And youth was blinkin bonnie O, 
 
 Aft we wad daff the lelang day, 
 Our joy fu' sweet and.monie O, 
 
1*2 MINSTREL. 
 
 I own'd what I felt, all my passion confiding, 
 To ease the fond sighs of the lad that I love. 
 
 Then I'll weave, &c. T. Hook. 
 
 LIFE LET US CHERISH. 
 
 Life let us cherish 
 
 While yet the taper glows, 
 And the fresh floweret, 
 Pluck ere it close. 
 Why are we fond of toil and care 
 Why choose the rankling thorn to wear, 
 And heedless by the lily stray, 
 Which blossoms in our way. 
 Life let us cherish, ike. 
 
 When clouds obscure the atmosphere, 
 And forked lightnings rend the air, 
 The sun resumes his silver crest, 
 And smiles a-dorn the west. 
 Life let us cherish, &c. 
 
 genial seasons soon are o'er, 
 Then let us ere we quit this shore, 
 Contentment seek, it is life's rest, 
 The sunshine of the breast. 
 
 Life let us cherish, &c. 
 Away with every toil and care. 
 And cease the rankling thorn to wear, 
 manful heart life's conflicts meet. 
 Till death sounds the retreat. 
 
 Life let us cherish, &c 
 
MINSTREL- 
 IKE MEETING OF THE WATERS. 
 rh«. re is net in this wide world a valley so sweet, 
 As the vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet ; 
 Oh ! the last ray of feeling and life shall depart, 
 Ere the bloom of that valley shall fade from my heart. 
 
 Vet it was not that nature had shed o'er the scent 
 Her purest of crystal and brightest of green ; 
 'Twas not the soft magic of streamlet or hill, 
 Oh ! nc,— it was something more exquisite still. 
 'Twas that friends, the beloved of my bosom were near, 
 Who made each dear scene of enchantment more dear, 
 And who felt how the blest charms of nature improve. 
 When we see them reflected from looks that we love. 
 Sweet wile of Ovoca 1 how calm could I rest 
 In thy bosom of shade with the friends I love best ; 
 Where the storms which we feel in this cold world 
 
 should cease. 
 And our hearts, like thy waters, be mingled in peace! 
 
 T. Moore. 
 
 LOGIE OF BUCHAN. 
 O! Logic of Buchan, O! Logie the laird, 
 They have ta'en awa Jamie that delv'd in the yard, 
 Who play'd on the pipe wi' the viol sae sma*, 
 They hae ta'en awa Jamie, the flower o' them a'. 
 He said, think na lang lassie, though I gang awa. 
 He said, think na lang lassie, though I gang awa, 
 For the simmer is coming, cauld winter's awa, 
 And I'll ccme and see thee, in spite o" them a". 
 
JS4 MINSTREL. 
 
 Sandy has ousin, has gear, and has kye : 
 A house, and a hadden, and siller for by, 
 But I'd tak' rain ain lad wi' his staff in his hand. 
 Before I'd ha'e him wi ? his houses and land. 
 He said, &c. 
 
 if y daddy looks sulky, my mither looks sour, 
 They frown upon Jamie, because he is poor, 
 Tho' I lo'e them as well as a daughter should do, 
 They're na half so dear to me, Jamie, as you. 
 He said, &c. 
 
 1 sit on my creepie, and spin at my wheel, 
 And I think on the laddie that loed me sae weel, 
 He liad but a sixpense, he brake it in twa, 
 And he gied me the ha'f o't when he ga'd awa. 
 Then haste ye back, Jamie, and bide na awa, 
 Then haste ye back, Jamie, and bide na awa, 
 Simmer is comhf, cauld winter's awa, 
 And yell come and see me in spite of them a'. 
 
 Burns* 
 
 THE HARP. 
 
 The harp that once through Tara's hall* 
 
 The soul of music shed, 
 Now hangs as mute on Tara's walls 
 
 As if that soul were fled. 
 So sleeps the pride of former days, 
 
 So glory's thrill is o'er ; 
 And hearts that once beat high for prai»e. 
 
 Now feel that pulse no more. 
 
MINSTREL. 185 
 
 V o more the chiefs and ladies bright, 
 
 The harp of Tara swells ; 
 The chord, alone, that breaks at night, 
 
 Iu fcde of ruin tells. 
 T hus freedom now so seldom wakes, 
 
 The only throb she gives, 
 Is when some heart indignant breaks, 
 
 To show that still she lives. T. Moore. 
 
 JESSIE, THE FLOWER O' DUMBLANE. 
 
 The sun has gane down o'er the lofty Benlomond, 
 
 And left the red clouds to preside o'er the scene, 
 
 While lanely I stray in the calm simmer gloaming, 
 
 To muse on sweet Jessie, the flow'r o' Dumblane ; 
 
 Kow sweet is the brier wi'its saft faulding blossom, 
 
 And sweet is the bilk wi' its mantle o' green, 
 Yet sweeter an* fairer an' dear to my bosom, 
 Is lovely young Jessie, the flow'r o' Dumblane, 
 Is lovely young Jessie, is lovely young Jessie, 
 Is lovely young Jessie, the flow'r o' Dumblane. 
 
 She's modest as ony, an' blyth as she's bonny, 
 
 For guileless simplicity marks her its ain, 
 An : far be the villian divested o' feeling, 
 
 Wha'd blight in its bloom the sweet flow'r o' Dum- 
 blane ; 
 Sing on, thou sweet Mavis, thy hymn to the e'ening, 
 
 Thou'rt dear to the echoes o' Calderwood glen, 
 Sae dear to this bosom, sae artless and winning, 
 
 Iu charming young Jessie, the flow'r o' Dumblane* 
 Is charming young Jessie, 8cc. 
 
18ft MINSTREL. 
 
 How lost were my days, till I met wi' my Jessie. 
 
 The sports o' the city seem'd foolish and vain, 
 I ne'er saw a nymph I would ca' my dear lassie, 
 
 Till r charm'd wi' sweet Jessie, the fiow'r o' Dum- 
 blane ; 
 Tlio' mine were the station o' loftiest grandeur. 
 
 Amidst its profusion Fd languish in pain, 
 An' reckon as naething the height o' its splendour, 
 
 If wanting sweet Jessie, the flow'r o' Dumblane. 
 
 TcnnahiU. 
 
 THE POST CAPTAIN. 
 
 When Steerwell heard me first impart 
 
 Our brave commander's story, 
 With ardent zeal, his 3-outhful heart 
 
 Swell'd high for naval glory, 
 d to gain a valiant name, 
 
 For bold adventure eager, 
 When first a little cabin boy on board of the Fame, 
 
 He would hold on the jigger. 
 
 ten jelly tars, with the musical Joe, 
 Hove the anchor a-peak, singing, yeo, heave yec. 
 
 ad top-ga'nt sails next he learnt, 
 
 With quickness, care and spirit, 
 Whose generous master soon discern'd, 
 
 And priz'd his dawning merit : 
 He taught him soon to reef and steer, 
 
 When storms convuls'dthe ocean, 
 Where shcals made skilful vet'rans fear, 
 
 Which mark'd him for promotion* 
 
MINSTREL. 13T 
 
 For none to the pilot e'er answered like he, 
 When he gave the command, " Hard a-port, helm's fi- 
 le t." 
 
 For valour, skill and worth renown'd, 
 
 The foe he oft defeated, 
 And now with fame and fortune crown'd, 
 
 Post-captain he is rated ; 
 Who, should our injur'd country bleed, 
 
 Still .boldly he'd defend her—" 
 When blest with peace, if beauty plead, 
 
 He*U prove his heart as tender. 
 
 Unaw'd yet mild, to high and low, 
 To poor and wealthy, friend or foe — 
 
 Wounded tars share his wealth, 
 
 All the fleet drink his health— 
 Priz'd be such hearts, for aloft they must go, 
 Who always are ready compassion to show, 
 To a brave conquer'd foe. Dibdtn. 
 
 WIFE. CHILDREN, AND FRIENDS. 
 
 Air.— Ci Humours of Glen." 1 
 When the black letter'd list to the gods was presented* 
 
 The list of what fate for each mortal intends, 
 At the long string of ills a kind goddess relented, 
 And slipp'd in three blessings, wife, children and 
 friends. 
 
 InVrin surly Pluto declared he was cheated. 
 And justice divine could not compass her ends, 
 
18S MINSTREL. 
 
 The scheme of man's penance he swore ^vs as defeated. 
 For earth becomes heaven with wife, children, and 
 friends. 
 
 If the stock of our bliss is in stranger hands rested. 
 The fund, ill secured, oft in bankruptcy ends, 
 
 But the heart issues bills, which are never protested, 
 When drawn on the firm of— wife, children, and 
 
 friends. 
 
 The soldier, whose deeds live immortal in story, 
 When duty to far distant latitudes sends, 
 
 With transport would barter whole ages of glory 
 For one happy hour with wife, children, and friends. 
 
 Though valour still glows in his life's waning embers, 
 The death- wounded tar, who his colours defends, 
 
 Drops a tear of regret, as he dying remembers, 
 How blest was his Jiome with, wife, children, and 
 friends. 
 
 Tho' the spice-breathing gale o'er his caravan hovers, 
 Though around him Arabia's whole fragrance de- 
 scends, 
 The merchant still thinks of the woodbine that covers 
 The bower where he sat with wife, children, and 
 friends. 
 
 The day-spring of youth, still unclouded with sorrow, 
 Alone on itself for enjoyment depends, 
 
 But drear is the twilight of age if it borrow 
 No warmth from the smiles of wife, children, and 
 friends. 
 
MINSTREL. IS* 
 
 Lot the breath of renown eirerftesheh and nourish 
 The laurel that o'er her fair favourites bends, 
 
 O'er me wave the willow, and long may it flourish, 
 Bedew'd with the tears of wife, children, and friends. 
 
 Let us drink, for my son g growing graver and grayer. 
 
 To subjects too solemn insensibly tends ; 
 Let us drink, pledge me high, lore and virtue shall 
 flavour 
 The glass that we fill to wife, children, and friends. 
 
 Spenrrr. 
 
 LIBERTY TREE. 
 
 In a chariot of light fmm the regions of day, 
 
 The goddess of Liberty came ; 
 Ten thousand celestials directed the way, 
 
 And hither conducted the dame. 
 A fair budding branch from the gardens above, 
 
 Where millions with millions agree, 
 She brought in her hand as a pledge of her lore, 
 
 The plant she nanvd Liberty Tree. 
 
 The celestial exotic struck deep in the ground. 
 
 Like a native it flourish'd and bore ; 
 The fame of its fruit drew the nations around, 
 
 To seek out its peaceable shore. 
 I'nmindful of titles, or distinctions, they came, 
 
 For freemen like brothers agree ; 
 With one spirit endued, they one friendship pursued, 
 
 And their temple was Liberty Tree. 
 
190 MINSTREL. 
 
 Beneath thi3 fair tree, like the patriarchs of old. 
 
 Their bread in contentment they eat; 
 Unvex'd with the troubles of silver and gold, 
 
 The cares of the grand and the great ; 
 With timber and tar they old England supplied, 
 
 And supported her power on the sea ; 
 Her battles they fought without getting a groat. 
 
 For the honour of Liberty Tree. 
 
 But hear, O ye swains, ('tis a tale most profane) 
 
 How all the tyrannical powers, 
 Kings, Commons, and Lords, are uniting amain, 
 
 To cut down this guardian of ours : 
 From the east to the w T est blow the trumpet to arms. 
 
 Thro' the land let the sound of it flee ; 
 Let the far and the near all unite with a cheer, 
 
 In defence of our Liberty Tree. T. Pabns. 
 
 ALKNOMOOK. 
 
 The sun sets at night and the stars shun the day, 
 But glory remains when the light fades away -, 
 
 Begin ye tormentors, your threats are in vain, 
 For the son of Alknomook shall never complain. 
 
 Remember the arrows he shot from his bow, 
 Remember your chiefs by his hatchet laid low ; 
 
 Why so slow I do you wait till I shrink from my pain? 
 No— the son of Alknomook shall never complain. 
 
 Remember the wood, where in ambush we lay, 
 And the scalps which we bore from your nation away, 
 
MINSTREL. 191 
 
 Now Die dame rises fast, you exult in my pain ; 
 But the son of Alknomook shall never complain 
 
 I go to the land where my father is gone ; 
 
 His ghost shall rejoice in the fame of his son ; 
 Death comes like a friend, to relieve me from pain ; 
 
 And thy son, oh ! Alknomook, has scorn'd to com- 
 plain. Hunter. 
 
 MY ONLY JO AND DEARIE O. 
 Thy cheek is o' the rose's hue, 
 
 My only Jo and dearie O, 
 Thy neck is like the siller dew, 
 
 Upon the bank sae brierie O, 
 Thy teeth are o' the ivory, 
 
 O sweet's the twinkle o' thine ee' 
 Sae joy, nae pleasure, blinks on me, 
 
 My only Jo and dearie O. 
 
 The birdie sings upon the thorn, 
 
 Its sang o' joy, fu' cheerie O, 
 Rejoicing in the simmer morn, 
 
 Nae care to mak' it eerie O; 
 But little kens the sangster sweet, 
 
 Aught o' the care I hae to meet* 
 That gars my restless bosom beat, 
 
 My only Jo and dearie O. 
 
 When we were barnies on yon brae, 
 And youth was blinkin bonnie O, 
 
 Aft we wad daff the lelang day, 
 Our joy fu' sweet and.monie O, 
 
-TREL. 
 
 Aft I wad chase thee o'er the iea. 
 An' round about the thornie tree. 
 
 Or pu' the wild flow'rs a' for thee. 
 My only Jo and dearie O, 
 
 I hae a wish I eanna tine, 
 
 'Mang a' the cares that grieve me O, 
 A wish that thou Avert ever mine, 
 
 And never mair to leave me O ; 
 Then I wad daut thee night and day, 
 
 Nor ither war'ly care wad hae, 
 Till life's warm stream forgat to play, 
 
 My only Jo and dearie O. 
 
 OH ! WH Y SHOULD THE GIRL, &c. 
 
 Oh ! why should the girl of my soul be in tears. 
 
 At a meeting of rapture like this, 
 "When the gloom of the past and the sorrows of year* 
 
 Have been paid by the moment of bliss. 
 
 Are they shed for that moment of blissful delight, 
 
 Which dwells on her memory yet ; 
 Do they flow like the dews of the love breathing night. 
 
 From the warmth of the sun that has set. 
 
 Oh ! sweet is the tear on that languishing smile, 
 
 That smile which is loveliest then ; 
 And if such are the drops that delight can beguile, 
 
 Thou shalt weep them again and again. T Mvore 
 
MINSTREL. 193 
 
 MY SOLDIER LADDIE. 
 
 Sung by Mrs. Knight. 
 
 Leeze me on ray soldier love, 
 Bonnie laddie, soldier laddie, 
 
 Brave as lion, kind as dove, 
 Bonnie laddie, soldier laddie. 
 
 Should he fall in battle strife- 
 Bonnie laddie, soldier laddie, 
 
 None beside shall call me wife, 
 Bonnie laddie, soldier laddie, 
 
 But if glorious from the wars, 
 
 Bonnie laddie, soldier laddie, 
 Proud will I be of his scars, 
 
 Bonnie laddie, soldier laddie. 
 By the sparkle of his e'e,— 
 
 Bonnie laddie, soldier laddie, 
 None, I ken he loves but me, 
 
 Bonnie laddie, soldier laddie. 
 
 COMIN' THRO' THE RYE. 
 
 Sung by Mrs. Knight, 
 If a body meet a body 
 
 Comin 1 through the Rye, 
 If a body kiss a body, 
 
 Need a body cry ? 
 Ev'ry lassie has her laddie, 
 
 Nane they say have I, 
 But all the lads they smile at me 
 
 When comin' through the rye i 
 . I. N 
 
MINSTREL. 
 
 Amang the train there is a swain, 
 The lad I toe sae well, 
 
 But where's his hame. or what s his name, 
 I dinna choose to tell. 
 
 If a body meet a body 
 
 Comin' frae the town, 
 If a body kiss a body 
 
 Need a body frown ? 
 Ev'ry lassie has her laddie, 
 
 Nane they say have I, 
 But all the lads they smile at me 
 
 When comin' through the rye : 
 Amang the train, &c. 
 
 If a body meet a body 
 
 Comin 1 through the glen, 
 If a body kiss a body 
 
 Need the world a ken ? 
 Ilkajenny has her Jocky, 
 
 Nane they say have I, 
 But all the lads they smile on mc, 
 
 Then what the waur am I ? 
 Amang the train, &.c. 
 
 WILLIAM TELL. 
 Sung by Mr. Hey I. 
 When William Tell was doom'd to die, 
 
 Or hit the mark upon his infant's head— 
 The bell toll'd out, the hour was nigh, 
 And soldiers maich'd with grief and dread .' 
 
MINSTREL. 195 
 
 The warrior came, serene and mild, 
 
 Gfts'd all around with dauntless look, 
 Till his fond boy unconscious sniil'd ; 
 Then nature and the father spoke. 
 And now, each valiant Swiss his grief partakes, 
 For they sigh, 
 And wildly cry, 
 Poor William Tell ! once hero of the lakes. 
 
 But soon is heard the muffled drum, 
 
 And straight the pointed arrow flies, 
 The trembling boy expects his doom, 
 
 All, all shriek out— " he dies ! he dies P* 
 When lo ! the lofty trumpet sounds ! 
 
 The mark is hit ! the child is free .' 
 Into his father's arms he bounds, 
 
 Inspir'd by love and liberty ! 
 And now each valiant Swiss their joy partakes, 
 For mountains ring, 
 Whilst they sing, 
 Live William Tell I the hero of the lakes. 
 
 NEW SONG. 
 As sung by Mr. Heyl, 
 With martial step, the soldiers come, 
 To raise recruits, by beat of drum ; 
 Whilst o'er a mug of nut brown ale, 
 The sergeant tells the merry tale. 
 
► MINSTREL. 
 
 The country boobies gape and stare, 
 And fancy castles built in air : 
 Whilst every maid who hears the fife, 
 Aspires to be a soldiers wife. 
 
 Cries Giles, half muzzy, " Xed, I vow 
 I never more will drive the plough'''' — 
 * Come, here's to our country !' the sergeant cries 
 Then round the board the liquor flies ! 
 The silken purse of gold he shakes, 
 A certain bait for country cakes— 
 "Whilst every maid, &c. 
 
 Having of drink and sleep their fill, 
 The new recruits turn out to drill, 
 The cockade monstrous fine appears, 
 But then, the sword awakes their fears. 
 At length the drum each bumpkin moves, 
 The hamlet quite deserted proves. 
 Since every maid, &c. 
 
 THE TRUE HEARTED FELLOW. 
 With my pipe in one hand and my jug in the other, * 
 
 I'll drink to my neighbour and friend : 
 All my cares in a whitf of tobacco I'll smother, 
 
 Since my life I know shortly must end. 
 While Ceres most kindly refills my brown jug, 
 
 With good ale I will make myself mellow ; 
 In my old w icker chair, I will seat myself snug, 
 
 Like a jolly and true hearted fellow. 
 
 T 
 
MINSTREL. 197 
 
 11 ne'er trouble my head with affairs of the nation, 
 
 I've enough of my own for to mind ; 
 
 II we see in this Kit: is but care and vexation, 
 
 For to death we must all be consign'd ; 
 
 Ian well laugh, drink and sing, and leave nothing 
 
 to pay, 
 The n dioj), like a pear ripe and mellow ; 
 nd when cold in my coffin, I'll leave them to say, 
 He is gone— H hat a hearty good fellow. 
 
 TALLY HO. 
 e sportsmen draw near, and ye sportswomen too, 
 "Who delight in the joys of the field ; 
 [ankind, tho* they blame, are all eager as you, 
 And no one the contest will yield ; 
 is lordship, his worship, his honor, his grace, 
 A hunting continually go ; 
 11 ranks and degrees are engag'd in the chace, 
 With, hark forward, huzza ! tally ho. 
 
 he lawyer w ill rise wiA the first in mora, 
 
 To hunt for a mortgage or deed ; 
 
 he husband gets up at the sound of the horn, 
 
 And rides to the common full speed ; 
 
 he patriot is thrown in pursuit of his game ; 
 
 The poet too often lies low, 
 
 'ho, mounted on pegasus, flies after fame, 
 
 With, hark forward, huzza ! tally ho. 
 
 hile fearless o'er hills niul o'er woodlands we speed, 
 'ho' prudes on our pastime may frown, 
 
198 MINSTREL. 
 
 How oft do they decency's bounds overleap, 
 And the fences of virtue break down ! 
 
 Thus public, or private, for pension, for place, 
 For amusement, for passion, for show, 
 
 All ranks and degrees are engag'd in the chace, 
 With, hark forward, huzza I tally ho. 
 
 OLD COMMODORE. 
 
 Odds blood ! what a time for a seaman to skulk 
 
 Under gingerbread hatches ashore; 
 "What a curs'd bad job, that this batter'd old hulk, 
 Can't be rigg'd out for sea once more ; 
 For the puppies as they pass, 
 Cocking up a squinting g'.ass, 
 Thus run down the old commodore : 
 That's the old commodore, 
 The rum old commodore, 
 The gouty old commodore, he ! 
 Why the bullets and the gout. 
 Have so knock'dhis hull about. 
 That he'll never more be fit for sea. 
 
 Here am I in distress, like a ship water-logg'd, 
 
 Not a tow-rope at hand, nor an oar; 
 I am left by my crew, and may I be fiogg'd, 
 But the Doctor's a lubberly hove ! 
 While I'm swallowing his slops, 
 How nimble are his chops. 
 Thus queering the old commodotv ; 
 
MINSTREL. 1^9 
 
 Had cnsr, commodore. 
 
 Can't say, commodore) 
 Mus'n't latter, commodore, says he, 
 
 For the bullets and the gout, 
 
 Maw so knock'd your hull about, 
 That you'll never more be fit for sea. , 
 
 What ! no more be afloat ; blood and fury— they lie ! 
 
 I'm a seaman and only three-score ; 
 And if, as they tell me, I'm likely to die, 
 Gad/.ooks, let me not die ashore. 
 death 'tis all a joke, 
 Sailors live in fire and smoke, 
 So at least says the old commodore, 
 The rum old commodore, 
 The totigh old commodore, 
 The fighting old commodore — he ! 
 "Whom the devil nor the gout, 
 Nor the doctor's dreg's to boot, 
 Shall kill, till they grapple him at sea* 
 
 FLOWERS OF THE FOREST. 
 The flowers of the forest in spring-time were gay, 
 \nd love heighten'd every soft pleasure of May ; 
 My Mary stray'd with me wherever I went, 
 \nd my heart was the mansion of peace and content. 
 But alas ! she has left me for pastimes more gay, 
 And the flowers of the forest ail wither away. 
 
 The flowers of the forest in spring-time were gay, 
 \»d the smile of my Mary gave wings to the day ; 
 
300 MINSTREL. 
 
 But past are thow pleasures, no more to return, 
 Her charms I adore and her falsehood I mourn ; 
 For alas ! she has left me, &c 
 
 The flowers of the forest in spring-time were gay, 
 Like their fragrance, my bliss and fond hopes pass'd a- 
 
 way : 
 Fine hopes which I caught from the glance of her eye, 
 Now blighted by sorrow, fade, wither, and die ; 
 
 For alas ! she has left me, &c. 
 
 OH! WHAT A ROW. 
 OH ! what a row ! what a rumpus and a rioting, 
 All those endure, you may be sure, that go to sea. 
 A ship is a thing that you never can be quiet in 
 By wind or steam it's all the same, 'twas so with me. 
 Wife and daughter, on the water said they'd like to 
 
 sail a bit, 
 I consented, soon repented, then began to rail a bit ; 
 " Pa J now pray ! go to day, the weathers so inviting. 
 
 lauk, 
 I'm sure 'twill do such good to you, they'll feed you 
 
 like a fighting cock. 
 
 Oh I what a row, &c. 
 
 In a boat, I got afloat, as clumsy as an elephant, 
 So spruce and gay to spend the day, and make a splash; 
 Gad! its true, I did it too, for stepping in, I fell off oirt, 
 And overboard, upon my word, I went slap dash. 
 Wife squalling, daughter bawling, every thing provok- 
 ing me. 
 
MINSTREL. 201 
 
 Called u a hog, a poodle dog," all the sailors joking me, 
 Dripping wet, and in a fret, with many more distress- 
 
 ables, 
 A fellow took the long boat-hook, and caught my in- 
 expressibles. 
 
 Oh ! what a row, &c. 
 
 Such a gig, without a wig, on deck I was exhibited, 
 
 Laugh'd at by the passengers, and quizz'd by the crew; 
 
 Raved and swore, that on the shore I rather had been 
 gibbetted — 
 
 Than thus, half drown'd, by all around, be roasted too. 
 
 Danger past, and dry at last, indulging curiosity, 
 
 I stared to see, the vessel flee, with such a Strang ve- 
 locity ; 
 
 " Pray," said I, to one just by, " What power can im- 
 pel us so?" 
 
 \ u The smoky devil goes by steam, at least the lubbers 
 tell us so." 
 
 Oh! what a row, 8cc. 
 
 Not a sail, to catch a gale, yet magically on I went, 
 Gainst wind and tide, and all beside, in wonder quite ; 
 Cast my eye up to the sky, and tall as Trinity's monu- 
 ment 
 
 I saw the kitchen chimney smoke, as black as night. 
 People toiling, roasting, boiling, bless us such a rookery, 
 They'd soup and fish, and fowl and flesh, and Niblo's 
 
 tavern cookery ; 
 Then the noise of men and boys ! a din to rival hell's 
 
 hubbub, 
 
202 MINSTREL. 
 
 I thought the crew were devil's all, the master captain 
 Beelzebub. 
 
 Oh ! what a row, &c. 
 
 Wife to me, says— says she, " now's your time to pick a 
 bit, 
 
 The dinner's serving up below— and we must fly." 
 
 Says I, " my dear, Tin very queer, I* m going to be sick 
 a bit, 
 
 " I'm seized with an all-over-ness, I faint, I die ! 
 
 " I cannot eat, 1 loath my meat, I feel my stomach fail- 
 ing me, 
 
 "Steward hasten, bring a bason, what the deuce is ail- 
 ing me, 
 
 " If its handy ,get some brandy,'' the malady to quench 
 unable, 
 
 Down I lay, for half a day— in pickle quite unmention- 
 able. 
 
 Oh ! what a row, Sec. 
 
 As to dinner, I'm a sinner if I touch'd a bit of it, 
 But anchor cast, and home at last, I'm safe once more, 
 In the packet, such a racket, crowding to <ret quit of it, 
 Like cattle from a coaster, we were haul'd on shore. 
 With " how d'ye do," and how are you — I see you're 
 
 better physically ; 
 u Zounds, be still, I'm very ill, your're always talking 
 
 quizically ; 
 " Some with glee, may go to sea, but I shall not be wil- 
 ling, sir, 
 'For such a day again to pay, just two pounds fifteen 
 shillings, sir." 
 
 Oh ! what a row, ike, 
 
MINSTREL. 203 
 
 THE PRIDE OF THE VALLEY. 
 The pride of the valley U lovely young Ellen, 
 
 "Who dwells in a cottage enshrined by a thicket, 
 Sweet peace and content are the wealth of her dwell- 
 ing 
 
 And truth is the porter that waits at the wicket. 
 The zephyr that lingers on violet down pinion, 
 
 With springs blushing honorsHlelighted to dally, 
 Ne'er breathed on a blossom in Flora's dominion, 
 
 So lovely as Ellen, the pride of the valley. 
 
 She's true to her Willie, and kind to her mother, 
 
 Nor riches, nor honors, can tempt her from duty, 
 Content with her station, she sighs for no other, 
 
 Though fortunes and titles have knelt to her beauty. 
 To one her affections and promise are blighted, 
 
 Our ages are square, our tempers will tally, 
 O moment of rapture that sees one united 
 
 To lovely young Ellen, the pride of the valley. 
 
 Woodworth. 
 
 THE FARMER'S INGLE. 
 Let Turks triumph, let tyrants reign, 
 
 Let poets sing in lofty strain ; 
 Let Turk? take wives ; let priests live single, 
 
 But my delight is the farmer's ingle. 
 
 The farmer's ingle is the place 
 
 Where beauty shines in ev'ry face ; 
 My wishes were and are to mingle. 
 
 With honest hearts at the farmer's ingle, 
 
I MINSTREL. 
 
 Success to trade is the merchant's toast, 
 While Liberty is our country's boast : 
 
 The miser doth his money jingle, 
 Yet my delight is the farmers ingle. 
 
 In winter, when the frost and snow 
 Drives the poor farmer to his home, 
 
 Your heart wou'd ache, your ears wou'd tinkle, 
 To hear the tales of the farmer's ingle. 
 
 The sailor boldly ploughs the main, 
 The soldier talks of heaps of slain, 
 
 But as for us we'll ne'er live single — 
 
 Then a bumper fill to the farmer's ingle. 
 
 THE FLOWER GIRL. 
 
 Forbid it, kind Heaven, that my parents should sigh, 
 
 While I can sell flowers in the street ; 
 My poor little sister too surely would die, 
 Did I cease to procure them some meat. 
 Then buy my sweet flowers, and shield us from 
 
 Borrow, 
 What I earn to-day we must live on to-morrow. 
 
 Ah ! had not my father been killed in the war, 
 
 And ltft us both friendless and poor, 
 I should not thus wander with flowers so far, 
 And cry them at every door. 
 
 Then buy my sweet flowers, Sec. 
 
MINSTREL. 
 
 My mother, alas ! since my father is dead, 
 
 la almost deprived of her sight, 
 And I, for my sister and her to get bread, 
 Cull flowers as soon as 'tis light. 
 Then buy my sweet flowers, &c. 
 
 DRINK TO ME ONLY WITH THINE EYES. 
 Drink to me only with thine eyes, 
 
 And I will pledge with mine ; 
 Or leave a kiss but in the cup, 
 
 And I'll not look for wine. 
 The thirst that from ray soul doth rise, 
 
 Doth ask a drink divine, 
 But might I of Jove's nectar sip, 
 
 I would not change for thine. 
 
 I sent thee late a rosy wreath, 
 
 Not so much honouring thee, 
 As giving it a hope, that, there, 
 
 It would not withered be. 
 But thou thereon didst only breathe, 
 
 And sent it back to me : 
 Since then, it grows, and looks and smells, 
 
 Not for itself, but thee. 
 
 MARY. 
 Mary I belie v'd thee true, 
 
 And I was blest in thus believing; 
 But now I mourn that e're I knew 
 
 A gir\ so fair and so deceiving. 
 
i MINSTREL. 
 
 How few have ever lov'd like me, 
 Oh ! I have lov'd thee too sincerely ! 
 
 And few have e'er deceiv'd like thee, 
 Alas I deceiv'd me too severely I 
 
 Fare thee well, yet think a while 
 
 On one whose bosom bleeds to doubt thee, 
 "Who now would rather trust that smile, 
 
 And die with thee, than live without thee I 
 
 Fare thee well, I'll think of thee, 
 Thou leav'st me many a bitter token ; 
 
 For see, distracting woman ! see, 
 My peace is gone, my heart is broken ! 
 Fare thee well ! 
 
 I'D MOURN THE HOPES THAT LEAVE ME. 
 
 I'd mourn the hopes that leave me, 
 
 If thy smiles had left me too : 
 I'd weep when friends deceive me, 
 
 Hadst thou been like them untrue. 
 But while I've thee before me, 
 
 "With heart so warm, and eyes so bright, 
 No clouds can linger o'er me, 
 
 That smile turns them all to light. 
 
 Tis not in fate to harm me, 
 
 While fate leaves thy love to me \ 
 'Tis not in joy to charm me, 
 
 Unless joy be shar'd with thee. I 
 
MINSTREL. 207 
 
 One minute's dream about thee, 
 Were worth a long and endless year, 
 
 Of waking bliss \\ itbout thee. 
 My own love, my only dear ! 
 
 And though the hope be gone, love, 
 
 That long sparkled o'er our way, 
 Ob ! we shall journey on, love, 
 
 .More lately without its ray. 
 Far better lights shall win me, 
 
 Along the path I've yet to roam ; 
 The mind that burns within me, 
 
 And pure smiles from thee at home. 
 
 Thus, when the lamp that lighted 
 
 The traveller, at first goes out, 
 He feels awhile benighted, 
 
 And looks around in fear and doubt. 
 But soon, the prospect clearing, 
 
 By cloudless star-light on he treads, 
 And thinks no lamp so cheering 
 
 As that light which Heaven sheds I T.Moorc. 
 
 ODE TO FREEDOM. 
 
 When Freedom midst the battle storm 
 
 Her weary head reclined ; 
 And round her fair majestic form, 
 
 Oppression fain had twined ; 
 
08 MINSTREL. 
 
 Amidst the din— beneath the cloud, 
 
 Great Washington appeared ; 
 With daring hand rolled back the shroud, 
 
 And thus the sufferer cheered I 
 
 Spurn, spurn despair I be great, be free ! 
 With giant strength arise ! 
 
 Stretch, stretch thy pinions, Liberty, 
 Thy flag plant in the skies ! 
 
 Clothe, clothe thyself in glory's robe, 
 Let stars thy banner gem ; 
 
 Rule, rule the sea— possess the globe- 
 Wear Victory's diadem. 
 
 Go tell the world, a world is born, 
 
 Another orb gives light ; 
 Another sun illumes the morn, 
 
 Another star the night ; 
 Be just, be brave !— and let thy name 
 
 Henceforth Columbia be ; 
 Wear, wear the oaken wreath of Fame, 
 
 The wreath of Liberty ! 
 
 He said— and lo, the stars of night 
 
 Forth to her banner flew ; 
 And mom with pencil dipt in light, 
 
 The blushes on it drew ; 
 Columbia's chieftain seized the prize, 
 
 All gloriously unfurled : 
 Soared with it to his native skies, 
 
 And waved it o'er the world. Coffin* 
 
MINSTREL. 
 
 KATE OF ABERDEEN. 
 
 The silver moon's enamour'd beam 
 
 Steals softly through the night, 
 To wanton with the \\ inding stream, 
 
 And kiss reflected light. 
 To beds of state go, balmy sleep ! 
 
 'Tis where you've seldom been ; 
 May\ vigil while the shepherds keep 
 
 "With Kate of Aberdeen. 
 
 Upon the green the virgins wait, 
 
 In rosj ehaplets gay, 
 Till morn unbars her golden gate, 
 
 And gives the promised May. 
 Methinks I hear the maids declare, 
 
 The promised May, when seen, 
 Not half so fragrant, half SO fair, 
 
 As Kate of Aberdeen. 
 
 Strike up the tabor's boldest notes, 
 
 We'll rouse the nodding grove ; 
 The nested birds shall raise their throats, 
 
 And hail the maid I love ; 
 And see — the matin lark mistakes, 
 
 He quits the tufted green : 
 Fond bird ! 'tis not the morning breaks, 
 
 'Tis Kate of Aberdeen. 
 
 Now lightsome o'er the level mead, 
 "Where midnight fairies rove, 
 
 Vol. I. O 
 
SlO 3TREL. 
 
 Like them the jocund dance we'll lead, 
 
 Or tune the reed to love ; 
 For see the rosy May draws nigh : 
 
 She claims a virgin queen : 
 And hark ! the happy shepherds cry, 
 
 ? Tis Kate of Aberdeen. 
 
 HAD I A HEART FOR FALSEHOOD. 
 
 Had I a heart for falsehood framed, 
 
 I ne'er could injure you ; 
 For, though your tongue no promise claim'd, 
 
 Your charms would make me true. 
 To yoti no soul shall bear deceit, 
 
 Xo stranger offer wrong ; 
 But friends in all the aged you'll meet, 
 
 And lovers in the young. 
 
 Bnt, when they learn that you have bless'd 
 
 Another with your heart, 
 They'll bid aspiring passions rest, 
 
 And act a brother's part. 
 Then, lady, dread not here deceit, 
 
 Xor fear to suffer wroncr ; 
 For friends in all the aged you'll meet, 
 
 And lovers in the young. Sheridan* 
 
 THE BREWER'S COACHMAN. 
 Honest William, an easy and good natured fellow, 
 Would a little I 
 
MINSTR] 811 
 
 Body coachman was he to an eminenl brew ei , 
 
 No better cVr sat on a coach box«to be sure. 
 
 His coach was kept clean and no mothers or nurse* 
 
 Took more care of their bales than he took of his 
 
 horses : 
 He had these, ay, and fifty good qualities more, 
 But the business of tippling could ne'er be got o'er. 
 
 So his master effectually mended the matter, 
 By hiring a man who drank nothing but water ; 
 Now, William, says he, you see the plain case, 
 Had you drank as he dees you'd have kept a good 
 
 place. 
 Drink water J cried William : had all men done so, 
 You'd never have wanted a coachman I trow. 
 They're soakers like me, whom you load with re- 
 proaches, 
 That enable you brewers to ride in your coaches. 
 
 FROM NIGHT 'TILL MORN. 
 From night 'till morn I take my glass, 
 ■ In hopes to forget my Cbloe ; 
 But, as I take the pleasing draught, 
 She's ne'ertheless before me. 
 Ah ! no, no, no, wine cannot cure 
 The pain I endure for my Chloe. 
 
 To wine I flew to ease the pain 
 Her beauteous charms created : 
 
 But wine more firmly bound the chain, 
 ■\nd love would not be cheated. 
 \h ? no, no. no, -. 
 
> MINSTREL. 
 
 OH ! THOU WERT BORN. 
 Oh ! thou wert born to please me, 
 
 My life, my only love ; 
 Through all the world I'll praise thee, 
 
 My shepherd of the grove. 
 
 Thus happy, never jealous, 
 
 Dear idol of my heart, 
 Can any harm assail us, 
 
 My life, my only love ! 
 
 Feel how my heart is beating", 
 
 My rural queen of love! 
 My pulse of life retreating, 
 
 Our bliss shall constant prove. 
 
 Thus love sweet poison, drinking, 
 
 Dear idol of my heart, 
 While on thy bosom sinking, 
 
 My life, my only love. 
 
 LOVE'S A TYRANT. 
 
 That love's a tyrant I can prove, 
 For I alas ! am now its slave ; 
 Yet glad would I those chains remove, 
 And fearless all his mandates brave. 
 For the urchin will vex me, 
 Torment and perplex me, 
 And, ah ! 'tis useless to complain. 
 Though love is teasing, 
 Tis also pleasing, 
 And pleasure yields as well as pain. 
 
MIKS1 REL. 
 
 Amelia daily grows more fair, 
 Yet still she doe* not kinder prove ; 
 
 I sigh and pine, and, in despair, 
 Resolve to think no more of love. 
 For the urchin, &e. 
 
 VARIETY. 
 Ask me who is singing here, 
 
 Who so blight can thus appear ? 
 1 am the child of joy and glee, 
 And my names Variety. 
 Ne'er have I a clouded face, 
 Swift I change from place to place, 
 Ever wandering ever free, 
 Such am I Variety. 
 
 Like the bird that skims the air, 
 Here and there and every where, 
 Sip my pleasure like the bee, 
 Notldng's like Variety* 
 Love, sweet passion warms my breast, 
 Roving love but breaks the rest ! 
 One good heart's enough for me, 
 Though my name's Variety. 
 
 Clouded scenes and lonely groves, 
 Each by turn I do approve— 
 Follow, follow, follow me, 
 Friends of life, Variety, 
 
 Follow, follow, follow me, 
 
 Friends of life, Variety. 
 
THE SAILOR'S JOURNAL. 
 'Tvvas past meridian half past four, 
 
 By signal I from Nancy parted, 
 At six she linger'd on the shove, 
 
 With uplift hands and broken-hearted ; 
 At seven, while taught'ning the fore-stay, 
 
 I saw her faint, or else 'twas fancy ; 
 At eight we all got under way, 
 
 And bid a long adieu to Nancy. 
 
 Night came, and now eight bells had rung ; 
 
 When careless sailors ever cheery, 
 On the mid-watch so jovial sung, 
 
 With tempers labour cannot weary ; 
 I little to their mirth in clin'd, 
 
 While tender thoughts rush'd on my fancy, 
 And my warm sighs increas'd the wind, 
 
 Look'd on the moon and thought of Nancy. 
 
 And now arriv'd that jovial night, 
 
 When ev'ry true bred tar carouses, 
 When o'er the grog all hands delight 
 
 To toast their sweet-hearts and their spouses. 
 Round went the cann, the jest, the glee, 
 
 While tender wishes fill'd each fancy, 
 And when in turn it came to me, 
 
 I heav'd a sigh and toasted Nancy. 
 
 Next morn a storm came on at four, 
 
 At six the elements in motion, 
 Plung'd me and three poor sailors more, 
 
 Headlong into the foaming ocean ; 
 
MINSTREL. 
 
 >n found their graven, 
 To me, it may be only fancy, 
 
 I5ut Iu\ e seem'd to forbid the waves, 
 To snatch me from the arms of Nancy. 
 
 Scarce the foul hurricane was clear'd, 
 
 And winds and wave had ceas'd to rattle, 
 When a bold enemy appeared, 
 
 And, dauntless we prepaid for battle ; 
 And now while some lov'd friend or wife, 
 
 Lik a lightening rush'd on ev'ry fancy, 
 To Providence I trusted life, 
 
 Put up a prayer and thought on Nancy. 
 
 At last, 'twas in the month of May, 
 
 The crew, it being lovely weather, 
 At three A. M. discovered day, 
 
 And England's chalky cliffs together, 
 At seven up channel, now we bore, 
 
 While hopes and fears rush'd on my fancy, 
 At twelve I gaily jump'd onshore, 
 
 And to my throbbing heart prcss'd Nancy. 
 
 I WONT BE A NUN. 
 Now is it not a pity such a pretty girl as I, 
 Should be sent to a nunnery to pine away and die ; 
 13 ut I won't be a nun— no, I won't be a nun — 
 I'm so fond of pleasure that I cannot be a nun. 
 
 I'm sure I cannot tell what's the mischief I have done, 
 But my mother often tells me that I must be a nun. 
 But I wont be a nun, &c. 
 
216 MINSTREL. 
 
 I could not bear confinement, it would not do for me, 
 For I like to go a shopping, and to see what I can see. 
 So I won't be a nun, Sec. 
 
 I love to hear men flattering— love fashionable clothes, 
 I love music and dancing, and chatting with the beaus. 
 So I can't be a nun, &c . 
 
 So mother don't be angry now,but let your daughter be, 
 
 For the nuns would not like to have a novice wild as me. 
 
 And I can't be a nun— no, I won't be a nun, 
 
 I'm so fond of pleasure that I cannot be a nun. 
 
 THE TOAST. 
 
 Here's to the maiden of bashful fifteen, 
 
 Here's to the widow of fifty ; 
 Here's to the bold and extravagant queen, 
 And here's to the housewife that's thrifty. 
 Let the toast pass, 
 Drink to the lass, 
 I warrant she'll prove an excuse for the glass. 
 
 Here's to the maiden whose dimples we prize, 
 
 Likewise to her that has none, sir ; m 
 Here's to the maid with a pair of black eyes, 
 
 And to her that has only but one, sir. 
 Let the toast pass. &c. 
 Here's to the maid with a bosom of snow, 
 
 And to her that's as brown as a berry ; 
 Here's to the wife with a face full of wo, 
 
 And here's to the girl that is merry. 
 Let the toast pass, &c. 
 
MINSTREL. 
 
 Let her be clumsy, or let her be thin, 
 Young or ancient, I care not a feather ; 
 
 So fill a pint bumper quite up to the brim, 
 And e*en let us toast them together. 
 Let the toast pass, See. 
 
 THE WAY-WORN TRAVELLER. 
 Faint and wearily the way-worn traveller, 
 
 Plods, uneheerily, afraid to stop ; 
 Wand'ring drearily, and sad unraveller, 
 
 Of the maze towards the mountain's top. 
 Doubting, fearing, while his course he's steering, 
 
 Cottages appearing as he's nigh to drop— 
 Oh ! how briskly then the way-worn traveller 
 
 Treads the maze towards the mountain's top. 
 
 Though so melancholy day has pass'd by, 
 
 'Twould be folly to think on't more, 
 Blithe and jolly he the can holds fast by, 
 
 As he's sitting at the goatherd's door ; 
 Eating, quaffing, at past labour laughing, 
 
 Better far by half in spirits than before — 
 Oh ! how merrily the rested traveller 
 
 Sings while sitting at the goatherd's door. 
 
 THOUGH THE LAST GLIMPSE OF ERIN. 
 Though the last glimpse of Erin with sorrow I see, 
 Yet wherever thou art, shall seem Erin to me : 
 
MINSTREL. 
 
 In exile, thy bosom shall still be my home, 
 
 And thine eyes be my climate wherever we roam. 
 
 To the gloom cf some desert, or cold rocky shore, 
 Where the eye of the stranger can haunt us no more, 
 I will fly with my Coulin, and think the rough wind 
 Less rude than the foes we leave frowning behind. 
 
 And I'll gaze on thy gold hair as graceful it wreathes, 
 And hang o'er thy soft harp as wildly it breathes ; 
 Nor dread that the cold-hearted Saxon will tear 
 One cord from that harp, or one lock from that hair. 
 
 T. Moore . 
 
 THE BRAES O' BALLOCHMYLE. 
 The Catrine woods were yellow seen, 
 
 The flowers decay'd on Catrine lee, 
 Nae lav'rock sang on hillock green, 
 
 But nature sicken'd on the e'e. 
 Thro* faded groves Maria sang, 
 
 Hersel in beauty's bloom the while, 
 And ay the wild-wood echoes rang, 
 
 Fareweel the braes o* Ballochmyle ! 
 
 Low in your wintry beds ye flowers, 
 
 Again ye'll flourish fresh and fair ; 
 Ye birdies dumb, in withering bowers, 
 
 Again ye'll charm the vocal air. 
 But here, alas I for me nae mair, 
 
 Shall birdie charm, or flow'ret smile ; 
 Fareweel the bonny banks of Ayr, 
 
 Fareweel, fareweel ! sweet Ballochmyle! 
 
 Burns. 
 
 
[NSTREL. Wfl 
 
 SINCE THEN I'M DOOM'D. 
 Since then I'm doom' d this sad reverse to prove, 
 
 To quit each object of my infant care ; 
 Torn from an honour'd parent's tender love, 
 
 And driven the keenest storms of fate to bear : 
 Ah ! but forgive me, pitied let me part, 
 Your frowns too sure, would break my sinking heart. 
 
 Where'er I go, whate'er my lowly state, 
 
 " ful mem'ry still shall linger here ! 
 u, ]>erhaps, you're musing o'er my fate, 
 You st ill may greet me w ith a tender care. 
 Ah ! then forgive me, pitied let me part, 
 Your frowns too sure, would break my sinking heart. 
 
 THE DAY RETURNS. 
 
 The day returns, my bosom bums, 
 
 The blissful day we twa did meet ; 
 Tho' winter wild in tempest toil'd, 
 
 Ne'er simmer sun was hauf sae sweet. 
 Than a' the pride that loads the tide, 
 
 And crosses o'er the sultry line, 
 Than kingly robes, than crowns and globes ; 
 
 Heav'n gave me more, it made thee mine. 
 
 While day and night can bring delight, 
 
 Or nature aught of pleasure give ; 
 While joys above my mind can move, 
 Fot thee and thee alone I : 
 
' MINSTREL. 
 
 When that grim foe of life below. 
 
 Comes in between to make us part, 
 The iron hand that breaks our band, 
 
 It breaks my bliss— it breaks my heart ! 
 
 SALLY ROY. 
 
 Fair Sally, once the village pride, 
 
 Lies cold and wan in yonder valley ; 
 She lost her lover, and she died— 
 
 Grief broke the heart of gentle Sally, 
 Young Valiant was the hero's name, 
 
 For early valour fir'd the boy, 
 Who barter'd all his love for fame. 
 
 And kill : d the hope of Sally Roy, 
 
 Swift from the arms of weeping love, 
 
 As rag'd the war, in yonder valley, 
 He rush'd his martial power to prove, 
 
 While, faint with fear, sunk lovely Sally ? 
 At noon she saw the youth depart ; 
 
 At eve she lost her darling joy— 
 Ere night the last throb of her heart, 
 
 Declar'd the fate of Sally Roy. 
 
 The virgin train, in tears are seen, 
 
 While yellow moon-light f^.ls the valley, 
 Slow stealing o'er the dewy green, 
 
 Towards the grave of gentle Sally. 
 And while remembrance wakes the sigh, 
 
 Which weans each feeling heart from joy ; 
 The mournful dirge, ascending high, 
 
 Bewails tht fate of Sally Roy .' Ronnie. 
 
MINSTRE1 . 
 
 THE GARDEN GATE. 
 
 The day was spent, the moon shone bright, 
 
 The village clock struck eight, 
 When Mary hastened with delight, 
 Unto the garden gate. 
 Rut none was there, which made her sad, 
 The gate was there but not the lad, 
 Which made poor Mary say and sigh, 
 Was any poor girl so sad as I. 
 
 Rut none was there, &c. 
 
 She paced the garden o'er and o'er, 
 
 The village clock struck nine, 
 Which made poor Mary sigh and say, 
 You shan't, you shan't, be mine, 
 You piomis'd to meet me here at eight, 
 You shan't deceive or make me wait, 
 tor I'll let all such creatures see, 
 You ne'er shall make a fool of me, 
 For you promised, 8cc. 
 
 She paced the garden o'er and o'er, 
 
 The village clock struck ten, 
 When William caught her in his arms, 
 Never to part again, 
 For he'd been to buy the ring that day, 
 Oh ! he had been such along long way. 
 O ! how could Mary so cruel prove, 
 To banish the lad she so dearly loved. 
 For he had been to buy, &c. 
 
222 MINSTR] 
 
 Now when the morning bells did ring, 
 To church they went straightway, 
 
 And all the villagers did sing, 
 Upon that happy day. 
 Now in a cot by the rivpr side, 
 Young William and Mary do reside. 
 And she blesses the hour that she did wait, 
 For her true love at the garden gate. 
 
 SIC A WIFE AS WILLIE HAD. 
 Willie Wastle dwelt on Tweed, 
 
 The spot they call'd it Linkumdoddie, 
 Willie was a wabstergude, 
 
 Cou'd stone a clue wi' ony bodie ; 
 He had a wife was dour and din, 
 O tinkler Madgie was her mither ; 
 Sic a wife as Willie had, 
 1 wad na gie a button for her. 
 
 She has an e'e, she has but ane, 
 The cat has twa the very colour ; 
 
 Five rusty teeth forbye a stump, 
 A clapper tongue wad deave a miller ; 
 
 A whiskin' beard about her mou', 
 Her nose and chin they threaten ither ; 
 Sic a wife, Bee. 
 
 She's bow-hough'd, she's hein shinn'd, 
 Ae limpin' leg a hand breed shorter ; 
 
 She's twisted right, she's twisted left, 
 To balance fair in ilka quarter : 
 
, REL, 
 
 She lias a hump upon her breast, 
 Tin i win o' that upon her Bhouther : 
 Sic a wife, iVc. 
 Aiild baudrans by the ingie sits, 
 
 An \\ i' her loof her face a washing ; 
 But Willie's wife is nae sae trig, 
 
 She (lights her grunzie wr a hushion ; 
 Her walk nieves like midden-creels, 
 Her face wad fyle the Logan-water ; 
 Sic a wife as Willie had, 
 I wad na gie a button for her. 
 
 Burn?. 
 
 MASONIC SONG. 
 
 All hail to the morning 
 
 That bids us rejoice ; 
 
 The temple's completed, 
 
 Exalt high each voice ; 
 
 The cap-stone is fmish'd, 
 
 Our labour is o'er ; 
 The sound of the gravel 
 Shall hail us no more, 
 o the power Almighty, who ever has guided 
 The tribes of old Israel, exalting their fame. 
 o him who hath govenvd our hearts undivided, 
 Let's send forth our voices, to praise his great name. 
 Companions, assemble 
 
 On this joyful day, 
 (Th* occasion is glorious) 
 The key-stone to lay ; 
 
 IFulftlPd h the prep 
 
224 MINSTREL, 
 
 To bring forth the cap-stone, 
 
 "With shouting and praise. 
 
 There's no more occasion for level or plumb line, 
 
 For trowel or gravel, for compass or square ; 
 Our works are completed, the Ark safely seated, 
 And ye shall be greeted as workman most rare. 
 
 Xow those that are worthy, 
 Our toils who have shard. 
 
 And prov'd themselves faithful, 
 Shall meet their reward. 
 
 Their virtue and knowledge, 
 Industry and skill, 
 
 Have your approbation, 
 Have gain'd your good will. 
 We accept and receive the Most Excellent Masters, 
 
 Invested with honours, and power to preside ; 
 Among worthy craftsmen, wherever assembled, 
 The knowledge of masons to spread far and wide. 
 
 Almighty Jehovah, 
 
 Descend now, and fill 
 This lodge with thy glory, 
 
 Our hearts with good will ! 
 Preside at our meetings, 
 
 Assist xis to find 
 True pleasure in teaching 
 Good will to mankind. 
 Thy wisdom inspired the great institution, 
 
 Thy strength shall support it, till nature expire ; 
 And when the creation shall fall into ruin, 
 Its beauty shall rase through the midst of the fire ! 
 
 Webb. 
 
MINSTREL. 225 
 
 BUY A BROOM. 
 
 Sung by Mrs. Knight. 
 Pretty Lady, Pretty Gentleman, 
 From mine Vaterland I do brine; 
 De littel broom so new, so bran, 
 And buy a broom ? I sing. 
 
 Buy a broom. 
 
 Pretty littel broom is of much use, 
 When your lover go astray, 
 Should de fond one evar you abuse, 
 You den whip him away, 
 
 Wid de broom. 
 
 I once had a sworn true lover, 
 But he soon false prove to me, 
 So I cross'd dat big see over, 
 Hoping truer friends to see, 
 
 Den buy my broom ? 
 
 Knight. 
 
 LOVE WAS ONCE A LITTLE BOY. 
 Sung by Mrs. Knight, 
 '.ove was once a little boy, Heigh-ho, Heigh-ho ; 
 Then with him 'twasjsweet to toy, Heigh-ho, Heigh-ho; 
 I le was then so innocent, 
 Not as now on mischief bent, 
 Free he came and harmless went, 
 
 Heigh-ho, Heigh-ho. 
 
 ol. 1 P 
 
226 MINSTREL. 
 
 Love is now a little man, Htigh-ho, Heigh-ho, 
 And a very saucy one, Heigh-ho, Heigh-ho ; 
 He walks so stiff and looks so smart, 
 As if he own'd each maiden's heart, 
 I wish he felt his own keen dart, 
 
 He igh-ho, Heigh-ho. 
 
 Love will soon be growing old, Heigh-ho, Heigh-ho ; 
 Half his life's already told, Heigh-ho, Heigh-ho , 
 
 When he's dead and buried too, 
 
 What shall we poor maidens do, 
 
 Vm sure I cannot tell, can you, 
 
 Heigh-ho, Htigh-ho. 
 
 SHALL I THOSE BEAUTIES PRIZE. 
 Duett— Mr?. Knight and Mr. Povey, 
 Shall I those beauties prize, 
 
 That I can ne'er obtain ; 
 Or love those sparkling eye s, 
 
 That glance to give me pain, 
 Ah no, it will not grieve me, 
 
 To lose so false a heart ; 
 Forget thy love and leave me, 
 
 For ever let us part. 
 
 can a maid coni 
 In such a haughty youth. 
 Who own* a hmband's pi 
 Without a lover's truth . 
 
MINSTREL. 227 
 
 Mi no, it will not grieve me, 
 
 To fcsc so false a heart, 
 Forget thy love and leave me, 
 For ever let us part. 
 
 Go thou to him who'll share 
 His wealthy store with thee, 
 And thou to some lov'd fair, 
 An humble suitor be. 
 
 LET FAME SOUND THE TRUMPET. 
 
 Sung by Mr. Povcy. 
 Let fame sound the trumpet and eiy'to the war, 
 Let glory, let glory re-echo the strain, 
 he full tide of honor may fill from the scar, 
 And heroes may smite, may smile on their pain. 
 The treasure of autumn let Bacchus display, 
 
 And stagger about with his bowl, 
 
 )n science let Sol beam the lustre of day, 
 
 And wisdom give light to the soul. 
 
 <. t India unfold her'rich gems to ti^ view, 
 
 Each virtue, each joy to improve, 
 h ! give me the friends that I know to be true, 
 
 And the fair that I tenderly love, 
 hat's glory but pride, a vain bubble is fame, 
 
 And riot, the pleasure of wine, 
 r hat'a riche3 but trouble, and title"* a n 
 
 But fri^ndihip andkrve'are divine. 
 
M1NSTKKL. 
 
 O SOFTLY SLKKP MY l'.ABV BOY. 
 
 Sung by Mrs. Knight. 
 O softly sleep jny baby "boy, roek'd by the mountain 
 
 wind, 
 Thou dream'st not of u Lever false, nor of a world 
 
 unkind. 
 O sweetly sleep my baby boy, thy Mother guards thy 
 
 rest, 
 Thy fairy clasp, my little Joy, shall soothe her aching 
 
 breast. 
 
 Wake, wake and smile my baby boy, my heavy heart to 
 
 cheer. 
 The Wintry blast howls on the hill, the leaf grows red 
 
 and sear. 
 Oh, lefl me. tell me, baby boy, how shall I bear thy cry. 
 When hunger gnaws thy little Ik ait, and death light! 
 on thine eye? 
 
 Oh, was it meet my baby boy, 
 That thou such wierd should'st dree, 
 Kind Heaven forgive thy father false, 
 His wrongs to thee and me. 
 
 THE LAD THAT I LOVE. 
 Sung by Mrs, Knight. 
 The lad that I love no Lassie shall know oh ; oh ; 
 The path that he treads to no one I'll show, oh; oh ; 
 His heart is all truth when ever we m< et, 
 1 lun why should new faces e'er teach him deceit, 
 
MINSTREL. 2 2d 
 
 Oh ; no, I'll keep him and cherish him so, oh ; oh ; 
 That beauty herself sha'n't tempt him to go, oh ; oh. 
 The church is hard by, I very- well know, oh ; oh ; 
 f It show'd niethedoorandpress'dmyhand so, oh ; oh ; 
 Love, honor, obey, are the words to be said, 
 And I'll say 'em and keep 'em whenever I wed, 
 That is, if I marry the man that I know, oh ; oh ; 
 If not poor soul I shall bother him so, oh ; oh ; 
 My fortune's my face which I hope I may show, oh; oh ; 
 
 Tis horn st and that is a treasure I know,oh ; oh ; 
 his poor little hand is all I can give, 
 And \\ hen- I once pledge it, it ever shall live, 
 
 'or die 1 1< art's in the hand I mean to bestow, oh ; oh ; 
 
 And Hands are the gifts which make the heart glow, 
 oh ; oh. 
 
 NO TOY WITHOUT MY LOVE. 
 Sung by Mr, Povey. 
 If not with thee I'm blest, 
 In vain I twine the bow'r, 
 [f no1 t<» deck thy br« ast, 
 In vain I wreathe the flow's, 
 Such sc< nts ai these no joys can prove, 
 On earth no joy, no joy without my love. 
 
 Awakened by the genial year, 
 
 The warblers tiiil tin ir lay ; 
 
 The verdant fields bedeck'd appear, 
 
 With all the sweets of May ; 
 Such scen< s as ih se no joys can prove. 
 On earth no joy $ no joy without or] 
 
230 MINSTREL. 
 
 AID ME YE PITYING POWERS. 
 
 Su?ig by Mrs. Knight. 
 Aid me ye pitying powers, affection here subdue, 
 And in his faithless heart the name of love renew. 
 
 My soul with sorrow laden, 
 
 Repose must seek in vain ; 
 
 Ah I ne'er let simple maiden 
 
 Relieve in man again: 
 
 They sigh but to decieve us, 
 
 They woo but to torment, 
 
 And when we love, they leave us, 
 
 Our folly to repent; 
 
 Their vow's are all pretended, 
 
 The youthful heart to gain, 
 
 Rut when the charm is ended, 
 
 The victim they disdain. 
 
 DEAR MAID I LOVE THEE. 
 Duett— Mrs. Knight and Mr. Povcij. 
 Dear maid by ev'ry hope of bliss, 
 Dy love's first pledge the virgin kiss, 
 
 Ry Heaven and Earth I love thee ; 
 For ever in this heart shall dwell 
 The lovely form whose charms compel 
 This fault'ring tongue to softly tell, 
 
 How much dear maid I love thee. 
 Tho' time or place should intervene, 
 Still time that changes ev'ry scene, 
 
 Would make me still more love tin e, 
 
MINSTREL. 231 
 
 TW far apart as pole from pole, 
 1 still should feel thy lov'd control, 
 While my devoted constant soul 
 Would but exist to love thee, 
 
 While my devoted constant soul 
 Would" but exist to love thee. 
 
 WITH HELMET OX HIS BROW. 
 
 Swig by Mr. Povey. 
 With Helmet on his brow, and sabre on his tliigh, 
 The soldier mounts his gallant steed to conquer or to 
 
 die: 
 
 His plume like a pennon streams on the wanton sum- 
 mer wind, 
 n the path of glory still that white plume shalt thou 
 
 find; 
 
 ['hen let the trumpet's blast, to the brazen drum reply, 
 A Soldier must with honor live, or at once with honor 
 die." 
 
 bright as his own good sword, a soldiers fame must 
 
 be, 
 nd pure as the plume that floats above his helm, so 
 
 white and free, 
 To fear in his heart must dwell, but the dread that 
 
 shame may throw 
 ne spot upon that blade 60 bright, one stain on that 
 
 plume of snow ; 
 hen let the trumpet's blast, to the brazen drum reply, 
 V soldier must with honor live, or nt once with honor 
 
MINSTREL. 
 
 O GREEN WERE THE GROVES. 
 
 Sung by Mr. Povey. 
 O, green are the groves where with Rosa I stray 'd, 
 
 And bright are the hills all around, 
 The fields and the rallies are gaily array 'd, 
 
 And fresh flow'rets enamel the ground. 
 But my Rosa is gone, and left me forlorn, 
 
 To roam the most wretched of men, 
 The flowers of hope from my bosom are torn , 
 
 And they never shall blossom again. 
 
 The birds sing as sweetly on ev'ry green thorn, 
 
 The brook steals as soft thro' the grove, 
 The sun shines as bright, and as sweet smiles the mnm, 
 
 As they did when I roam'd with my lovt ; 
 But my Rosa is gone, and left me forlorn, 
 
 To roam the most wretched of men, 
 The flowers of hope from my bosom are torn, 
 
 And they never shall blossom again. 
 
 CANZONET, 
 
 Thine am I, my faithful fair, 
 Thine, my lovely Nancy ; 
 
 Every pulse along my veins, 
 Every roving fancy. 
 
 To thy bosom lay my heart. 
 There to throb and languish ; 
 
 Though despair had wraag 
 Th&t I 
 
MINSTREL. 
 
 Take away those rosy lips, 
 Rich with balmy treasure . 
 
 Turn away thine eyes of love, 
 Least I die with pleasure. 
 
 What is life when wanting lore, 
 
 Night, without a morning ; 
 Lore's the cloudless summer sun, 
 Nature gay adorning. 
 
 WITHIN A MILE. 
 
 Twas within a mile of Edinburgh town, 
 
 In the rosy time of the year, 
 
 Sweet flowers bloonvd and the grass was down, 
 
 And each shepherd woo'd his dear : 
 
 Bonny Jockey, blythe and gay, 
 
 Kiss'd sweet Jenny making hay ; 
 
 The lassie blush'd and frowning cry'd, 
 
 No, no, it will not do ; 
 I cannot, cannot, wonnot, wonnot, mannot buckle to. 
 
 Jockey was a wag that never would wed, 
 Though long he had follow 'd the lass : 
 j Contented she earn'd and ate her brown bread, 
 And merrily turn'd up the grass : 
 Bonny Jockey, blythe and free, 
 Won her heart light merrily, 
 | Yet still she blush'd, and frowning cry'd, 
 
 Xo, no, it will not do ; 
 II cannot, cannot, wonnot, wonnot, mannot buckle t<>. 
 
234 MINSTREL. 
 
 But when he vow'd he would make her bia bride, 
 
 Though his flocks and herds were not few, 
 She gave him her hand, and a kiss beside, 
 And vow'd she'd for ever be true. 
 Bonny Jockey, blythe and free, 
 Won her heart right merrily. 
 At church she no more frowning cry'd, 
 
 No, no, it will not do ; 
 I cannot, cannot, wonnot, wonnot mannot buckle to 
 
 ADOWN IN THE VALLEY. 
 Did you ne'er hear a tale, how a lad in the vale 
 
 Ask'd a damsel to grant him a kiss, 
 When this pretty maid cried, ' No, it must be denied,' 
 
 Yet all the while wish'd to say k yes ;' 
 For when on her pillow, she sigh'd for the willow, 
 
 Where Edward first saw pretty Sally, 
 Or rathe in truth she sigh'd for the youth 
 
 Adown adown down in the valley ? 
 
 Did you ne'er hear it said, when he ask'd her to wed> 
 
 And told her true love prompted so, 
 How this silly maid spoke, to lie sure 't was in joke, 
 
 For she answer'd him ' Shepherd, no, no.' 
 Yet when on her pillow she sigh'd for the willow, 
 
 Where Edward first saw pretty Sally, 
 Oh rather-m truth, she sigh'd for the youth 
 
 Adown adown down in the valley ? 
 
 But ah ! now you shall find how this maid changed 
 her mind, 
 When n twelvemonth had pass'd after this : 
 
MINSTREL. 2; 
 
 1 01 when he next press'd at the church to be Meat, 
 ' Oh,' she answer'd, c dear shepherd, yes, yes !' 
 
 Nor when on her pillow, more sigh'd for'the willow 
 Where Edward first saw pretty Sally ; 
 
 But hlest the fond day they to church flew away, 
 A down adown down in the valley. 
 
 KATE, THE WOODMAN'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 Air— Moggy Laivder. 
 Within yon cottage dwells a maid, 
 
 Mon- sweet than roses blooming, 
 With beauty's blended channs array 'd, 
 
 And yet she's unassuming. 
 Tli is lovely ti-ace of mental grace, 
 
 Which fost'ring nature taught her, 
 Bids every swain attune his strain, 
 
 To Kate, the Woodman's daughter. 
 
 Rut let them woo her if they will, 
 
 To me her troth is plighted ; 
 And what she's promis'd she'll fulfil, 
 
 By her no vows are blighted. 
 This lovely trace of mental grace 
 
 Was planted ere I sought her, 
 For virtue's hand attempted bland 
 
 Sweet Kate the Woodman's daughter. 
 
 Oh ! let the monarch fill his throne, 
 
 The miser keep his treasures, 
 Let me but call sweet Kate my own, 
 
 I'll envy not their pleasures , 
 
MINSTREL. 
 
 For e'en the trace of mental grace 
 For which the swains have sought her, 
 
 Shall be the dower, th' attractive pow'r 
 Of Kate, the Woodman's daughter. 
 
 LOVE AND GLORY. 
 
 Young Henry was as brave a youth 
 As ever graced a martial story, 
 
 And Jane was fair as spotless truth- 
 She died for love, and he for glory. 
 
 With her his faith he meant to plight, 
 And told her many a gallant story, 
 
 Rut war, their honest joys to blight, 
 Call'd him away from love to glory. 
 
 Young Henry met the foe with pride, 
 Jane follow'd— fought ! (a hapless story) : 
 
 In man's attire, by Henry's side, 
 She died for love, and he for glory. 
 
 CALL AGAIN TO-MORROW. 
 
 I'll to Court among all the nobility, 
 
 Hold up my head with the best, 
 Learn politeness and all incivility, 
 
 And be most presumptously drest. 
 Spoken.— Then I shall get an officious situation, and 
 expense favours and places like other great men ; but 
 if they oft* r me a bribe, as I am above all incorruption, 
 I shall, like my betters, pocket the affront with 
 
MINS1 REL. 
 
 Call again to-morrow 
 
 Can't you ? 
 Call again to morrow. 
 
 A II ranks and degrees of the quality 
 
 To ail my routs I'll invite, 
 \nd have, with true in hospitality, 
 Public breakfast at seven at night. 
 
 en— It will be pretty expensive, and I may over- 
 run the constable* ; but to pay debts is unfashionable 
 i i w hen a dim knocks at the door, I shall look out of 
 ili* window and say 
 
 Call again to morrow 
 
 Can't you ? 
 Call again to morrow. 
 
 I'll then, to support my indignity, 
 My hand to some heiress expose ; 
 Then, with all proper pride and benignity, 
 
 On old friends I'll turn up my nose. 
 Spoken.— Conscience may tease me a little, but it's all 
 dicky with that in the new school - common sense and 
 common honesty may do for common folks, but with 
 us people ofsnpefogatory rank it's all 
 Call again to morrow 
 
 Can't you ? 
 Call again to morrow. 
 
 THE HOSK OF THE VALLEY. 
 
 ■ of the valley in spring time was gay. 
 The rbx of the rallej It wither'd v* 
 
238 MINSTREL. 
 
 The swains all admired it, its praises repeat, 
 
 An emblem of virtue so simple and sweet ; 
 
 But a blight marr'd the blossom, and soon, wcll-a-day ! 
 
 The rose of the valley it withered away. 
 
 The rose of the valley a truth can impart, 
 By the rose of the valley- 1 picture my heart ; 
 The sun of content cheer'd the morn of its birth, 
 By innocence render'd a heaven on earth ; 
 But virtue and peace left the spot, well-a-day ! 
 And the rose of the valley it wither'd away. 
 
 MR. AND MRS. TICK. 
 Mrs. Waddle was a widow, and she made no little gain, 
 She kept a tripe and trotter shop in chick-a-biddy lane! 
 Her next door neighbour, Tommy Tick, a tallow man 
 
 was he, t 
 
 And he ax'd Mrs. Waddle just to take a cup often. 
 With his tiek-a-tee, tick-a-tee, 
 Tick a tiek-a-tee, &c. 
 
 Mrs. Waddle put her chintz on, and sent for Sammy 
 
 Sprig, 
 The titivating barber, to frizify her wig ; 
 Tommy Tick he dress'd in pompadouv, with double 
 
 chaimel'd pumps, 
 And he look'd when he\l his jazey on, just like the 
 
 jack of trumps. 
 
 With his tick-a-t< i * • 
 
MINSTREL. 239 
 
 Mi-. Waddle came in time for tea, ami down they sat 
 
 together, 
 They talk'd about the price of things, the fashions and 
 
 the weather ; 
 She staid to supper too, for Tommy Tick, without a 
 
 doubt, 
 Wasn't one of them who axes you to tea, and turns yo 
 
 out. 
 With his tick-a-tee, &c. 
 
 So TommyTick he won her heart, and they were mar- 
 ried fast, 
 
 And all so loving were at first, folks thought it couldn't 
 last; 
 
 They had words, and with a large cow-heel she gave 
 him such a wipe, 
 
 That he return'd the compliment witli half a yard of 
 tripe. 
 
 With his tick-a-tee, &c. 
 
 She took him to the justice such cruelty to cease, 
 
 Who bound the parties over to keep the public peace ; 
 
 But Mrs. Tick, one day, inflamed v\ ith max and mug- 
 gy weather, 
 
 She with a joint-stool broke the peace, and Tommy'* 
 head together. 
 
 With his tick-a-tcc, &'c. 
 
 THE WHIF-CLUTj. 
 a'sall fiddle-de-dee, 
 For playing : mad< 
 
240 MINSTREL. 
 
 But w lint's to become of poor nie i 
 
 'Tis the fashion to take up my trade. 
 In the whip-club exalted I stand, 
 
 As the cut of my coat will imply, 
 And while driving, d'ye mind, four in hand, 
 
 Can completely cut out a fly's eye. 
 Spoken.— Lord Slum, the Honourable Mr. Snook, 
 Sir Thingumbob What-d'ye-call-um, and I, drive tan- 
 dem like Phajtons > we square all round, and cut such 
 figures ! I laugh, he ! he I he ! and you'd laugh, ha ! 
 ha! ha! so let's all laugh, haw ! haw! haw! Ehr oh, 
 tol de rol, &e. 
 
 Driving tandem one day in a gig, 
 
 Full spank thro' the streets went the tits, 
 The ponies took fright at a pig, 
 
 And threw an old woman in fits ; 
 The leader broke trace, by the bye, 
 
 And down a blind lane t'other scuds, 
 Capsized, down a cellar went I, 
 
 Plump into a tub full of suds ! 
 
 Spoken.— I fell like another Phaiton. 4 What d'ye 
 want ?' said the laundress ; ' A drop of comfort, ' said 
 I; and if she hadn't given it me, I should certainly have 
 died of a dab-wash. I rose from the suds like IVenvs . 
 from the sea ; and I laughed, lie ! he ! he ! and the 
 washer- woman laughed, &c. 
 
 My big buttons will shew my degree 
 In the whip-elub, a compact sublime ! 
 
 And for choice souls what better can be, 
 Than getting the whip-hand oi* Time ? 
 
MINSTREL. 241 
 
 Some pretty gape-seed we produce, 
 
 Though 'tis playing the fool the wise toll ; 
 But though lords have for that no excuse, 
 
 With me, why it's all very well. 
 Spoken.— IVs all in my way. you know ; I play the 
 fool to shew others the absurdity of it ; cut capers to 
 drive away care, and make ugly mugs to drive away 
 melancholy ; and if every* one on life's stage acted his 
 part with such zeal and fidelity, and endeavoured like 
 me to put the brightest side on every thing, we should 
 all be so happy—I should laugh, he . he I lie I &c. 
 
 C, Dibdin. 
 
 THOMAS CLUTTERBUCK AND POLLY 
 HIGGINBOTTOM. 
 In Chester town a man there dwelt, 
 
 Not rich as Crcesus,but a buck ; 
 The pangs of love he clearly felt— 
 
 His name was Thomas Clutterbuck ; 
 The lady he did most approve, 
 
 Most guineas gold had got' em, 
 And Clutterbuck fell deep in love 
 
 With Polly Higginbottom, 
 
 O Thomas Clutterbuck I 
 O Polly Higginbottom ! 
 I sing the loves, the smiling loves, 
 Of Clutterbuck and Higginbottom. 
 
 A little trip he did propose ; 
 
 Upon the Dee they got 'em ; 
 I he wind blew high— he blew his nose, 
 And sung- to Tolly Higginbottom, 
 V<A. I, q 
 
I MINSTREL, 
 
 The strain was sweet, the stream was deep , 
 
 He thought his notes had caught her ; 
 But she, alas ! first fell asleep, 
 And then fell— in the water. 
 O Polly Higginbottom ! 
 She went to the l:ottom ; 
 I sing the death, the doleful death, 
 Of pretty Polly Higginbotom ! 
 
 Yet still he strain'd his little throat, 
 
 To love he did invite her, 
 And never miss'd her, till Ins boat 
 
 He thought went rather lighter ; 
 But when he saw that she was gone— 
 
 The summum of his wishes, 
 He boldly paid the waterman, 
 
 And jump'd among the fishes. 
 
 O Polly Higginbottom ! 
 He comes to the bottom ; 
 I sing the death, the double death, 
 Of Clutterbuck and Higginbottom : 
 
 Round Chester stalk the river ghosts 
 
 Of this young man and fair maid ; 
 His head looks like a salmon-trout, 
 
 Her tail is like a mermaid. 
 Learn this, ye constant lovers all, 
 
 Who live on England's island ; 
 The way to shun a watery death, 
 
 Is making love on dry land I 
 O Polly Higginbottom, 
 W ho lies at the bottom ! 
 So sing the ghosts— the wattery ghosts 
 
 Of Clutterbuck and Higginbottom. 
 
MINSTREL. 243 
 
 ELEU LORO. 
 
 YIi. iv shall the lover rest, whom the fates seror, 
 •'rom his true maiden's hreast parted for ever ? 
 Vhere, thro' groves deep Sc high, sounds the far billow, 
 Vhere early voilets die, under the willow. 
 
 Eleu loro, &c. Soft shall be his pillow. 
 
 I'here, thro" 1 the summer day, cool streams are laving ; 
 rhere,to the tempest's sway, scarce are boughs w aving; 
 /here, thy reft shaltthou take, parted for ever, 
 -evi c again to wake, never, O never. 
 
 Eleu loro, &c. Never, O never. 
 
 here shall the traitor rest, he the deceiver, 
 Vho could -win maiden's breast, ruin, and leave her ? 
 u the lost battle, borne down by the flying, 
 There mingles war's rattle with groans of the dying, 
 Eleu loro, &c. There shall he be lying. 
 
 er wing shall the eagle flap o'er the false-hearted ? 
 is Mann blood the wolf shall lap, ere life be parted. 
 name and dishonour sit by his grave ever ; 
 lessing shall hallow it, never, O never. 
 
 Eleu loro, See. Never, O never. W. Scott. 
 
 WILLIAM AND MARY. 
 Ere sorrow taught my tears to flow, 
 
 They call'd me— happy Mary ; 
 In rural cot, my humble lot, 
 
 I play'd like any fair)" : 
 
244 MINSTV I 
 
 And when the sun, with gulden my, 
 
 Sunk down the western sky, 
 Upon the green to dance or play, 
 
 The first was happy I. 
 Fond as the dove was my true love, 
 
 Oh I he was kind to me ! 
 And, what was still my greater pride, 
 I thought I should be William's bride, 
 
 When he return'd from sea. 
 
 Ah, what avails remembrance now ? 
 
 It lends a dart to sorrow : 
 My once lov'd cot, and happy lot, 
 
 But loads with grief to-morrow. 
 My William's buried in the deep, 
 
 And I am sore oppress'd I 
 Now all the day I sit and weep, 
 
 At night I know no rest. 
 I dream of waves— and sailors' graves 
 
 In horrid wrecks I see ! 
 And when I hear the midnight wind, 
 All comforts flics my troubled mind, 
 
 For William lost at sea ! 
 
 GLEE. 
 
 We'll dance around, we four ; 
 To'mirth and glee 
 Give welcome free, 
 
 And show old care th^ dood 
 
MINSTREL. 245 
 
 I'.i i- f clouds of storm or rain 
 
 We'll, like the sun, disdain ; 
 
 He lets them fly, 
 
 Or shines them dry, 
 
 And looks out bright again. 
 
 We'll dance around, &c. 
 
 Misfortune's visits fall 
 Alike on great and small, 
 
 But men of wit— 
 
 The devil a bit, 
 Do they return his call. 
 
 We'll dance around, &c. 
 
 BILLY LACKADAY. 
 Sure mortal man was born to sorrow, 
 Grief to day and grief to-morrow ; 
 flere I'm snubb'd and there I'm rated, 
 NVer was youth so sittivated. 
 rhere's Mrs. Bell swears none shall trick her ; 
 \nd if I steeps tny nose in liquor, 
 For every drop I take she charges, 
 \nd our small alt's as sour as warges, 
 
 Lackaday, oh, Lackaday, 
 
 Pity Billy Lackaday. 
 
 Poor Susan scolds, and when I've heard her, 
 
 dreams all night of love and murder. 
 [ sighs, I groans, like any paviour, 
 r'nrp tinp all g e nte el behaviour. 
 
146 MINSTREL. 
 
 Miss Fanny, she as has undone me, 
 Like any queen looks down upon me : 
 And when I kneels to ax for mercy, 
 It does no good, but ivice xversay, 
 Lackaday, oh, Lackaday, 
 Pity Billy Lackaday. 
 
 THY CHEEK, MY SWEET FAIR. 
 
 Thy cheek, my sweet fair, 
 
 To the rose may compare, 
 And thy breath may its fragrance exhale ; 
 
 But as light is thy mind, 
 
 As its leaves in the wind, 
 That yield to each fluttering gale. 
 
 " IVe linger'd to toy 
 
 " With the promise of joy 
 
 " That beam'd in the glance of thine eye ; 
 " But my hopes soon have fled, 
 " And the sweet things it srlid 
 
 M How quickly thy tongue could deny. 1 * 
 
 Ah, were it not kind 
 
 Thy victims to find 
 'Mid the triflers around thee that rove ; 
 
 So false, yet so fair— 
 
 Ah, why would you snare 
 A heart that so dearly could love ! 
 
MINSTREL. 247 
 
 ELLEN O'MOORE. 
 
 Ah, soldiers of Britain, your merciless doings 
 Long, long, must the children of Erin deplore ; 
 
 Oh, sad is my soul when 1 view the black ruins 
 Where once stood the cottage of Ellen O'Moore. 
 
 Her father (God rest him !) lov'd Ireland most dearly, 
 All its wrongs, all its sufferings, he felt most severely, 
 
 And with Freedom's bold sons united sincerely. 
 
 i But gone is the father of Ellen O'Moore 1 
 
 3ne cold winter's night, as Dermotlay nutting, 
 Hoarse curses alarmed him, and crash went the door ; 
 
 The fierce soldiers entcr'd, and straight 'gan abusing 
 
 ' The brave but mild father of Ellen O'Moore ! 
 
 I'o their scoffs he reply'd not— with Wows they assail'd 
 him ; 
 He felt all indignant ; his caution now fail'd him ; 
 
 le retuni'd their sad blows, and all Munster bewail'd 
 him, 
 For stabb'd was the father of Ellen O'Moore. ! 
 
 The children's wild screams, and the mother's distrac- 
 tion, * 
 While the father, the husband, lay streteh'd in his 
 
 gore! 
 h ! who can relate^ and not curse the foul faction, 
 That blasted this rose bud, sweet Ellen O'Moore ! 
 ) my father, my father ! she cries, wildly throwing 
 Her arms round his neck, while hi* lift*-* blood wn« 
 flowing; 
 the kiss'dhis cold lips, but poor Dermot was goincr, 
 H* groan'd, and left fatherless Ellen O'M 
 
348 MINSTREL. 
 
 With destruction uncloy'd, this infernal banditti, 
 
 Though the rain fell in sheets, and the temped blew 
 sore, 
 Those friends to the castle, but foes to all pity, 
 
 Set fire to the dwelling of Ellen O'Moore I 
 The children, the mother, half-naked, and shrieking, 
 
 Escap'd from the flames where Dermot lay reeking. 
 And while these poor victims for shelter were seeking. 
 
 Ah ! mark what befel poor Ellen O'Moore ! 
 
 From her father's pale corpse, which her lap had sup- 
 ported, 
 
 Relentless the ruffians this lovely girl bore : 
 With her tears, her entreaties, her sorrows they sported. 
 
 And sad was the fate of poor Ellen O'Moore ! 
 And now a wild maniac, she roams the wide common. 
 
 Gainst the soldiers of Britain she warns ev'ry woman. 
 And sings of her father in strains more than human, 
 
 'Till the tears overpower poor Ellen O'Moore ! 
 
 Oh, ye daughters of Erin, your country's salvation, 
 
 While the waves of old ocean shall beat round youi 
 shore, 
 Remember the wrongs of thy long sbackl'd nation, 
 
 Remember the woes of poor Ellen O'Moore I 
 And while your hearts swell, with spirits of fire, 
 
 Your brothers, your lovers, your children inspire, 
 'Till Union shall make all oppressors retire 
 
 From the soil where now wanders poor Ellen O* 
 Moore. 
 
MINSTREL. 240 
 
 GRAMACHREE. 
 At down on Banna's banks I stray'd, one evening in 
 
 May, 
 The little birds in blithest notes made vocal ev'ry'spray, 
 They sung their little tales of love, they sung them o'er 
 
 and o'er, 
 Ah ! gramachrce, ma hallenogue,my Molly Astore. 
 
 The daisy pied, and all the sweets which bounteous 
 
 nature yields, 
 The primrose pale, and vi'letblue, lay scattered o'er 
 
 the fields, 
 
 Such fragrance in the bosom lies of her whom I adore, 
 Ah ! gramachree, &c. 
 
 I laid me down upon a bank, bewailing my sad fate, 
 
 That doom'd me thus the slave of love, and cruel Mol- 
 ly's hate : 
 
 How can she break the honest heart that wears her in 
 its core ? 
 Ah ! gramachree, &c. 
 
 You said you lov'd, me Molly dear, Ah! why did I be- 
 lieve? 
 
 Yet who could think such tender words were meant 
 but to deceive ? 
 
 Your love was all I ask'd on earth, nay, heav'n could 
 give no more, 
 Ah >. gramachree, &c, 
 
 O had I all the flocks that graze on yonder yellow hil 
 Oi lcm'd fur me thenum'rous herds that yon greo 
 pasture fill ; 
 
250 MINSTREL. 
 
 Willi her 1 love, I'd gladly share my kine and fleecy 
 store. 
 Ah I gramachree, &c. 
 
 Two turtle doTes, above my head, sat courting on a 
 
 bough, 
 I envy them their happiness, to see them bill and coo ; 
 Such fondness once for me she show'd, but now, alas .' 
 'tis o'er. 
 Ah ! gramachrec,'h.z. 
 
 SWEET ANNIE. 
 Sweet Annie frae the sea-beach came, 
 
 Where Jockey speei'd the vessel's side, 
 Ah ! wha can keep their heart at hame, 
 
 Whan Jockey's tost aboon the tide ? 
 Far off to distant realms he gangs, 
 
 Yet I'll prove true as he has been ; 
 And when ilk lass about him thrangs, 
 
 He'll think on Annie, his faithful ane. 
 
 I met our wealthy laird yestreen, 
 
 Wi' goud in hand he tempted me, 
 He prais'd my brow, my rolling een, 
 
 And made a brag of what he'd gie. 
 What though my Jockey's far away, 
 
 Tost up and down the awsome main, 
 I'll keep my heart anithcr day, 
 
 Since Jockey may return again. 
 
MINSTREL. 
 
 mair, false Jamie, sing nac mair, 
 
 And fairly cast your pipes away ; 
 My Jockey wad be troubled sair, 
 
 To see his friend his love betray ; 
 For a' your sangs and verse are vain. 
 
 While Jockey's notes do faithful flow ; 
 My heart to him shall true remain, 
 
 I'll keep it for my constant Jo. 
 
 Blaw saft ye gales, 'round Jockey's head, 
 
 And gar the waves be calm and still ; 
 His homeward sail wi' breezes speed, 
 
 And dinna a' my pleasure spill. 
 What though my Jockey's far away, 
 
 Yet he will braw in siller shine ; 
 Til keep my heart anither day, 
 
 Since Jockey may again be mine. 
 
 THE WHITE COCKADE. 
 A Highland lad my love was born, 
 The lawland laws was held in scorn ; 
 Rut he still was tatthfid to his clan, 
 My gallant braw John Highlandman, 
 
 Sing hey, my braw John Highlandman, 
 Smg ho, my braw John Highlandman, 
 There's not a lad in a*the land 
 Was match for my John Highlandman. 
 
 With his philabeg and tartan plaid, 
 I Claymore down by his side, 
 
3 MINSTREL. 
 
 The ladies' heatt-. he did trepan, 
 My gallant braw John Highlandman. 
 Sing hey, &c. 
 
 We rang'd a 1 from Tweed to Spey, 
 And liv'cl like lords and ladies gay ; 
 For a lawland face he feared none, 
 My gallant braw John Highlandman : 
 Sing hey, &c. 
 
 They banish him beyond the sea, 
 But ere the bud was on the tree, 
 Adown my cheeks the pearls ran, 
 Embracing my John Highlandman. 
 Sing hey, &c. 
 
 But oh ! they catch'd him at the last, 
 
 And bound him in a dungeon fast, 
 
 My curse upon them every one, 
 
 TheVe hang'd my braw John Highlandman. 
 
 Sing hey, &c. 
 
 And now a widow I must mourn 
 Departed joys that ne'er return ; 
 No comfort but a hearty can, 
 When I think on John Highlandman. 
 
 Sing hey, &c. Hurm. 
 
 THE MAID OF ERIN. 
 
 My thought? delight to wander, 
 
 Upon a distant shore ; 
 Where lovely, fair, and tender. 
 
 Is ike whom I adore. 
 
MINSTREL. 
 
 Mny Heaven its blessings sparing, 
 
 On her bestow them free ; 
 The lovely Maid of Krin ! 
 Who sweetly sang to me. 
 
 Had fortune fix'd my station, 
 
 In some propitious hour, 
 The monarch of a nation, 
 
 Endow'd with wealth and power, 
 That wealth and power sharing, 
 
 My peerless queen should be 
 The lovely Maid of Erin ! 
 
 Who sweetly sang to me. 
 
 Although the restless ocean. 
 
 May long between us roar, 
 Yet w hile my heart has motion, 
 
 She'll lodge within its core. 
 For artless and endearing, 
 
 And mild and young is she; 
 The lovely Maid of Erin ! 
 
 Who sweetly sang to me. 
 
 When fate gives intimation, 
 
 That my last hour is nigh ; 
 With placid resignation, 
 
 I'll lay me down and die. 
 Fond hope my bosom cheering, 
 
 That I in Heaven shall jee 
 The lovely Maid of Erin ! 
 
 Who sweetly sang to me. 
 
MINSTREL. 
 
 MOYLE WATERS. 
 Silent, oh Movie ! be the roar of thy waters, 
 
 Break not, ye breezes, your chain of repose, 
 WhAe, murmuring mournfully, Lir's lonely daughter 
 
 Tells to the night star her tale of woe. 
 When shall the swain, her death-note singing, 
 
 Sleep with wings in darkness furlM ? 
 When will heav'n its sweet bell ringing. 
 
 Call my spirit from this stormy world ? 
 Sadly, oh Moyle ! to thy wintry blasts weeping, 
 
 Fate bids me languish long ages away ; 
 Yet still in darkness doth Erin lie sleeping. 
 
 Still doth the pure light its dawning delay 1 
 Wheat will that day-star mildly springing, 
 
 Warm our isle with peace and lore ? 
 When will heav'n its sweet bell ringing, 
 
 Call my spirit to the fields above ? 
 
 THE BALLAD SINGER. 
 Here are catches, songs and glees, 
 
 Some are twenty for a penny ; 
 You shall have v hate'er you please, 
 
 Take your choice, for here are many. 
 
 Here is— Nan of Glo'ster-Grccn, 
 Here's the— Lilies of the valley ; 
 
 Here is— Kate of Aberdeen, 
 Here i*— Sally in our Alley. 
 
MINSTREL. 
 
 Here is— Mary's Dream— Poor Jack, 
 Here's— The Tinker and the Tailor, 
 
 Here's— Bow-wow and Paddy Whack- 
 Tally ho— The hardy Sailor. 
 
 Here's— Dick Dock— The hearty Blade, 
 Captain Wattle, and the Grinder ; 
 
 And I've got the Cottage Maid, 
 Tho' d — me if I cantindher. 
 
 Drinking songs, do here abound, 
 Toby Philpot— Fill the Glasses ; 
 
 And — How stands the Glass around ?— 
 Here's a health to all kind lasses. 
 
 Here's— Come join the social band, 
 Here's — Jack thou art a noodle, 
 
 Here's— Hail Columbia, happy land- 
 Stony point, and Yankee Doodle. 
 
 THE IRISHMAN. 
 The savage loves his native shore, 
 
 Tho' rude the soil, and chill the air ; 
 Well then may Erin's sons adore 
 
 Their Isle, that nature formed so fair : 
 What flood reflects a shore so sweet, 
 
 As glorious Boyne, or pastoral Bann ? 
 And who a friend or foe can meet, 
 
 So generous as an Irishman ? 
 
 His hand is rash, his heart is warm, 
 But principle is still his guide ; 
 
6 MINSTREL, 
 
 None more repents a deed of harm, 
 And none forgives with nobler pride. 
 
 He may be dup'd, but won't be dar d : 
 Fitter to practise than to plan, 
 
 He ably earns his poor reward, 
 And spends it like an Irishman. 
 
 If poor or strange, for you he'll pay, 
 
 And guide you safe where you may be ; 
 If you're a stranger, while" you stay 
 
 His cottage holds a jubilee ; 
 His utmost soul he will unlock, 
 
 And if he may your secrets scan, 
 Your confidence he scorns to mock, 
 
 For faithful is an Irishman. 
 
 By honor bound, in woe or weal, 
 
 Whate'er she bids he dare to do ; 
 Tempt him with bribes, or if you fail, 
 
 Try him in fire, you'll find him true : 
 He seeks not safety, let his post 
 
 Be where it ought, in danger's van ; 
 And if the field of fame be lost, 
 
 'Twill not be by an Irishman. 
 
 Erin ! lov'd land from age to age, 
 
 3e thou more bless'd, more fam'd and free! 
 May peace be yours, and should you wage 
 
 Defensive wars, reap victory ; 
 May plenty bloom in every field, 
 
 And gentle breezes sweetly fan, 
 And generous smiles serenely shield 
 
 The breast of every Irishman. 
 
MIN T STREL 257 
 
 THE MALTESE BOAT SONG. 
 
 See, brothers see, how the night comes on, 
 
 Slowly sinks the setting sun, 
 
 Hark, how the solemn vesper's sound 
 
 Sweetly falls upon the ear ; 
 Then haste let us work till the day-light is o'er, 
 And fold our nets as we row to the shore— 
 Our toil of labour being o'er, 
 How sweet the boatman's welcome home. 
 Home, home, home, the boatman's welcome home, 
 Sweet, oh sweet the boatman's welcome home* 
 
 See how the tints of daylight die, 
 
 Soon we'll hear the tender sigh ; 
 
 For when the toil of labour's o'er, 
 
 We shall meet our friends on shore. 
 Then haste let us work till the daylight is o'er, 
 And fold our nets as we row to the shore ; 
 For fame or gold how'er we roam, 
 No sound so sweet as welcome home. 
 Home, home, home, the boatman's welcome home 5 
 Sweet, oh sweet the boatman's welcome home. 
 Then haste let us, &c. 
 
 ISABEL. 
 
 Wako, dearest, wake ! and again united 
 
 "We'll rove by yonder sea ; 
 And v here our first vows of love were plighted, 
 
 Our last farewell shall be ; 
 oi. I. R 
 
253 M1KSTR2L 
 
 There oft I've gaz'd on thy smiles delighted, 
 
 And there 1*11 part from thee. 
 There oft I've gaz'd on thy smiles delighted ; 
 And there I'll part from thee. 
 Isabel I Isabel ! Isabel I 
 
 One look, though that look is in sorrow ; 
 Fare thee well I fare thee well ! fare thee well 
 Far hence I shall wander to-morrow : 
 Ah me ! Ah me I 
 
 .Dark is my doom, and from thee I sever, 
 
 Whom I haye lov'd alone ; 
 'Twere cruel to link thy fate forever. 
 
 With sorrows like my own ; 
 Go smile on livelier friends, and never 
 
 Lament me when I'm gone. 
 Go smile on livelier friends, and never 
 
 Lament me when I'm gone, 
 Isabel ! Isabel, &c. 
 
 And when at length in these lovely bowel >. 
 
 Some happier youth to see ; 
 And you cull for him spring's sweetest flowers.. 
 
 A nd he sings of love to thee : 
 When you laugh with him at these vanish'd houn 
 
 Oh ! tell him to love like me. 
 When you laugh with him at these vpnish'd hour 
 
 Oh ! tell him to love like me. 
 Isabel ! Isabel, &e. 
 
 THE CONTENTED FELLOW, 
 i ontented T am. and contented T'll be ; 
 For what can this world more aflTc 
 
MINSTREL. 239 
 
 Than a girl that will socially sit on my knee, 
 And a cellar that's plentiful stor'd 
 My brave boys ? 
 
 See, my vault door is open, descend every guest, 
 Tap the cask, for the wine we will try ; 
 
 '1 is as sweet as the lips of your love to the taste, 
 And as bright as her cheeks to your eye, 
 My brave boys. 
 
 Sound that pipe, 'tis in tune, and the binns are well 
 filTd ; 
 View that heap of champaign in the rear ! 
 Those bottles are Burgundy: see how they're pil'd, 
 Like artillery, tier upon tier, 
 My brave buys. 
 
 My cellar's my camp, and my soldiers my flasks, 
 
 All gloriously ranged in view ; 
 When I cast my eyes round, I consider my casks 
 
 As kingdoms I've got to subdue, 
 My brave boys. 
 
 Tn a piece of slit hoop I my candle have stuck ; 
 
 'Twill light us each bottle to hand ; 
 The foot of my glass for the purpose I broke, 
 
 For I hate that a bumper should stand. 
 My brave boys. 
 
 lis my will, when I die, net a tear should be shed, 
 
 No hie jacet engrav'd on my stone ; 
 ut pour on my coffin a bottle of red, 
 
 And say that his drinking is don*\ 
 M \ brave boys. 
 
260 MINSTREL. 
 
 SONG. 
 While I hang on your bosom, distracted to lose you, 
 
 High swells my sad heart, and fast my tears flow, 
 Yet think not of coldness they fall to accuse you— 
 
 Did I ever upbraid you ? oh no, my love no. 
 
 I own it would please me, at home could you tany, 
 Nor e'er feel a wish from Maria to go ; 
 
 But if it gives pleasure to you, my dear Harry, 
 Shall I blame your departure ? oh no, my love, n 
 
 Now do not, dear Hal, while abroad you are strayinj 
 That heart which is mine on a rival bestow ; 
 
 Nay, banish that frown, displeasure betraying— 
 Do you thick I suspect you ? O no, my love, no. 
 
 1 believe you too kind for one moment to grieve me 
 Or plant in a heart which adores you such wo ; I 
 
 Yet should you dishonour my truth and deceive me 
 Should I e'er cease to love you ? oh no, my love,i 
 
 THOSE EVENING BELLS, 
 Those evening bells, those evening bells, 
 How many a tale their music teils 
 Of youth and horn;-, and that sweet time, 
 When last I heard their soothing chime. 
 
 Those joyous hours are past away, 
 And many a heart that then was gay, 
 Within the tomb now darkly dwells, 
 And hears no more those evening bells ! 
 
MINSTREL. 261 
 
 And so 'twill be when I am gone, 
 That tuneful peal w»Il still ring on, 
 While other bards shall walk these dells, 
 And sing your praise, sweet evening bells ! 
 
 T. Moore* 
 
 GO WHERE GLORY WAITS THEE. 
 Go where glory waits thee, 
 But while fame elates thee, 
 
 Oh ! still remember me. 
 When the praise thou meetest, 
 To thine ear is sweetest, 
 
 Oh I then remember me. 
 Other arms may press thee, 
 Dearer friends caress thee, 
 All the joys that bless thee, 
 
 Sweeter far may be : 
 But when friends are nearest, 
 And when joys are dearest, 
 
 Oh .' then remember me. 
 
 When, at eve, thou rovest, 
 By the star thou lovest, 
 
 Oh ! then remember me. 
 Think, when home returning ; 
 Bright we've seen it burning, 
 
 Oh ! thus remember me. 
 Oft as summer closes, 
 When thine eye reposes 
 On its lingering roses, 
 
362 MINSTREL, 
 
 Once so lov'd by thee, 
 Think of her who wove them, 
 Her who made thee love them ; 
 
 Oh I then remember me. 
 
 When around thee dying 
 Autumn leaves are lying, 
 
 Oh ! then remember me. 
 And, at night, when gazing 
 On the gay hearth blazing, 
 
 Oh ! still remember me. 
 Then should music stealing 
 All the soul of feeling, 
 To thy heart appealing, 
 
 Draw one tear from thee : 
 Then let memory bring thee 
 Strains I us'd to sing thee — 
 
 Oh ! then remember me. 
 
 THE WOODMAN. 
 
 To a woodman's hut there came one day 
 
 A physician and dancing master ; 
 This fellow's hovel must serve said they, 
 
 For the rain pours faster and faster. 
 
 The physician was proud, and toss'd up his head, 
 And scarce would the woodman mark, sir ; 
 
 M But doctor, we're equals," the woodman taidj 
 " For we both of us deal in bark, sir." 
 
MINSTREL. 261, 
 
 The master of dance was a9 grand a« you please, 
 'Till the woodman cried, tw how now, sir ! 
 
 You cut but capers, I cut trees, 
 And we all know the worth of a bow, sir." 
 
 At last, says the woodman, l< the weather is good, 
 For the rain only falls from the eaves, now ; 
 
 So put out your heads, 'twill be carrying wood : 
 And pray, both be taking your leaves now." 
 
 Coleman Jr. 
 
 THE FAIREST ROSE IS FAR AWA.' 
 The morn is blinking o'er the hills 
 
 With soften'd light, and colours gay ; 
 Through grove and valley sweetly thrill* 
 
 The melody of early day ; 
 The dewy roses blooming fair, 
 
 Glitter around her father's ha', 
 But still my Mary is not there— 
 
 The Surest rose is far awa'. 
 
 The cooling zephyrs gently blow 
 
 Along the dew-bespangled mead— 
 In ev'ry field the oxen low— 
 
 The careless shepherd tunes his reed— 
 And while the roses blooming fair, 
 
 My lute with softly dying fa' 
 Laments that Mary is not there— 
 
 The fairest rose is far awa\ 
 
I MINSTREL. 
 
 The thrush is singing on the hills 
 
 And charms the groves that wave around, 
 And through the vale the winding rills 
 
 Awake a softly murmuring sound ; 
 The robin tunes his mellow throat 
 
 Where glittering roses sweetly blaw, 
 But grieves that Mary hears him not— 
 
 The fairest rose is far awa\ 
 
 Why breathe thy melody in vain, 
 . Thou lovely songster of the morn- 
 Why pour thy ever-varying strain 
 
 Amid the sprays of yonder thorn- 
 Do not the roses blooming fair 
 
 At morning's dawn or evening's fa' 
 Tell thee of one that is not there— 
 
 The fairest rose that's far awa\ 
 
 THE MAID OF LODI. 
 
 I sing the maid of Lodi, 
 
 Who sweetly sung to me, 
 Whose brows were never cloudy, 
 
 Nor e'er distort with glee. 
 She values not the wealthy, 
 
 Unless they're great and good, 
 For she is strong and healthy, 
 
 And by labour earns her food. 
 
 And when her day's work's over, 
 Around a cheerful fire, 
 
MINSTREL. 
 
 She sings, or rests contented ; 
 
 What more can man desire ? 
 Let those who squander millions 
 
 Review her happy lot, 
 They'll find their proud pavilions 
 
 Far inferior to her cot* 
 
 Between the Po and Parma 
 
 Some villains siez'd my coach, 
 And dragg'd me to a cavern, 
 
 Most dreadful to approach ; 
 By which the maid of Lodi 
 
 Came trotting from the fair ; 
 She paus'd to hear my wailings, 
 
 And see me tear my hair. 
 
 Then to her market basket 
 
 She tied her poney's rein ; 
 I thus by female courage 
 
 Was dragg'd to life again. 
 She led me to her dwelling, 
 
 She cheer*dmy heart with wine 
 And then she deck'd a table, 
 
 At which the gods might dine. 
 
 Among the mild Madonas 
 
 Her features you may find ; 
 But not the fam'd Correggios 
 
 Could ever paint her mind. 
 Then sing the maid of Lodi, 
 
 Who sweetly sung to me ; 
 And when this maid is married, 
 
 Still happier may she be. 
 
j MINSTREL. 
 
 I'LL BE MARRIED TO THEE. 
 I am teaz'd to death from morn till night, 
 
 And its all along with who,^ 
 Why its all for thee, my heart % delight, 
 
 Dear Sandy, I tell thee true. 
 My father stamps, and my mother scolds. 
 
 Aye, and leads me such a life, 
 And its all for being too young I ra told, 
 To be my Sandy's wife. 
 Than gang o'er the hills with me, my lore, 
 
 Gang o'er the hills with me, 
 Gang o'er the hills with me, my love, 
 And I'll be married to thee. 
 There is ne'er a laird in all Dumfries, 
 
 Though many a laird there be, 
 Can ever say such things to please 
 
 As my deai* Shepherd to me. 
 And though but little the youth can boast, 
 
 Of acres, houses or gear, 
 Of all the Shepherds I love him most, 
 And he is my only dear. 
 
 Then gang o'er the hills, &c. 
 Twelve months are gone and something more, 
 
 Since we fix'd on to wed, 
 And should we tarry till e'en threescore, 
 
 Why something will e'en be said ; 
 Then let us now, while yet 'tis spring, 
 
 And sympathy warms each breast, 
 Twine hands together in Hymen's string, 
 And love will make up the rest. 
 
 Then gang o'er the hills, &e ; 
 
MINSTREL. >6 
 
 GREEN GROW THE RASHES. 
 Green grow the rashes, O ; 
 
 Green grow the rashes, O ; 
 The sweetest hours that e'er I spend, 
 Are spent amang the lasses, O ! 
 There's naught but care on ev'ry han', 
 
 In ev'ry hour that passes, O ; 
 What signifies the life o' man, 
 An' 'twere na' for the lasses, O ? 
 Green grow, &c. 
 The warldly race may riches chase, 
 And riches still may fly them, O ; 
 And though at last they catch them fast, 
 Their hearts can ne'er enjoy them, O. 
 Green grow, &c. 
 
 Gie me a cannie hour at e'en, 
 
 My arms around my dearie, O ; 
 An' warldly cares an' warldly men, 
 
 May a' gae tapsalteerie, O. 
 
 Green grow, &c. 
 
 For you sae douse, ye sneer at this, 
 
 Ye're nought but senseless asses, O ; 
 The wisest man the warl' e'er saw, 
 
 He dearly lo'ed the lasses' O. 
 
 Green grow, &c. 
 Auld nature swears the lovely dears 
 
 Her noblest work she classes, O; 
 Her 'prentice han* she try'd on man, 
 
 And then she made the lasses, O. 
 
 Green grow, &c, Burns 
 
268 MINSTREL. 
 
 GIVE ISAAC THE NYMPH. 
 Give Isaac the nymph who no beauty can boast, 
 But health and good humour to make her his toast ; 
 If straight, I don't mind whether slender or fat, 
 And six feet or four, we'll ne'er quarrel for that. 
 
 Whate'er her complexion, I vow I don't care ; 
 If brown, it is lasting, more pleasing if fair : 
 And though in her face I no dimples could see, 
 Let her smile, and each dell is a dimple to me. 
 
 Let her locks be the reddest that ever were seen, 
 And her eyes may be e'en any colour but green ; 
 Be they light, gray, or black, their luster and hue, 
 I swear I've no choice, only let her have two. 
 
 'Tis true, I'd dispense with a throne on her back, 
 And white teeth, I own, are genteeler than black ; 
 A little round chin is a beauty, I've heard, 
 But I only desire she mayn't have a beard. 
 
 Sheridan, 
 
 1 
 
 CAN OP GROG. 
 
 While up the shrouds the sailor goes, 
 
 Or ventures on the yard ; 
 The landsman who no better knows, 
 Believes his lot is hard. 
 But Jack with smiles each danger meets, 
 
 Casts anchor, heaves the log, 
 Trims all the sails belays the sheets, 
 And drinks his can of grog. 
 
MINSTREL. 2fiO 
 
 When mountains high the waves that swell 
 
 The vessel rudely bear, 
 Now sinking in a hollow dell, 
 
 Now quiv'ring in the air ; 
 
 Bold Jack, &c. 
 
 When waves 'gainst rocks and quicksands roar, 
 
 You ne'er hear him repine ; 
 Freezing near Greenland's icy shore, 
 
 Or burning near the line ; 
 
 Bold Jack, &c. 
 
 If to engage they give the word, 
 
 To quarters all repair ; 
 While splinter'd masts go by the board, 
 
 And shot sing through the air: 
 
 Bold Jack, Sec. 
 
 THE HOBBIES. 
 Attention pray c^ive while of hobbies I sing, 
 For each has his hobby, from cobler to king ; 
 On some favorite hobby we all get astride, 
 And when we're once mounted, full gallop we ride. 
 
 All on hobbies, nil on hobbies, 
 
 All on hobbies, gee up, and gee O. 
 
 Some hobbies are restive, and hard for to govern ; 
 E'en just like our wives, they'er so cursedly stubborn. 
 The hobbies of scolds are their husbands to t^ase, 
 And the hobbies of )., nty of fees. 
 
 All on hobbies, Sec. 
 
270 MINSTREL. 
 
 The beaux, those sweet gentlemen's hobby, good lack ! 
 Is to wear great large poultices tied round the neck ; 
 And they think in the ton and the tippe they're drest, 
 If they've breeches that reach from the ankle to chest. 
 All on hobbies, &c. 
 
 The hobbies of sailors, when safe moor'd in port, 
 With their wives and their sweethearts to toy and to 
 
 sport; 
 When our navy's completed, their hobby shall be, 
 To shew the whole world that America's free. 
 
 All on hobbies, 8c c. 
 
 The hobbies of soldiers in time of great wars, 
 
 Are breaches and battles, with blood, wounds and scars; 
 
 But in peace you'll observe that quite different their 
 
 trade is : 
 The hobbies of soldiers, in peace, are the ladies. 
 
 All on hobbies, &c. 
 
 The ladies, sweet creatures ! yes they now and thru, 
 Get astnd of their hobbies, e'en just like the men : 
 With smiles and with simpers beguile us with ease ; 
 And we gallop, trot, amble, e'en just as they please. 
 All on hobbies, &c. 
 
 The American's hobbies has long since been known : 
 No tyrant or king shall from them have a throne : 
 Their states are united— and let it be said, 
 Their hobby is Washington^ peace and free trade. 
 All on hobbies, &c= 
 
MINSTREL. 
 
 SWEET LILIES OF THE VALLEY. 
 O'er barren hills and flow'ry dales, 
 
 O'er seas and distant shores, 
 "With merry songs and jocund tales, 
 
 I've past some pleasing hours ; 
 Though wand'ring thus, I ne'er could find 
 
 A girl like blithsome Sally, 
 v.'ho picks and culls, and cries aloud, 
 
 Sweet lilies of the valley. 
 P'rom whistling o'er theharrow'd tnrf, 
 
 From nestling of each tree, 
 I chose a soldier's life to lead, 
 
 So social, gay, and free : 
 Yet, though the lasses love as well, 
 
 And often try to rally, 
 None pleases me like her, who cries. 
 
 Sweet lilies of the valley. 
 I'm now retum'd of late discharg'd, 
 
 To use my native toil ; 
 From fighting in my country's cause, 
 
 To plough my country's soil : 
 I care not which, with either pleasM, 
 
 So I possess my Sally, 
 That little merry nymph who cries, 
 Sweet lilies of the vallev. 
 
 GALL A WATER. 
 Hm n »i braw, braw lads, on Yarrow braes 
 That « ander thro' the blooming heather | 
 
2 MINSTREL. 
 
 But Yarrow braes, nor Ettric shaws. 
 Can match the lad o' Galla water. 
 
 But there is ane, a secret ane, 
 Aboon them a' I loe him better ; 
 
 And I'll be his, and he'll be mine, 
 The bonie lad o' Galla water. 
 
 Altho' his daddie was nae laird, 
 And tho" I hae na meikle tocher ; 
 
 Yet rich in kindness, truest love, 
 We'll tent our flocks, by Galla water. 
 
 It ne'er was wealth, it ne'er was wealth, 
 That soft contentment, peace, or pleasure ; 
 
 The bands and bliss o' mutual love, 
 O that's the chiefest warld's treasure. 
 
 TASTE, OH ! TASTE THIS SPICY WINE. 
 Taste, oh ! taste this spicy wine, 
 
 Drain the sparkling cup, I pray ', 
 Does your heart in sadness pine ? 
 Drink, and sadness clears away. 
 
 Now may nimble troops of pleasure 
 
 Seal your hours in morrice light ; 
 Deck the day with fancy's treasure, 
 
 Bless -your dreams, and crown the night. 
 
 
MINSTREL. t73 
 
 THE STEERSMAN'S SONG. 
 
 When freshly blows the nothern gale 
 
 And under courses snug 1 \\ e fty ; 
 'When brighter breezes swell th? sail, 
 
 And royals promt I y sweep the sky ; 
 Longside the wheel, unwearied still 
 
 I stand, and as my watchful eye 
 Doth mark the needle's faithful thrill, 
 
 I think of her I love, and cry, 
 Port, my boy ! port. 
 
 When calms delay, or breezes blow 
 
 Right from the paint w e wish to steer ; 
 When by the wind close-haul'd we go, 
 
 And strive in vain the port to near ! 
 I think *t ; s thus the fates defer 
 
 My bliss with one that's faraway, 
 And while remembrance springs to her, 
 
 I watch the sails, and sighing-, say, 
 Thus, my boy '. thus. 
 
 But see the wind draw kindly aft, 
 
 All hands are up, the yards to square ; 
 And now the floating stu*n-sai!s waft 
 
 Our stately ship through waves and air. 
 Oh ! then I think that ytt for me 
 
 Some breeze uf fortune thus may spring ; 
 Some breeze to waft me, love to thee ! 
 
 And in that hope I smiling sing, 
 Steady, boy ! so. 
 Vol. I. S 
 
274 MINSTREL. 
 
 THADY MULLIGAN. 
 
 There was a lady liv'd at Leith, 
 
 A lady very stylish, man ; 
 And ytt, in spite of all her teeth, 
 She fell in love with an Irishman, 
 A nasty, ugly Irishman, 
 A wild tremendous Irishman, 
 A tearing, swearing, thumping, Lumping, ramping 
 roaring Irishman. 
 
 His face was no ways beautiful, 
 
 For with small-pox 'twas searr'd across, 
 And the shoulders of the ugly dog 
 Were almost quite a yard across, 
 O the lump of an Irishman ; 
 The whiskey drinking Irishman, 
 The great he rogue, with his wonderful brogue, tl 
 fighting, rioting Irishman. 
 
 One of his eyes was bottle-green, 
 
 And the other it was out my dear, 
 And the calves of his wicked looking legs 
 Were pjore than two feet about rrv dear. 
 O the icivat big Irishman, 
 The rattling, battling Irishman 
 - The stamping, ; ;i;.iping,swaggering, staggering, leal 
 eiing Bw#$h uf an Irishman. 
 
 He took so much of Lundy Foot, 
 That he used to snort and snuffle— O ; 
 
 And in shape and size the fellow's neck 
 Was as big as the neck of a buffalo. 
 
MINSTREL. 275 
 
 O the horrible Irishman, 
 The thundering, blundering Irishman, 
 !%e slashing, dashing, smashing, lashing, thrashing; 
 hashing Irishman. 
 
 His name was a terrible name indeed, 
 Being Timothy Thady Mulligan ; 
 And whenever he emptied his tumbler of punch, 
 He'd not rest till he fill'd it full again. 
 The boozing, bruising Irishman, 
 The toxieated Irishman, 
 he whiskey, friskey, rummy, gummy, brandy, no 
 dandy Irishman. 
 
 This was the lad the Lady lov'd, 
 
 Like all the girls of quality, 
 And he broke the skulls of the men at Leith, 
 Just by the way of jollity. 
 O the lathering Irishman, 
 The barbarous, savage Irishman, 
 he hearts of the maids, and the gentlemen's heads, 
 were bother'd I'm sure by this Irishman. 
 
 VDDY CARY'S FORTUNE, OR IRISH PRO- 
 MOTION, 
 was at the town of nate Clogheen 
 That Serjeant Snap met Paddy Cary, 
 claner boy w as never seen, 
 Brisk as a bee, light as a fairy ; 
 
275 MINSTREL. 
 
 His brawny shoulders four feet square, 
 
 His cheeks like thumping red potatoes, 
 His legs would make a chairman stare, 
 And Pat was lov'J by all the ladies ! 
 Old and young— wave and sad— deaf and dumb— du 
 or mad, 
 Waddling, twaddling, limping) squinting, 
 
 Light, brisk, and airy, 
 All the sweet faces, at LimVick races, 
 From Mullinavat to Maghevaft It, 
 At Paddy's beautiful name would melt.' 
 The sowls would cry, and Icok so shy, 
 Ogh ! cushlamacree did you nev.rsce 
 The jolly boy. the darling boy ! 
 The darling joy, the hulks' toy I 
 Nimble-foot: d. black-eyed, rosy- cheeked, curly-hea ' 
 ed Paddy Carv. 
 
 O sweet Paddy ! 
 Beautiful Paddy ! 
 Nate little, tight little", Paddy Cary. 1^ 
 
 His heart was made of Irish oak. 
 
 Yet soft as streams from sweet Killamey, 
 His tongue wastipt with a bit of the brogue, 
 
 But the deuce a bit at all of the blarney. 
 Now serjeant Snap, so sly and keen, 
 
 While Pat was coaxing duck-legged Mary, 
 A shilling slipt so neat and clean, 
 
 By the Powers he listed Paddy Cary ! 
 Tight and sound— strong and light— cheeks so rout) 
 eyes so bright, 
 
 "Whistling, humming, drinking, drumming, 
 Light, tight and airy, 
 All the sweet fie^. 
 
MINSTREL. 17' 
 
 "he sow Is wept loud, the crowd w as great, 
 When Saddling forth came Widow Leary, 
 "hough the was crippled in her gait, 
 Hu- brawny arms clasp'd Paddy Cary. 
 Ogh, Pat,*' she cried, » go buy the ring, 
 Her.'s cash galore, my darling honey ; 
 lyi Pat, * V< in- soul :*l"ll do that thing,** 
 And clapp'd his thumb upon her money I 
 imltt-.\t— sau>ag.-nose— Pat so sly— ogle throws, 
 Leering, titt'ring, jeering, fiitt'iing ; 
 Sweet widow Leary ! 
 
 All the sweet facts, &c. 
 
 hen Pat had thus his fortune made, 
 
 He pressed the lips of mistress Leary ; 
 
 .d mounting strait a large cockade, 
 
 In captain's boots struts Faddy Cary [ 
 
 1 grafc ful prais'd 1 ei shape, her back, 
 
 To others like a dromedary ; 
 
 reyes that seem'd tlnir strings to crack, 
 
 .Vere Cupid's darts to captain Cary .' 
 
 at and sweet— no alloy— all complete— love and for 
 
 Panting, roaring, soft adoring, 
 
 Dear widow Leary ; 
 
 All the swea faces at Limerick rrccs, 
 JwmMullittavattoMajgherafelt, ' 
 
 -h,. c, ■ n l 11oniolio » sigh and melt ; 
 (El r W J 8 f, cr >"' as the B"»ni struts by, 
 Ogh ! cush'amacree, thou art lost to me !» 
 
 JkT 1 y , bo >' lhe darli "& boy ! 
 
 The lady's toy, the widow's joy ! 
 
578 MINSTREL. 
 
 Long sword girted, neat short skirted, head cropt, 
 Whisker chopp'd, Captain Cary ! 
 
 O sweet Paddy ! 
 
 Beautiful Paddy ! 
 White feathered, boot leathered, Paddy Caryl 
 
 KATE KEARNEY. 
 Oh have you not heard of Kate Kearney, 
 She lives on the banks of Killarney, 
 
 From the glance of her eye, 
 
 Shun danger and fly, 
 For fatal's the glance of Kate Kearney. 
 
 Her eye is so modestly beaming, 
 
 You'll ne'er think of mischief she's dreaming : 
 
 Yet O ! I can tell, 
 
 How fatal's the spell, 
 That lurks in the eye of Kate Kearney. 
 
 Then should you e'er meet this Kate Kearney, 
 
 Who lives on the banks of Killarney ; 
 
 Beware of her smile, 
 
 For many a wile 
 Lies hid in the eye of Kate Kearney. 
 
 Her eyes so bewitchingly simple, 
 Oh there's mischief in every dimple ; 
 
 By her sigh's spicy gale, 
 
 Who e'er dares inhale, 
 Must die by the breath of Kate Kearney. 
 
 Mm Owen* 
 
MINSTREL. 273 
 
 MY TRIM BUILT WHERRY. 
 Then farewell, my trim built wherry, 
 
 Oars, and coat, and badge farewell ; 
 Nevermore at Chelsea ferry 
 
 Shall your Thomas take a spell. 
 
 But to hope and peace a stranger, 
 
 In the battle's heat I go ; 
 Where exposed to every danger, 
 
 Some friendly ball shall lay me low. 
 
 Then, mayhap, when homeward steering, 
 With the news my messmates come : 
 
 Even you, my story hearing, 
 With a sigh may cry poor Tom ! 
 
 C. Dibdin. 
 
 SHE LIVES IN THE VALLEY BELOW. 
 The broom bloom'd so fresh and so fair, 
 
 The lambkins were sporting around, 
 When I wander'd to breathe the soft air, 
 
 And by chance a rich treasure I found. 
 A lass sat beneath a green slnde, 
 
 For her smiles the whole world I'd forego. 
 As blooming as May was the maid, 
 
 And she lives in the valley below. 
 
 Her song struck my ear with surprise. 
 Her voice like the nightingale sweet, 
 
 But love took his seat in her eyes, 
 Where beauty and innocent meet. 
 
180 MINSTREL. 
 
 From that moment my heart w as her own, 
 
 For every w ish I'd forego, 
 She's beauteous as roses just blown. 
 
 And she lives in the valley below. 
 
 My cottage with woodbine o'er grown, 
 
 The sweet turtle-dove cooing round, 
 My flocks and my herds are my own, 
 
 My pastures with hawthorn are bound. 
 All my riches I'd lay at her fjt t, 
 
 If her heart in return she'll bestow ; 
 For no pastime can cheer my retreat, 
 
 While she lives in the valley below. 
 
 MAGGIE LAUDER. 
 Wha wadna be in love 
 
 Wi" bonny Maggie Lauder ? 
 A piper met her gaun to Fife, 
 
 And sp. ir'd what was't they ca'd her ? 
 Right scornfully she answerd him, 
 
 Begone ye halla:. shaker, 
 Jog on your gate, ye Bladderskate, 
 
 My name is Maggie Lauder. 
 Maggie, quoth he, and by my br.gs, 
 
 I'm fidging fain to see thee ; 
 Sit down by me, my bonny bird, 
 
 In troth I winna £t jer thee ; 
 For I'm a piper to my trade, 
 
 My name is Rob the Ranter ; 
 The lasses loup as they were deft 
 
 When I blow up my chanter. 
 
MINSTREL. *« 
 
 Piper, quoth Meg, hae ye your bags. 
 
 Or is your droue in order ? 
 If ye be Rob, I've heard of you. 
 
 Live ye upo 1 the border ? 
 The lasses a', baith far and near. 
 
 Have heard of Rob the Ranter; 
 I'll shake my fuct \\i* right good will 
 
 Gif ye'll blaw up your chancer. 
 
 Then to his bags he flew wi' speed, 
 
 About the drone he twisted ; 
 M< g up, and wallop'd o'er the green, 
 
 For b rawly could she frisk it : 
 W« 1 done, quoth he, play up, quoth she, 
 
 Wetl bobb'd, quoth Rob the Ranter, 
 'Tis worth my while to play indeed, 
 
 When I get sic a dancer. 
 
 Weel ha'e you play'd your part, quoth Meg, 
 
 Your cheeks are like the crimson : 
 There's nane in Scotland plays sae weel, 
 
 Since we lost Happy Simson. 
 I've liv'd in Fife, baith maid and wife, 
 
 These ten years and a quarter ; 
 Gin ye should come to Ensterfair, 
 
 Spier ye for Maggie Lauder. Burnt* 
 
 THE GIRL OF MY HEART. 
 I have parks, I have grounds; 
 I have deer, I have hounds, 
 
I MINSTREL. 
 
 And for sporting a neat little cottage ! 
 I have youth, I have wealth, 
 I have strength, I have health, 
 
 Yet I mope like a beau in his dotage. 
 What can I want ?— 'Tis the girl of my heart, 
 
 To share those treasures with me. 
 For had I the wealth which the Indies impart, 
 
 No pleasure would it give me, 
 Without the lovely girl of my heart, 
 The sweet, lovelv girl of my heart. 
 
 For had I the wealth, &c. 
 
 My domain far extends, 
 And sustain social friends, 
 
 Who makes music divinely enchanting ; 
 We have balls, we have plays, 
 We have routs, public days, 
 
 And yet still I find something is wanting ; 
 What should it be, but the girl of my heart, 
 
 To share those treasures with me ; 
 And had I the wealth which the Indies impart, 
 
 No pleasure would it give me» 
 Without the lovely girl of my heart, 
 The sweet lovely girl of my heart, 
 Then give me the girl of my heart, 
 For w hat is the wealth that the Indies impart, 
 Compar'd to the girl of my heart ; 
 Then give me the girl of my heart. 
 
 THE DUSTY MILLER. 
 Hey, the dusty miller 
 And his dusty coat, 
 
MINSTREL. 
 
 He will win a shilling: 
 Or he'll spend a groat. 
 
 Dusty was the coat. 
 Dusty was to colour, 
 
 Dusty was the kiss 
 That I got frae the miller. 
 
 Hey, the dusty miller, 
 
 And his dusty sack. 
 Leeze me on the calling 
 
 Fills the dusty peck : 
 
 Fills the dusty peck, 
 Brings the dusty siller ; 
 
 I wad gie my coattie 
 For the dusty miller. 
 
 THE CALEDONIAN MAID. 
 Say, have you seen my'Arrabell ? 
 
 The Caledonian maid, 
 Or heard the youths of Scotland tell. 
 
 Where Arrabell has stray 'd ? 
 The damsel is of angel mein, 
 
 With sad and downcast eyes ; 
 The shepherds call her sorrow's qu?en, 
 
 So pensively she sighs. 
 
 But why her sighs so sadly swell, 
 
 Or why her tears so flow : 
 In vain they press'd the lovely girl. 
 
 The innate cause to know. 
 
I MINSTREL. 
 
 E'er reason form'd her tender mind, 
 The virgin learn'd to love, 
 
 Compassion taught her to be kind, 
 Deceit she was above. 
 
 And had not war's terrific voice 
 
 Forbid the nuptial bands, 
 Ere now, had Sandy been her choice, 
 
 And Hymen join' d our hands : 
 But since the sword cf war is sheath'd, 
 
 And peace resumes her charms, 
 My every joy is now bequeathed 
 
 To Arrabella's arms. 
 
 MY NAME'S HONEST HARRY, O* 
 My name is Honest Harry, O, 
 Mary I will marry O ; 
 
 In spite of Nell, or Isabel, 
 I'll fellow my own vagary O. 
 With my rigdum jigdum airy O v 
 I love little .Mary O, 
 
 In spite of Ntll, or Isabel, 
 I'll fallow my own vagary O. 
 
 Smart she is and bonny O. 
 Sweet as sugarcandy O, 
 
 Fresh and gay, 
 
 As flow 'is in May, 
 And I'm her Jack a dandy O. 
 With my, &c. 
 
 
MINSTREL. 
 
 Soon to church I'll have her O, 
 Where w '11 wed together O ; 
 And that then done, 
 We'll have some fun, 
 Iu spite of « ind and weather O, 
 With my, &c 
 
 JOE THE SAILOR. 
 Columbia's sons at sea, 
 
 In battle al\\ ays br ve, 
 Strike to no pow *r d'ye see, 
 That ever plough'd the wave. 
 Fal,lal, la! 
 
 But \\ h n we're not afloat, 
 Tis quite another thing ; 
 
 "We strike to petticoat, 
 
 Get groggy, dance and sing. 
 Fal, lal. 
 
 There's Portsmouth Polly, she, 
 
 When fore'd to go ashore, 
 Vow'd constancy to me, 
 
 And sometimes twenty more, 
 lal, lal. " 
 
 Hut give poor Poll her due , 
 
 For truth's a precious thing, 
 Wjth none but sailors true 
 Would the drink grog and sing. 
 Fal, lak 
 
MINSTREL. 
 
 With Nancy deep in love, 
 
 I once to sea did go ; 
 Ketunrd, she cry'd, •• By Jove! 
 
 " I'm married, dearest Joe. " 
 Fal, lal. 
 
 Great guns I scarce could hold, 
 To find that I was flung ; 
 
 But Nancy prov'd a scold, 
 
 Then I got drunk, and sung 
 si ' Fal, lal. 
 
 At length I did comply, 
 And made a rib of Sue ; 
 
 What tho' she'd but one eye ? 
 It pierced my heart like two. 
 Fal. lal. 
 
 And now I take my glass, 
 Drink America no king ; 
 
 Content with my old lass, 
 Get groggy, dance, and sing. 
 Fal, lal. 
 
 BIRKS OF INVERMAY. 
 
 The smiling mom, the breathing spring, 
 Invite the tuneful birds to sing ; 
 And while they warble from each spray, 
 Love melts the universal lay ; 
 
MINSTREL. 
 
 Let us, Amanda, timely wise, 
 Like them improve the hour th;>t flin, 
 Ami in soft raptures w ast the day 
 Among the birks of Invermay. 
 
 For soon the winter of the year 
 And age, life's winter, will appear ; 
 At this thy lively bloom will fade, 
 As that w ill strip the verdant shade ; 
 Our taste of pleasure then is o'er, 
 The feather'd songsters please no more ; 
 And when they droop and we decay, 
 Adieu the birks of Invermay. 
 
 The lav'roeks now and lintwhites sing, 
 The rocks around wi' echoes ring, 
 The mavies and the blackbird vie 
 In tunefu' strains to glad the day ; 
 The woods now wear their summer suits, 
 To mirth a' nature now invites ; 
 Let us be blithsome then, and gay, 
 Among the birks of Inveunay. 
 
 Behold the hills and vales around 
 With lowing herds and flocks abound ; 
 The wanton kids and frisking lambs 
 Gambol and dance about their dams ; 
 The busy bees with humming noise, 
 And a' the reptile kind rt joice ; • 
 I.t t us, like them, then siiv^ and play 
 About the birks of Invermay. 
 
I MINSTREL. 
 
 Hark how the waters, as they fa', 
 Loudly my love to gladness cu' ; 
 The wanton waves sport in the beams, 
 
 And fishes play thoughout the streams ; 
 The ciix-iing sun dots now advance, 
 And all the planets rcu. d him dance ; 
 Let us as jovial be as they 
 Amang the birks of Inveraray. 
 
 THE ~>YOOD ROBIN*. 
 
 Stay, sweet enchanter of the g.-ove. 
 Leave not so soon thy native tree ; 
 
 O, warble still those notes cf love, 
 
 While my fond heart resounds to thee. 
 
 O. warble still those notes cf love, 
 
 "While my fond heart responds to thee. 
 
 Rest thy soft bosom on the S] 
 
 Till chilly autumn frowns severe ; 
 
 Then charm me with thy parting lay, 
 And I will answer w ith a trar. 
 
 Then charm me v. ith thy parting lay, 
 And I will answer with a tear. 
 
 But soon as spring enrich'd with flowers 
 Comes dancing o'er the new-divst plain ; 
 
 Return and cheer thy natal bow'rs, 
 My Robin, with those notes again. 
 
 Return, and cheer thy natal bow'rs. 
 My Robin, with those notei again 
 
MINSTREL. 283 
 
 PUSH ALONG, KEEP MOVING. 
 I am a man of learning and the ladies call me pretty, 
 Many years ago, I kept a school in famous Boston city; 
 I taught the arts and sciences, tho' somewhat fond of 
 
 roving, 
 And the science of my motto was, to push along, keep 
 
 moving. 
 
 Spoke?i.—Yes, I kept a school, and taught little boys to 
 say ab's eb's ub's lud's and mud's, and there we used to 
 stick fast 'till I'd tickle them with my rattan, to make 
 them push along, push along, push along keep moving. 
 
 I had a wife, and she was young to think of wedlock's 
 
 toys, 
 She would not let me keep a school, because I whipt 
 
 the boy3 ; 
 So a doctor shop I then set up, my talents thus im- 
 proving, 
 But a doctor shop would never do, to push along 
 keep moving. 
 Spoken.—It was 'oh dear sir, oh dear me:' well good 
 woman what's the matter ? ' Why sir my husband has 
 been to one of those Lafayette dinners, and has got the 
 leg of a turkey down his throat— that's very serious in- 
 leed— 'yes, and I ordered Polly to scour the tongs to get 
 t out;' Well did she get it out ? 'No sir, I want you to 
 get it out,— for if you don't, he never will be able to 
 >ush along, &c\ 
 
 \ doctor shop I soon gave up, 'twas every body's cry, 
 3h don't you take that fellow's stuff,for if you do you'll 
 
 die ; 
 Vol. [. T 
 
290 MINSTREL. 
 
 So a baker 'a shop I then set up, my talents thus improv- 
 ing, 
 
 But a baker shop would never do, to push along keep 
 moving. 
 
 Spoken.— 6 Will you please to let mc have a loaf oi 
 bread?' Yes my little man, here it is-—' bless me sir,your 
 bread is very light !' then you will have the less to carry 
 —'here is the money'— come back you little scoundrel, 
 here is not enough—' then you will have the hss to 
 count'— ah you are up to me this time, but I will b^ 
 down to you the next.—' Will you please to let me have 
 a three cent loaf of bread, and as soon as my husband 
 comes home, I will pay you all off, I owe you?' No 
 good woman, I can't, for if I was to, I never should 
 be able to push along, ike. 
 
 In vain I thought to get my bread by baking it for 
 others, 
 
 And trusting it all out again to little children's mothera; 
 
 So a grocery shop I then set up, my talents thus im- 
 proving, 
 
 But a grocery shop would never do, to push along 
 keep moving. 
 
 Spoke?}.— ■« I say mister, will you be after letting me 
 have a pint of whiskey, and may the devil fly away 
 with the roof of my jacket if I don't pay you all off I 
 owe you on Saturday night?' You won't forget will 
 you ?'— No, I'll be blam'd if I do— well here it is. 
 
 Stuttering.—' Will you please to let my mother Iiavi 
 a pennywoilh of pepper, and wrap it up in a piece of 
 paper ?' Let your mother have a pennyworth of pep- 
 per, and wrap i< up m a piece of paper ?'— Here take 
 it and elcar out, 
 
 i 
 
MINSTREL. 291 
 
 tt length gtew fond of gin, my store was dis- 
 appearing, 
 'Till death at last soon put an end, ami then I went a 
 
 roving. 
 
 sy, ,A, »j.— ' Then I came down to this great city and 
 found ever) body w;is trying to do what I was, that is 
 to push along, push along, push along, keen moving. 
 
 SWEETS OF AFFECTION. 
 When 1 fust saw the youth who to me came a wooing, 
 Down by yon banks where the waves gently flow, 
 1'was tlu re the soft language my courage subduing, 
 First taughi me the sweets of affection to know. 
 Twas there he sang gaily; my fancy entrancing, 
 That I scarcely be-liov'd that the night was advancing, 
 The moon beam'd so gay, the wave s' tops were dancing, 
 Down by yon banks where the waves gently flow. 
 Down by yon banks, &c. 
 
 I strove not to listen, but how could I deceive him, 
 [Down by yon banks where the waves gently flow; 
 lie swore he would die if I did not believe him, 
 And this is no time to kill sailors you know, 
 ^t parting he look'd, and heav'd such a sigh, too, 
 
 illy believe he'd a tear in his eye, too ; 
 'Mk ( anforgi t it, I can't say that I do, 
 
 I auks where tin rj How, 
 
 Down by ybn bank* 
 
292 MINSTREL. 
 
 I SAW THY FORM IN YOUTHFUL PRIME. 
 
 I saw thy form in youthful prime, 
 
 Nor thought that pale decay 
 Would steal before the steps of time, 
 
 And waste its bloom away, Mary ! 
 
 Yet still thy features wore that light, 
 
 Which fleet not with the breath ; 
 And life ne'er look-d more purely bright 
 
 Than in thy smile of death, Mary ! 
 
 As streams that ran o'er golden mines, 
 
 With honest murmur glide, 
 Nor seeai to know the wealth that shines 
 
 Within their gentle tide, Mary ! 
 
 So, reiFd beneath a simple guise, 
 
 Thy radiant genius shone, 
 And that which charm'd all other eyes, 
 
 Seem'd worthless in thy own, Mary ! 
 
 If souls could always dwell above, 
 Thou ne'er had'st left thy sphere ; 
 
 Or could we keep the souls we love, 
 We ne'er had lost thee here, Mary ! 
 
 Though many a gifted mind we meet, 
 Though fairtst forms we see, 
 
 To live with them is far less sweet* 
 Than to remember thee, Mury ! 
 
 
MINSTREL, 293 
 
 BEHAVE YOURSEL' BEFORE FOLK. 
 
 Air— " Good morroxvto your night cap.' 1 '' 
 Behave yoursel* before folk, 
 Behave yoursel* before folk, 
 And dinna be sae rude to me, 
 
 As kiss me sae before folk. 
 
 It wad nae gi"e me meikle pain, 
 Gin we were seen and heard by nane, 
 To tak' a kiss, or grant you ane ; 
 
 But gudsake ! not before folk, 
 
 Behave yoursel* before folk, 
 
 Behave yours« -1' before folk, 
 Whate'er you do when outo' view, 
 
 Be cautious ay' before folk. 
 
 Consider, lad, how folk will erack, 
 And what a gn at affair they'll mak', 
 O' naething but a simple smack, 
 
 That's gi'en or ta'en before folk ; 
 
 Behave yoursel' before folk, 
 
 Behave yoursel' before folk, 
 Nor gi'e the tongue o' ould and young:, 
 
 Occasion to come o'er folk, 
 
 lU nae through hatred o' a kiss, 
 That I sae plainly tell you this, 
 But, losh ! I tak' it sair amiss, 
 
 To be sae teaz'd before folk, 
 
 Behave yoursel' before folk, 
 
 Behave younel' before folk, 
 When we're alane, ye may tak' ane, 
 
 But feint a ane before folk. 
 
9M MINSTREL. 
 
 I'm sure \vi' you I've been as free, 
 As ony mockst lass should be ; 
 But yet it does na do to see 
 
 Sic freedom used before folk, 
 
 Behave yoursel' before folk, 
 
 Behave yoursel' before folk. 
 I'll ne'r submit again to it— 
 
 So mind you that— before folk. 
 Ye tell me that my face is fair ; 
 It may be sac— I dinna care- 
 But ne'er again gar't blush sae sair 
 
 As ye hae done before folk, 
 
 Behave yoursel' before folk, 
 
 Behave yoursel' before folk ; 
 Nor heat my cheeks wi' your mad freaks, 
 
 But ay be douce before folk. 
 Ye tell me that my lips are sweet ; 
 Sic talcs, I doubt, are a' deceit, 
 At ony rate it's hardly meet 
 
 To prie their sweets before folk, 
 
 Behave yoursel' before folk 
 
 Behave yoursel' before folk, 
 Gin that's the case, there's time and place, 
 
 But surely na before folk. 
 But gin you really do insist, 
 That I should suffer to be kiss'd, 
 Gae, get a licence frae the priest, 
 
 And mak' me yours before folk, 
 
 Behave yoursel' before folk, 
 
 Behave yoursel' before folk ; 
 And when we'ere ane, baith flesh nnJ bane. 
 
 Ye may tak* ten- before folk. Rogt 
 
MI\> ! 
 
 TYPOGRAPHICAL SOI 
 
 Our Country's like a PriAting 
 
 And I will tell you why ; 
 A royal botch controll'd it once, 
 
 Who threw it all in/;/. 
 But soon we ousted such a donee, 
 And all his ratting race- 
 Drove in swarms, 
 Beat theuforms, 
 Or lock'd them up in chase. 
 
 Ihv.ii free-barn drtiit* took the rule, 
 
 And soon a work began, 
 By Nature's glorious Author wrote, 
 * The Charter'd Rights of Man." 
 Who cast3 a slur on text or note, 
 True honour never felt, 
 Let the brute 
 Feelthe/ort, 
 And 2 raw/ him like a pelt. 
 
 While honest critics disagree, 
 
 In faults they think they find, 
 Let half-way workman stand aloof, 
 
 For they are worse than blind. 
 Since Washington has read the proof, 
 And Franklin the revise, 
 Every line 
 Is divine, 
 Recorded in the :!. 
 
MINSTREL. 
 
 The wretch who batters such a form, 
 
 Shall have a traitor's due, 
 And find, when sununon'd to the bar, 
 
 The gallows stands in view. 
 Then let the coffin be his car, 
 The sheeps-foot ring his knell, 
 Devils swarm 
 Round his form, 
 And throw him into hell. 
 
 GAILY SOUNDS THE CASTANET. 
 
 Gaily sounds the Castanet, 
 Beating time to bounding feet, 
 
 When, after daylight's golden set, 
 Maids and youths by moonlight meet. 
 
 Oh ! then, how sweet to move 
 
 Thro' all that maze of mirth, 
 Lighted by those eyes we love, 
 
 Beyond all eyes on earth. 
 
 Then the joyous banquet spread 
 On the cool and fragrant ground, 
 
 With night's bright eye-beams o'er head j 
 And still brighter sparkling round* 
 
 Oh ! then, how sweet to say 
 
 Into the lov'd one's ear, 
 Thoughts reserv'd through many a day, 
 
 To be thus whisper'd there. 
 
MINSTREL. 297 
 
 When the dance and feast arc- done. 
 
 Arm and arm as home we stray, 
 How sweet to see the dawning sun 
 
 O'er her cheek's warm blushes play. 
 
 Then, then the farewell kiss, 
 
 And words whose parting tone 
 Lingers still in dreams of bliss 
 
 That haunt young hearts alone. T.Moore. 
 
 LET ERIN REMEMBER. 
 
 Let Erin remember the days of old, 
 
 Ere faithless sons betray 'd her; 
 When Malachi wore the collar of gold, 
 
 Which he won from her proud invader ; 
 When her king with standard of green unfurlM, 
 
 Led the Red Branch knights to danger, 
 Ere the emerald gem of the western world 
 
 Was set in the crown of a stranger. 
 
 On Lough-Neagh's bank, as the fisherman strays, 
 
 When the clear cold eve r s declining, 
 He sees the round towers of other days 
 
 In the wave beneath him shining ! 
 Thus shall memory often, in dreams sublime, 
 
 Catch a glimpse of the days that are over ; 
 Thus sighing, look through the wave of time, 
 
 For the long faded glories they cover. 
 
 T. Moore. 
 
MINSTREL. 
 
 OH! BREATHE NOT HIS NAME, 
 
 Oh ! breathe not his name, let it sleep in the shade. 
 Where cold and unhonour'd his relics arc laid ; 
 Sad, silent, and dark, be the tears that we shed, 
 As the night-dew that falls on the grass o'er his head. 
 
 But the night-dew that falls, tho* in silence it weeps, 
 Shall brighten with verdure the grave where he sleep9 5 
 And the tear that we shed, though in secret it rolls, 
 Shall long keep his memory green in our souls. 
 
 T« Moore, 
 
 'TIS THE LAST ROSE OF SUMMER. 
 
 5 Tis the last rose of summer, left blooming alone ; 
 All her lovely companions are faded and gone ; 
 No flower of her kindred, no rose-bud is nigh. 
 To reflect back her blushes or give sigh for sigh ! 
 
 I'll not leave thee, thou lone one ! to pine on the stem 
 Since the lovely are sleeping, go, sleep thou with them; 
 Thus kindly I scatter thy leaves o'er thy bed, 
 Where thy mates of the garden, lie scentless and dead 
 
 So soon may I follow, when friendships decay, 
 And from love's shining circle, the gems drop away! 
 When true hearts lie wither'd , and fond ones are flown^. 
 Oh ! who would inhabit this bleak world alone ? 
 
 T. Moore 
 
MINSTREL. 
 
 BEWARE O' BONTE ANN 
 
 i . gallants bright, I rede yen 
 
 Beware o' bonie Ann ; 
 Her comely face sac fu* cr grac* , 
 
 Your heart she will trepan. 
 H. r eon sae bright, like stars by night, 
 
 Her skin is like the swan ; 
 Sae j imply lae'd her genty waist, 
 
 That sweetly she might span. 
 
 Youth, grace nnd love, attendant move, 
 
 And pleasure leads the van; 
 In a' their charms, and conquering arms, 
 Th y wait uii bonie Ann. 
 
 : iy chain the hands, 
 Hut love enslaves the man ; 
 
 Hants braw, I rede you a,' 
 BeWare o' bonie Ann. 
 
 MY XANTE'S AW A. 
 \ T ow iii her green mantle blithe nature arrays, 
 \nd listens the lambkins that bleat o'er the braes, 
 kVhile birds warble welcome in ilka green shaw ; 
 ut to me its delightkss— my N'anie's awa. 
 
 The snaw-drap and primrose our woodlands adorn, 
 Vnd Toilets bathe in the weet o 1 the morn ; 
 They pain my sad bosom, sao sweetly they bfarw, 
 fhey m''v 
 
300 MINSTREL. 
 
 Thou lav'rock that springs frae the dews of the lawn, 
 The shepherds to warn o' the grey-breaking dawn ; 
 And thou, mellow mavis, that hails the night fa', 
 Give over for pity— for Nanie's awa. 
 Come autumn sae pensive, in yellow and grey, 
 And soothe me wi' tidings o' nature's decay ; 
 The dark, dreary winter, and wild-driving snaw, 
 Alane can delight me— now Nanie's awa. 
 
 I SAW FROM THE BEACH- 
 I saw from the beach, when the morning was shining, 
 
 A bark o'er the waters move gloriously on ; 
 I came when the sun o'er that beach was declining— 
 
 The bark was still there, but the waters were gone ! 
 Ah ! such is the fate of our life's early promise, 
 
 So passing the springtide of joy we have known : 
 Each wave that we danc'd on at morning ebbs from us, 
 
 And leave us, at eve, on the bleak shore alone I 
 
 Ne'er tell me of glories serenely adorning 
 
 The close of our day, the calm eve of our night ; 
 Give me back, give me back, the wild freshness of 
 morning, 
 Her clouds and her tears are worth evening's best 
 light. 
 Oh, who would not welcome that moment's returning, 
 When passion first wak'd a new life though his 
 frame ; 
 And his soul, like the wood, that grows precious 
 burning 
 Gave out all its sweets to love's exquisite flame ! 
 
 T. Moor* 
 
MINSTREL. SOI 
 
 BLOW HIGH BLOW LOW. 
 Blow high, blow low, let tempests tear 
 
 The main-mast by the board, 
 My heart with thoughts of thee, ray dear, 
 
 And love well stor'd, 
 Shall brave all dangers, scorn all fear, 
 
 The roaring winds, the raging sea, 
 In hopes on shore to be once niore 
 
 Safe moor'd with thee. 
 
 Aloft, while mountains high we go, 
 The whistling wind that scud along, 
 
 And the surge roaring from below, 
 Shall my signal be to think on thee, 
 
 And this shall be my song- 
 Blow high, blow low, &c. 
 
 And on that night when all the crew 
 
 The mem'ry of their former lives, 
 O'er flowing cans of flip renew , 
 
 And drink their sweethearts and their wives, 
 I'll heave a sigh and think on thee ; 
 
 And as t lie ship rolls through the sea, 
 The burden of my song shall be — 
 
 Blow high, blow low, &c. Dibdin 
 
 JEAX AXDERSON, MY JO. 
 When nature first began, Jean, 
 
 To try her eannie hand, 
 It's true she first made man, Jean, 
 
 And fcatf him great command ; 
 
MINSTREL, 
 
 But nat thing wad content him, J< 
 
 Tlio' king o' a' below, 
 Till heaven in pity sent him, Jean, 
 
 "What maist he wish't— a jo ! 
 
 Tho' some may say I'm auld, Jean, 
 
 An' say the same o' thee, 
 Ne'er fret to hear it tauld, Jean, 
 
 You stiil look young to me : 
 An' vveel I mind the day, Jean, 
 
 Your breast was white as snow, 
 An' waist saejimp,ane might it span,— 
 
 Jean Anderson, my jo ! 
 
 Our bonny bairns' bairns, Jean, 
 
 WF rapture do I see, 
 Come toddlin' to the fireside, 
 
 Or sit upon my knee : 
 If there is pleasure here, Jean, 
 
 Or happiness below, 
 This surely maun be likest it, 
 
 Jean A nderson , my j o ! 
 
 Though age has sillar'd owrc my pow, 
 Sin' we were first acquaint, 
 
 An' changed my glossy raven lock, 
 It's left us still content ; 
 
 An' eld ne'er comes alane, Jean, 
 But aft brings many a wo, 
 
 Yet we've nae cause for sic comp] 
 Jean Anderson, my i< ' 
 
Innocent we've spent uia d 
 
 ArT pleasant looks ike past ; 
 Nae anxious thoughts alarm us, 
 
 W< 're eheerfu' to the last : 
 Till death knock at our door, Jean, 
 
 And warn us baith to go, 
 Contented we will live an 1 love, 
 
 Jean Anderson, my jo ! 
 
 It's now a lang, lang time, Jean, 
 
 Sin' you an' I begun 
 To spraehel up life's hill, Jean, 
 
 Our race is nearly run ; 
 We baith hac done our best, Jean, 
 
 Our sun is wearin' low ; 
 Sae let us quietly sink to ret, 
 
 Jean Anderson, my jo ! Burnt, 
 
 WHAT A BEAUTY I DID GROW, 
 When I was a little boy, 
 
 Some fifteen years ago, 
 I was the pride of mammy 's heart, 
 
 Lord she made me quite a show. 
 
 Such a beauty I did grow, 
 
 I'd red straight hijir and goggle ey&» 
 And such a rogueish leu ; 
 fl it nose, and mouth 
 rfctl ;• .'.'h'd from cai to car 
 
304 MINSTREL. 
 
 My mammy doted on me, 
 And when my mouth she'd fill, 
 
 For fear she r d spoil it with a spoon, 
 She fed me with a quill. 
 
 Such a beauty, &c. 
 
 And when that I eould run alone, 
 
 Stock still I never stood ; 
 The ducks were my companions, 
 
 As I waddled through the mud. 
 Such a beauty, &c. 
 Then I learned to be musical, 
 
 And got of songs so pat, 
 I could grunt bass like any pig, 
 
 Mew treble like a cat. 
 
 Snch a beauty, &c. 
 
 Then I went to a dancing school, 
 
 For to be finish'd there, 
 And they said I danced a minuet 
 
 As graceful as a bear. 
 
 Such a beauty, &c. 
 
 With a mountebank a candidate, 
 I beat them all quite hollow, 
 
 And I won this pretty gold laced hat 
 By grinning through a collar. 
 Such a beauty, &c. 
 
 My name is Tommy Herring, 
 
 As every body knows, 
 And they stick me in the barley fields, 
 
 To frighten off the crows. 
 
 Such a beauty, &c. 
 
TREL. 
 
 ST. PATRICK WAS A GENTLEMAN. 
 
 St. Patrick was a getleman, and came from decent pco- 
 
 pli . 
 InDublin town he built a church and on it put a steeple; 
 Ittsfather was a Wollaglian,and his mother anO'Grady, 
 Mis auni she was a Kinaghan, and his wife a widow 
 Brady. 
 Toorallco tooralloo, what a glorious man our St. was, 
 Tooraloo, tooralloo, O whack fal de lal, d< lal, ccc. 
 
 Och ! Antrim hills are mig-hty high and so's the hill of 
 
 Howth too ; 
 Put we all do know a mountain that is higher than 
 
 tin ni both too ; * 
 
 on the top of that high mount, St. Patrick 
 
 preach'd a sermon, 
 He drove the frogs into the bogs, and banished all the 
 
 V'.rinin. 
 
 Toollaroo, &c. 
 
 No wornl- v that we Irish lads, then, are so blythe and 
 frisk 
 
 St, Patrick was the very man that taught us to drink 
 whiskey ; 
 
 Och : to be sure, he liad the knack and understood dis- 
 tilling-, 
 
 For his mother kept a shebeen shop, near the town of 
 1 illtii. 
 
Ml MINSTREL 
 
 BARNEY BODK 
 Barney Bodkin broke his nose, 
 
 Want of money makes us sad, 
 "Without feet we can't have toes, 
 
 Crazy folks are always mad. 
 A farthing rush-light's very small, 
 
 Doctors wear large bushy wigs, 
 
 One that's dumb can never bawl, 
 
 Pickled pork is made of pigs. 
 
 Hi turn tweedle tweedle del, 
 A yard of pudding's not an ell, 
 Not forgetting ti'th'rum ti, 
 A taylor's goose can never By. 
 
 Patriot's say they'll mend the nation, 
 
 Pigeons will make pretty pies, 
 Lawyers deal in botheration, 
 
 A gun's too big for shooting Biea, 
 Irish whiskey's very good, 
 
 Lundy-foot will make you sneeze, 
 Wig-blocks they are made of wood, 
 
 Pepper's good with butter'd peas. 
 Ri turn, &c. 
 Times will grow better, never fear, 
 
 Old maids in scandal take delight, 
 Candles now are very dear, 
 
 Roguery must come to light. 
 Lim'rick gloves an't made for pigs, 
 
 Very seldom asses die, 
 Plumb-pudding must be stuff 'd wi'.h figs,. 
 
 Kilwonh mountain's very high. 
 Ri turn, &e 
 
MINSTREL. 3< >7 
 
 Poppet shows young folks amuse, 
 
 Christmas cornea but once a year, 
 Wooden lers wear out no shoes, 
 
 Seven-pence a quart is beer, 
 Taylors cabbage all your cloth, 
 
 Shin* of beet' are very tough, 
 Flummery is just like froth, 
 
 Mrs. Clarke is up to snuff. 
 
 Ri turn, &c. 
 
 We shall live until we die, 
 
 Barney have the girls alone, 
 Catsup an*t good with apple-pie, 
 
 Church Maiden's hearts are made of stone, 
 Jolly tan are fond of fun, 
 
 For Liberty we'll nobly shout, 
 And now, good folks, my song is done, 
 
 Nobody knows what 'twas about. 
 Hi turn, ike. 
 
 THE LAST BUGLE. 
 Hark ! the muffled drum sounds the last march of the 
 
 brave, 
 
 The soldier retreats to his quarters, the grave, 
 under Death, whom lie o\\ ns his Commander in chief; 
 N T o more hell turn out with tin- ready lvlief, 
 Hut in spite of Death's terrors or hostile alarms, 
 When he hears the last bugle, 
 When he ht an the last bugle, he'll stand to his arms. 
 
 
308 MINSTREL. 
 
 Farewell brother soldier, in peace raa> thou rest, 
 
 And light lie the turf on each veteran breast, 
 
 Until that review when the souls of the brave, 
 
 Shall behold the Chief Ensign, fair Mercy's flag wave; 
 
 Then, freed from death's terrors and hostile alarms, 
 
 When we hear the last Bugle, 
 
 When we hear the last Bugle, we'll stand to our arms. 
 
 THE BUCKET. 
 
 How dear to this heart are the scenes of my childhood, 
 
 When fond recollection recals them to view, 
 The orchard, the meadow, the deep tangled wildu cod^ 
 
 And ev'ry lov'd spot which my infancy knew ; 
 The wide spreading pond, and the mill which stood 
 by it, 
 
 The bridge, and the rock where the cataract fell, 
 The cot of my father, the dairy house nigh it, 
 
 And e'en the rude bucket which hung in the vail, 
 The old oaken bucket— the iron bound bucket — 
 
 The moss covered bucket, which hung in the welty 
 
 That moss covered vessel I hail as a treasure, 
 
 For often at noon when returned from the field, 
 T round it the source of an exquisite pleasure, 
 
 The purest and sweetest that nature can yield. 
 How ardent I seized it, with hands that were glowii 
 
 And quick to the white pebbled bottom it f II, 
 Then soon, with the emblem of truth over!, 
 
 And dripping with coolness, it rose from tl 
 rhe old oaken bucket— the iron-hound bu 
 
Mil 
 
 1, it inclined to my lips ; 
 Not a full blushing goblet could tempt me to h ar« it, 
 
 Though iill'd witli the nectar that .Jupiter sips. 
 And now, far remoVd from the lov'd situation, 
 
 The i ar of regret will intrusively swell, 
 As laiu\ n visits my Father's plantation) 
 
 And sighs fur the bucket which hangs in his well, 
 The old oaken bueket— the iron-bound bucket — 
 
 The moss covered bucket which hangs in his weli 
 Woodworth, 
 
 BEHOLD l\ HIS SOFT. 
 Behold ! in his sofl i xpresii e face, 
 
 Hi r \\< II known fe tuns here I see, 
 \ml here her gentle smile can trace, 
 
 Which once so sweetly beam'd on me ; 
 
 Ah ! Rosalvin !— 
 Vh ! Rosalie! that death should sever, 
 Two hearts that could have lov'd for ever. 
 
 {ere could I fancy I beheld 
 
 In thee, sweet lv.>y, her heavenly charms ; 
 fould think, by hope and love impcllM, 
 
 I clasp'd her offspring in my arms. 
 
 My child ! my child ! 
 ly child, like this, was lovely ev< r, 
 till death decreed our heai r 
 
 ArnoUl 
 
310 MINSTREL 
 
 LAWRENCE THE BRAVE. 
 The streamers were flying, the canvass was spreading, 
 
 The banner of war floated high in the air, 
 The gale on its pinions to combat was speeding, 
 
 The chief of Columbia, her glory in war ; 
 Undaunted he stood, as the billows that roll'd 
 
 Round the barge that he guided through ocean's 
 blue wave, 
 His helmet was honour, and fame nerv'd his soul, 
 
 To gather a prize worthy Lawrence the brave. 
 
 Columbia's bright genius around him was hov'ring, 
 
 To shield her lov'd son 'mid the carnage below, 
 And fate from the impulse of valor recovying, 
 
 Seized a javelin of death and directed the blow ; 
 Ah ! sad was the hour, when she saw from on high, \ 
 
 The cross of proud Albion triumphantly uave, 
 And bitter the moment she view'd with a sigh, 
 
 On the deck, pale and lifeless, laid Lawrence the 
 brave. 
 
 Ah ! me, she exclaim'd, has my hero descended, 
 
 From glory's meridian, the summit of fame, 
 Shall he, who while dying, his country defended, 
 
 Like his form be forgotten, forgotten his name ? 
 Ah ! no, for the tears that his kindred have shed, 
 
 Shall water the laurel that blooms on his grave.— 
 She ceas'd— and lamenting the hero who bled, 
 
 Shed the tear drop of sorrow IbrLawrence the brar< 
 
MINSTREL. 511 
 
 ROLL DRUMS MERRILY. 
 When I was an infant, gossips would say, 
 I'd when older 
 Be a soldier, 
 RattM and toys I'd throw 'era away, 
 Unless a gun or a subre. 
 When a younker up I grew, 
 I saw one day a grand review ; 
 Colours flying 
 Set me dying, 
 To embark in a life so new. 
 Roll drums merrily march away, 
 
 Soldier's glory lives in story. 
 His laurels are green when his locks are grey, 
 Then hey for the life of a soldier. 
 
 Listed, to battle I march'd along, 
 Courting danger, 
 Fear a stranger, 
 The cannon beat time to the trumpet's song, 
 And made my heart a hero'3. 
 'Charge,' the gallant leaders cry, 
 On like lions then we fly ; 
 Blood and thunder 
 Foes knock under, 
 Then huzza for a victor)-. 
 
 Roll drums, &c. 
 Who so merry as we in camp, 
 Battle over 
 Live in clover, 
 Care and his cronies are forced to tramp, 
 And all is social pleasure. 
 
312 MINSTREL. 
 
 Then \\>. laugh, we quaff, \ 
 Time goes gaily on the wing, 
 
 Smiles of beauty 
 
 Sweeten duty, 
 And each private is a king. 
 
 Roll drums, See 
 
 ROBIX ADAIR. 
 What's this dull town to me, 
 
 Robin's not near. 
 What was't I wish'd to see ? 
 
 What wish'd to hear? 
 Where's all the joy and mirth 
 Made this town a heaven on earth I 
 Oh I they're all fled with thee, 
 
 Robin Adair. 
 
 What made th' assembly shine ? 
 
 Robin Adair. 
 What made the ball so tine ? 
 
 Robin was there. 
 What,— when the play was o'er, 
 What made my heart so lore ? 
 Oh ! it was parting with 
 
 Robin Adair. 
 
 But now thou'rt cold to me, 
 
 Robin Adair. 
 Eut now thou'rt cold to me, 
 
 Robin Adair. 
 
Vet he i . 
 
 Still in my heart shall dwell. 
 
 Oh ! 1 can neV i I 
 
 Robin Adair. 
 
 THE HANKS OF CHAMPLAIN. 
 'Twas autumn, and round me the Laws m re descend- 
 
 And lonely the Wood-pecker peck'd on the tree ; 
 
 Whilst thousands their freedom and rights were de- 
 fending. 
 
 The din of their arms sounded dismal to me ; 
 For Sandy, my love, was engaged in the action ; 
 Without him I valued the world not a traction ; 
 His death would have ended my life in distraction, 
 
 As lonely I stray'd on the banks of Champlain. 
 
 Then turning to list to the cannon's loud thunder, 
 My elbow I lean'd on a rock near the shore; 
 
 The sounds nearly parted my heart-strings usunder, 
 I thought I should see my dear shepherd no more ; 
 
 But soon an express all my sorrows suspended, 
 
 My thanks to the Father of mercies ascended ; 
 
 My shepherd was safe and my country defended 
 By freedom's brave sons on the banks of Champlain. 
 
 I wip'd from my eyes the big tear that had started, 
 \nd hastened the news to my parents to bear, 
 
 Who sigh'd for the loss of relations dc part* d, 
 And v ings that banish*d their care, 
 
314 MINSTREL. 
 
 The cannon's ceas'd roaring, the drums still were beat- 
 ing; 
 
 The foes of our country far north were retreating; 
 The neighbouring damsels, each other were greeting 
 With songs of delight on the banks of Champlain. 
 
 Our squadron triumphant, our army victorious, 
 With laurels unfaded, our Spartan's returned ; 
 
 My eyes never dwelt on a scene half so glorious ; 
 My heart with such rapture before never burn'd ; 
 
 But Sandy, my darling, that moment appealing ; 
 
 His presence to every countenance cheering, 
 
 Was renderd to me more doubly endearing 
 By the feats he performed on the banks of Cham- 
 plain. 
 
 But should smiling peace, with her blessings and trea- 
 sures, 
 
 Soon visit the plains of Columbia again, 
 What pen can describe the enrapturing pleasures, 
 
 That I shall experience through life with my swain; 
 For then no wild savage will come to alarm us, 
 Nor worse, British foes send their minions to harm us, 
 But nature and art will continue to charm us, 
 
 Whilst happy we live on the banks of Champlain. 
 
 
 HARK, THE VESPER HYMN IS STEALING 
 Hark, the vesper hymn is stealing 
 O'er rhe waters, soft and clear- 
 Nearer yet, and nearer pealing, 
 Now it bursts upon the ear. 
 
MINSTREL. 315 
 
 Julielute, Anicn, 
 
 Farther now, now farther stealing, 
 
 Soft it fades upon the ear ; 
 Farther now, £cc. 
 Soft it lades, &c. 
 Now like moonlight waves retreating, 
 
 To the shore it dies along ; 
 Now like angry surges meeting, 
 
 Breaks the mingled tide of song. 
 Hark again, like waves retreating, 
 
 To the shore it dies along ; 
 Hark again, 8cc. 
 
 To the shore, gee. T, Moore. 
 
 I LOVE MY JEAN'. 
 Of a' the aii*s the wind can blaw, 
 
 I dearly like the west. 
 For there the bonny lassie lives. 
 
 The lassie I lo"e best : 
 There wild-woods grow, and rivers How, 
 
 And mony a hill betw een ; 
 But day and night my fancy's flight 
 
 Is ever wi' my Jean. 
 
 I see her in the dewy flowers, 
 
 I see her sweet and fair ; 
 I hear her in the tunefu' birds, 
 
 I heartier charm tin- nir ; 
 
I 
 
 i hate ; not a bonnk 8ow< r dial | 
 By fountain, sbaw,or green, 
 
 There's not a bonnie bird that 
 But minds me o' my Jean. 
 
 Upon the banks of flowing Clyde, 
 
 The lasst s busk them braw, 
 But when their best they hae put on, 
 
 My Jennie dings them a' ; 
 In hamely weeds she far exceeds 
 
 The fairest of the town ; 
 Baith sage and gay confess it sae, 
 
 Tho' dress'd in rustic gown. 
 
 The gamesome lamb that sucks the dam, 
 
 Mair harmless canna be, 
 She has nac faut (if sick we c'at) 
 
 Except her love forme : 
 The sparkling dew, of clearest hue, 
 
 Is like her shining e'en ; 
 In shape and air wha can compare 
 
 Wi* my sweet lovely Jean ? 
 
 O blaw ye westlin winds, blaw salt, 
 
 Amang the leafy trees ; 
 Wi' gentle breath frae muir an' dale, 
 
 Bring hame the laden bees : 
 And bring the lassie back to me, 
 
 That's ay sae neat an' clean ; 
 Ae blink o' her would banish eare* 
 
 Sae charming is my 
 
 
EL. 
 
 What sighs and vowsftmang th< nowes, 
 
 Hae pass*d between us twa ; 
 How fein to meet, how wae to part, 
 
 That day she gaed aw a ; 
 The powers aboon ean only ken, 
 
 To whom the heart is seen, 
 That nane can be sac dear to me, 
 
 As my sweet lovely Jean. 
 
 I see her in the glassy stream 
 
 That winds along the vale, 
 1 hear her inswei I eeho's voice 
 
 That dies along the gale : 
 I'll love h> r while a vital spark 
 
 Shall shed its latest gleam, 
 Gay nature's charms would soon depart 
 
 If 'twere na Eh my Jean. 
 
 A M \>;\S A MAX FOR A' THAT, 
 for honest poverty, 
 angs his head and a' that? 
 The coward slave we pass him by, 
 
 And dare Ik- poor for a* that 
 For a' that, and a* that, 
 
 Our toils obscure, an' a' that, 
 The lank is but the guinea stamp, 
 ram's the gowd, for a' that. 
 ' MihamcJ) rare aediw . 
 
MINSTREL. 
 
 Gie fools their silk, and knaves their wine, 
 
 A man's a man for a' that. 
 For a' that, and a' that, 
 
 Their tinsel show, an' a' that ; 
 An honest man, though ne'er sae poor, 
 
 Is chief of men for a' that. 
 
 Ye see yon birkie, ca"d a lord, 
 Wha struts and stares, and a* that, 
 
 Tho' hundreds worship at his w ore!, 
 
 He's but a cuif for a' that. 
 For a' that, and a' that, 
 
 His riband, star, and a" that ; 
 A man of independent mind, 
 
 Can look, and laugh at a' that. 
 
 The king- can mak' a belted knight, 
 
 A marquis, duke, and a' that, 
 An honest man's aboon his might, 
 
 Gude faith he manna fa" that 1 
 For a' that, a] id a' that, 
 
 His dignities and a' that ! 
 The pith o" sense, and pride o' worth y 
 
 Are grander far than a' that. 
 
 Then let us pray, that come it may, 
 
 As come it shall for a' that ; 
 That sense and worth o'er a' the earth, 
 
 Shall bear the gree, and a' that ; 
 For a' that, and a' that. 
 
 It's coming yet, for a'' that : 
 'Whan man to man, tho warld o'er. 
 
 Shall brothers he, and a' that. Lur 
 
MINSTREL. 319 
 
 THE RAISING. 
 
 Came mutter my lads, your mechanic:.! tools, 
 
 Your saws and your a» s, your hammers and rules ; 
 
 Bnng your mallets and planes, your level and line, 
 
 And plenty of pins of American pine. 
 
 For our roof we will raise, and our song still shall be, 
 A government firm, and our citizens free. 
 
 Com,-. a p with tll( . p]ategi ]ay them fimi Qn the wal] ^ 
 
 , '<• at large, thi Ye the ground- work of all; 
 Examine them well, and see that they're sound, 
 Let no rotten parts in our building be found ; 
 1 or our roof we will raise, and our song still shall be, 
 Our government firm, and our citizens free. 
 
 Now hand up the girders, lay each in his place, 
 Between them the joists must divide all the space ; 
 J.ike assembly-men, these should lie level along, 
 Like g.rders, our senate prove level and strong: 
 
 *or our roof we will raise, and our song still shall be, 
 
 A government firm, over citizens free. 
 
 The rafters now frame, your king-posts and braces, 
 And Idnve your pins home to keep all in their places 
 Let* isdom and strength in the fabric combine, 
 And vour pins be all made of American pine : 
 
 * or the roof we will raise, and our song still shall be, 
 
 A government firm, over. 
 
 Our king-posts are judges-now upright they stand, 
 Strppoi ting the braces, the lav s of the land ; 
 
MINSTREL. 
 
 The law of the land which divide right from wrong ; 
 
 And strengthen the weak, by weakening the strong. 
 For our roof we will raise, and our song still shall t 
 Laws equal and just, for a people that's free. 
 
 Lo ! up with the rafters— each frame is a state ! 
 
 How noble they rise ! their span too how great ! 
 
 From the north to the south, o'er the whole they ex- 
 tend, 
 
 And rest on the walls, while the walls they defend ! 
 For our roof we will raise, and our song still shall be, 
 Combined in strength, yet as citizens free. 
 
 Now enter the purlins, and drive your pins through, 
 And see that your joints are drawn home, and all true, 
 The purlins will bind all the rafters together, 
 The strength of the whole shall defy wind and weather, 
 
 For our roof we will raise, and our song still shall be, 
 
 United as States, but as citizens free. 
 
 Come, raise up the turret, our glory and pride : 
 In the centre it stands, o'er the whole to preside ; 
 The sons of Columbia shall view with delight, 
 Its pillars and arches, and towering height ; 
 Our roof is now raised, and our song still shall be, 
 A Federal Head, o'er a people still five. 
 
 Huzza ! my brave boys, our work is complete, 
 The world shall admire Columbia's fair seat : 
 Its strength against tempest and time shall be proof, 
 And thousands shall come to dwell under our roof. 
 While we drain the deep bowl, our toast still shell I 
 Our Government firm, and our Citizens 
 
i REL. 321 
 
 MY BONNIE LASSIE. 
 
 I gajn ray bonnie lassie, lassie smile again, 
 Prithee do not frown, sweet lassie, for it gives me'pain; 
 If to love thee too sincerely be a fault in me, 
 I hits to use me so severely, is not kind in thee. 
 Then smile again my bonnie lassie, lassie smile again, 
 Oh! smile agaio my bonnie lassie, prithee smile again. 
 
 Fare-thee-wey my honnie lassie, lassie fare-thee-well, 
 I Lme will show thee, bonnie lassie, more than tongue 
 
 can tell ; 
 I hough we're doom'd by fate to sever, and 'tis hard to 
 
 part, 
 Still beliere me, thou shalt ever own my faithful heart, 
 i lien smile again, &c. 
 
 OH, LADY FAIR. 
 First voice. 
 Oh Lady fair, where art thou roaming ? 
 h<- sun has sunk, the night is coming. 
 Second voice. 
 Stranger, I go o'er moor and mountain, 
 To tell my beads at Agnes' Fountain, 
 
 First voice. 
 
 A ml who is the man with his white lock: flov ing ? 
 Oh Lady fair, where is he going ? 
 
 Third voice. 
 A wand'ring pilgrim weak I falter, 
 To tell my beads at Agnes' altar, 
 V.M X 
 
322 MINSTREL. 
 
 Trio. 
 Chill falls the rain, night winds are blowing, 
 
 Dreary and dark's the way we're going. 
 
 First voice. 
 Fair Lady ! rest till morning blushes, 
 I'll strew tor thee a bed of rushes. 
 
 Second voice. 
 Oh ! stranger when my beads I'm counting, 
 I'll bless thy name at Agnes* Fountain. 
 
 First voice. 
 Thou, Pilgrim, turn and rest thy Borrow, 
 Thou'lt go to Agnes' shrine to-morrow. 
 
 Third voice. 
 Good stranger I when my beads I'm t. Iling, 
 My saint shall bless thy leafy dwelling. 
 
 Trio. 
 Strew then, oh strew our bed of t o ! :- . 
 Here we shall rest till morning blushes. 
 
 T. Moot 
 
 IF I DO, MAY I NEVER BE MARRIED. 
 The kiss that he gave when he left me behind, 
 
 Scal'd the promise of Henry's love ; 1 
 
 And when to my sailor I'm false or unkind, 
 
 Such falsehood expect from the dove : I 1 
 
 For the promise of lovers should n< "< rlx ( , 
 
 And I promised my lad, the' behind him I tarrJB ^ 
 That I ne'er would forsake him, thu' humbl< ) 
 And 3 if I do, may J 
 
MINSTREL. 
 
 Now the winds and the waves boar him over 1 1 
 The gay squire would give me fine thing's ; 
 Bui what are his riches, his grandeur to me, 
 
 His baubles, his ribbons, and rings : 
 For the promise of lovers, &e. 
 
 His cottage is low, but content dwells within, 
 And snug is the thatch o'er the door ; 
 
 For riches, without hira, I care not a pin, 
 For my sailor's the lad I adore: 
 For the promise of lovers, &.c . 
 
 ERIN'. 
 
 \h, pooh, botheration, dear Ireland's the nation, 
 Which all other nations together excels ; 
 
 Where worth, hospitality, conviviality, 
 Friendship and open sincerity dwells ; 
 
 pure I've roam'd the world over, from Dublin to Dover, 
 But in all the strange countries wherever Pve been, 
 ne'er saw an island on sea or on dryland, 
 Like Paddy's own sweet little island of green. 
 
 n England your roses make bcatiful posies, 
 Provoke Scotia's thistle, you meet your reward ; 
 
 Itit sure for its beauty, an Irishman's duty, 
 "Will teach him his own native plant to regard. 
 
 aim Patrick first set it, with tear-drops he wet it, 
 And often to cherish and bless it was seen, 
 ; \ iiHi< s are rare too, it's fresh and it's fair too, 
 n island so gi 
 
324 MINSTREL. 
 
 A sprig from each stem is a neat valued gem, 
 Which the bosoms of Erin's fail daughtei 
 
 Together united, unsullied, unblighted, 
 A blooming and beautiful nosegay it forms : 
 
 Ah, long may they flourish, and heaven's d^ws nourish 
 Each warm kindred soil, where these emM« nu ■ 
 seen ; 
 
 May no fatal blunder e'er rend thorn asunder, 
 But long be they wreath'd in an island so green. 
 
 Oh ! long life to old Ireland, its bogs and its mireland! 
 
 There's not such a universe under the sun, 
 For honour, for spirit, fidelity, merit, 
 
 For wit and good fellowship, frolic, and fun ; 
 With wine and with whiskey ,when once it gets f i Key, 
 
 An Irishman's heart in true colours is seen , 
 Wbile with mirth overflowing, with love it is glowing 
 
 With love for its own native island of green. 
 
 GLORIOUS APOLLO. 
 
 Glorious Apollo from on high beheld us, 
 
 Wandering to find a temple for his praise, 
 Sent Polyhymnia hither to shield us, 
 Whilst we ourselves such a structure might raise. 
 Thus then combining, 
 Hands and hearts joining, 
 Sing we in harmony Apollo's praise. 
 
 Here every generous sentiment awaking, 
 
 Music inspiring unity and joy, 
 Each social pleasure giving and partaking, 
 
 G!ec and good humour our hours eipplor. 
 Thus then &c ; 
 
MIXSTREL. 
 
 DAINTY DAVIE 
 I he lasses tain wad hue from me, 
 A sang to keep them a' in glee, 
 But ne'er a anc I hae to gie, 
 
 Bnt only Dainty Davie. 
 I It arn'd it early in my youth, 
 When barley bannocks caus'd a drouth, 
 Whar cronies met to wcet tlieir mouth, 
 
 Our sang was Daint) Davie, 
 
 Dainty Davie is the thing, 
 
 1 never ketit a canty spring, 
 
 That e'er dev -r\'d the Highland fling, 
 Sae weel as Dainty Dai it . 
 When friends and fouk at bridals meet, 
 Their drouthy moifs and craigs to weef , 
 The story canna be complete 
 Without they've Dainty Davie. 
 Sae ladies, tunc your spinnets weel, 
 An' lift it up wi' a' your skill, 
 There's nac strathspey, nor Highland reel 
 Comes up to Dainty Davie. 
 O Dainty Davie, &c. 
 
 Though bardies a', in former times, 
 
 Hae stain'dmy sang wae-worth their rhymes ! 
 
 They had but little mense, wi' crimes, 
 
 To blast my dainty Davie. 
 The rankest weeds the garden spoil. 
 When labour tak's the play a while, 
 The lamp gaes out for want o* oil ; 
 
 And 6ae it far'd wi' Davie. 
 O Dainty Davie, &c 
 
MINSTREL. 
 
 There's ne'er a bar but what's complete, 
 "While ilka note is ay sae sweet, 
 That auld and young get to their feet, 
 
 When they hear Dainty Davie. 
 Until the latest hour of time, 
 When music a 1 her pow'rs shall time, 
 Each hill, and dale, and grove shall ring 
 
 Wi' bonny Dainty Davie. 
 O Dainty Davie, See. 
 
 EVA DELISH. 
 The sun was set, the sea was calm, 
 
 The evening breeze had died away, 
 The falling dew was fraught with balm, 
 
 And nature hush'd in slumber lay ; 
 'Twas then I left the heath clad hill, 
 
 And hasten'd towards the spreading tree, 
 To meet beside the winding rill, 
 
 My Eva delish gramachree. 
 
 That night of bliss too swiftly flew, 
 
 While vows of endless love we swore, 
 Ah ! what avaifd our love so true, 
 
 When doonrd by fate to meet no more ? 
 A fever o'er her limbs had spread, 
 
 Which tore her soon from love and me', 
 And cold and lowly is the bed, 
 
 Where rest my delish gramachree. 
 
 Tho' years are past, my heart oVrllows, 
 Nor yet has ccas'd with grief to swell. 
 

 ,my bosom knows, 
 Save on the mournful theme to dwell ; 
 
 And oft when evening 1 ! dying gale, 
 Light brushes o'er the silvVing sea, 
 
 In anguish o'er her grave I wail, 
 My Eva delish gramachree I 
 
 GOOD NIGHT AND JOY HE WI' YE A\ 
 ( rood night and joy be wi' ye a', 
 
 Your harmless mirth lias cheer'd my heart: 
 May life's fell blasts out o'er ye blaw 1 
 
 In sorrow may ye ne'er part ! 
 My spirit fives butstrengtb is gone ; 
 
 The mountain fires now blaze in vain, 
 Remember, sons, the deeds I've done, 
 And in our deeds Til live again. 
 
 •li yon niuir our gallant clan 
 
 Frae boasting fees their banners tore, 
 Wha show "d himself a better man, 
 
 Or fiercer wav'd the red elaymote? 
 Dul when in peace then mark me there, 
 
 When thro' the glen the wanderer came ; 
 1 gave him of our hardy 1'are, 
 
 I gave him here a welcome harue. 
 
 The avid will speak, the young* man hear, 
 Be canty, but be good and leal, 
 •m ill aye ha'e heart to bear, 
 
I MINSTREL. 
 
 So here I set I'll see you shine, 
 I'll see you triumph ere I fa' ; 
 
 My parting breath shall breathe yon mine, 
 Good night and joy be wi' ye a' ! 
 
 LUMPS O' PUDDING. 
 Contented wi' little and canty wi' mair, 
 Whene'er I forgather wi' sorrow and care, 
 I gie them a skelp as they're creeping alang, 
 Wi' a cog o' gude ale, and an auld Scottish sang. 
 
 I wyles aw the elbow o' troublesome thought, 
 But man is a sodger, and life is a fraught ; 
 My mirth and good humour are coin in my pouch, 
 And my freedom's my hardship nae monarch dare 
 touch. 
 
 A towmond o' trouble should that be my fa', 
 A night o' good fellowship southcrs it a'; 
 When at the blythe end of our journey at last, 
 Wha the de'il ever thinks o' the road he has past. 
 
 Blind chance let her snapper and stoyle on her way, 
 Be't to me, be't frae me, e'en let the jade gae, 
 Come ease, come travail, come pleasure or pain ; 
 My warst word is, Welcome, and welcome again ! 
 
 
 FAREWEL TO LOCHABER. 
 Farewcl to Lochaber, and farewel my Jean, 
 Where hcp.rtsome ^vith thee I ha*e menv din s been ; 
 
MINSTREL 
 
 ihiIk r bo more, Loehah 
 We'll may-be return to Lochaber no more. 
 
 us that I shed they are for my «l< ;u , 
 And Qft' fbt the dangers attending on wier ; 
 Tho* borne on rough seas to a far bloody shore, 
 May be to return to Lochaber no more. 
 
 Tho 1 hurricanes rise, and raise ev'ry wind, 
 They'll ne'er make a tempest like that in my miud, 
 Tho' loudest of thunders on louder waves roar, 
 That's naething like leaving my love on the shore. 
 To leave thee behind me my heart is sair pain'd ; 
 But by ease that's inglorious no fame can be gain'd : 
 And beauty and lore's the reward of the bi 
 And I maun deserve it before I can crave. 
 
 Then glory, my Jean, maun plead my excuse ; 
 Since honour commands me, how can I refuse ? 
 Without it I ne'er can have merit for thee, 
 And losing thy favor I'd better not be— 
 
 ii. my lass, to win glory and fame; 
 And if I should chance to come gloriously hame, 
 I'll bring a heart to thee with iove running o'er, 
 And then I'll leave thee and Lochaber no more. 
 
 MA VOURNEEN DEELISH. 
 Ah ! sweet were the moments when love ron 
 
 > .ling my hero first plighted his truth j 
 
330 MINSTREL. 
 
 Ali ! blest were the transports, when heart to heart 
 
 beating-, 
 I first own'd by conq'ror the pride of our youth, 
 Adoring", imploring, his passion revealing, 
 Soft blisses and kisses from me fondly stealing, 
 No thought of his soul from his true love concealing, 
 Ma voumeen Deelish Lion Oge ! 
 
 But sad was the day, when stern duty compelling, 
 My lover departed to meet the proud foe ; 
 Yet blissful the hour if victorious repelling, 
 To chase from my slumbers the visions of woe. 
 Return then my hero, no longer thus grieve me, 
 Sweet solace of life, dear hope never leave me ; 
 Sweet presage of bliss ! oh don't, don't deceive me, 
 Ma Yourneen Deelish Lion Oge ! 
 
 HERE THEN WE PART FOR EVER. 
 
 Here then we part for ever- 
 Dear though thou once might he, 
 I would not now endeavour 
 
 To win one sigh from thee. 
 Few eyes may shine so bright as thine, 
 
 Few brows may be so fair, 
 But nor eye nor brow can move me now, 
 For truth is wanting there. 
 Here then we part for ever- 
 Dear though thou once might be 
 I would not now endeavour 
 To win one sigh from thee. 
 
MINSTREL, JJ 
 
 when it is plighted, 
 Lies withering from that hour, 
 Ami the fond heart, when slighted, 
 
 "Will wither like the How 'r. 
 No after sun that beams upon 
 
 That rose, can bloom impart ; 
 No after low can o'er remove 
 
 The canker from that heart. 
 
 Here then we part, &c. Sweeny, 
 
 COMPLAINT. 
 That I have loved thee long and well, 
 Mj heart cannot refuse to tell — 
 That thou hast all unworthy proved 
 Of her who fondly, tnilyjoved, 
 1 cannot choose but feel and know, 
 And yet I pray it were not so. 
 
 Thou hadst been worthy well of me— 
 
 O ! had I then been worthy thee I 
 
 If thou hadst used thy better part, 
 
 Tin loft\ soul and generous heart ; 
 
 And not by guilty passions driven, 
 
 Been forced from me, and hope, and heaven. 
 
 O ! I did love thy manly form, 
 Thy kindling eye, thy bosom warm, 
 Thy mighty purpose, upward turn'd, 
 Thj soul, that all with i^lory burn'd, 
 Thy noble In auty, worthy one, 
 
! MINSTREL. 
 
 But now I love, and yet must hate 
 The leman's tool, the villain's mate, 
 Thy beauty seared, thy spirit gone, 
 Thy generous bosom turned to stone. 
 
 ! hard, such torturing grief to prove ; 
 
 1 would but hate, and yet must love. PercivaL 
 
 THE BROWN BEAUTY. 
 While Hushing o'er thy olive cheek, 
 Like the morning's dubious break, 
 "Virgin shame delights to spread 
 Her roses of a deeper red ; 
 And those ruddy lips of thine 
 Emulate the bleeding vine ; 
 Think'st thou Celia's languid white 
 Can allure my roving sight, 
 Or my bosom catch a glow 
 From that chilling form of snow ? 
 In those orbs, O nymph divine I 
 Stars may well be said to shine, 
 Stars whose pointed rays are made 
 More brilliant by surrounding shade ; 
 Shade thy raven locks supply 
 To relieve my dazzled eye. 
 Trust me, thy transcendant face 
 Takes from its brown a mellow grace ; 
 A ripe autumnal bloom benign 
 Whence all the loves exulting shine ; 
 As jet emits a glossy light 
 From its own polish'd surface bright, 
 
 Dei 
 
MINSTREL. 
 
 FAREWELL. 
 
 Then Tuv tin e-well, ray own dear love, 
 
 This world has now for us. 
 No greater grief, no pain al>ove 
 
 I lie pain of parting thus, d< M love, 
 
 'I lie pain of parting thus. 
 
 Had we but known, since first we met, 
 Some Hew short hours of bliss, 
 
 We might, in numbering; them, forget 
 The deep, deep pain of this, dear love, 
 The deep, deep pain of this. 
 
 But no, nlas !— "We've never seen 
 One glimpse of pleasure's ray, 
 
 Bat still there came some cloud between, 
 And ehas'd it all away, dear love, 
 And ehas'd it all away ! 
 
 Y.-t . Yn could those sad moments last, 
 
 Far dearer to my heart 
 Were hours of grief together past, 
 
 I hav years of mirth apart, dear lore, 
 
 Than years of ninth apart. 
 
 t now. II— our hope was born in f! an 
 And nurs'd mid vain regrets ; 
 
 Like winter suns it rose in tears, 
 Like them in lean ir & ts, dear ' i 
 
MINSTREL, 
 
 THE SPIRIT'S SPOTLESS PURITY. 
 And they may say thy long dark hair, 
 
 Clustering in shadowy ilow, 
 Is like the raven's plumage there, 
 
 Veiling the moonlight brow ! 
 The roseate flush that dyes thy cheek, 
 
 All bright with beauty's glow, 
 Is like the radiant crimson streak 
 
 Of sunset o'er the snow '. 
 There is a charm more bright for me— 
 
 Thy soul of sensibility. 
 
 And they may say thy soft blue eye, 
 
 When rais'd its living shroud , 
 Outshines the diamond gem on high, 
 
 That lights yon azure cloud 1 
 Thy lips, as plants of coral red, 
 
 In bloom where pearl-drops shine I 
 Thy breath, like heavenly incense shed 
 
 From virtue's holiest shrine ! 
 There is a charm more rich to me — 
 
 Thy heart's long proved sincerity. 
 
 And they may say thy light step, where 
 They wake the graceful dance, 
 
 Is like a seraph's motion there, 
 Or wild bird's swift-wing'd glance. 
 
 And lingering yet thy form of love 
 aven! 
 
MINSTRl 
 
 Thj voice, like music breath'd above, 
 
 Among the clouds of even ! 
 There is a charm more dear to me— 
 
 Thy spirit's spotless purity. 
 
 HAL BRAZEN. 
 
 If< re full i. f sears lies poor Hal Brazen, 
 
 Fur whom the corps lms grieved ; 
 H< Ml ne'er stand sentry, for this reason, 
 
 By death he's imu relieved. 
 Five feet six incites he was counted, 
 
 And brave withal, 'twas said ; 
 
 id by trim's no longer mounted, 
 
 He halts in honor's bed. 
 
 I la! never from his corps deserted, 
 
 He'd face a ball or sword ; 
 m nt he oft diverted, 
 
 And Poll, his wife, ador'd. 
 How oft would he against the foe march, 
 
 Pursuing all that fled. 
 Farewell his quick step, and his slow march, 
 
 He halts in honor's bed. 
 
 N ' i I lal above shall be promoted, 
 
 When his commander great, 
 Shall call the brave, the good, the noted, 
 
 And give hp orders straight; 
 Fo handle arms— the word is given, 
 And trumpets call th< 
 . billeted in I : 
 I 
 
!3G MINSTREL. 
 
 THE NEAT LITTLE CO IT 
 
 The fortune I crave, and sigh for no more, 
 Is health and contentment, apparel and feed, 
 
 The smile of affection from one I adore, 
 And the neat little cottage that stands n< ar a wood 
 
 While slaves of ambition sell comfort for fame, 
 Be mine the applause of the wise and the good, 
 
 A conscience that daily acquits me of blame, 
 And a neat little cottage that stands near a wood. 
 
 Let others for grandeur and opulence toil, 
 I'd share not their turbulent joys if I could ; 
 
 ThD treasure I seek is affection's sweet smile, 
 
 And a neat little cottage that stands near a wood. 
 
 O MY BONNY BET. 
 
 No more I'll court the town-bred fair 
 
 Who shines in artificial beauty ; 
 For native charms, without compare, 
 Claim all my love, respect, and duly. 
 O my bonny, bonny Bet, sweet blossom ! 
 Were I a king, so proud to wear thee, 
 From off the verdant couch I'd bear thee, 
 To grace thy faithful lover's bosom. 
 
 Yet ask me where these beauties lie, 
 
 I cannot say in smile or dimple, 
 In blooming cheek or radiant eye, 
 Tb happy nature, wild and simple. 
 O my bonny, bonny B< t 
 
I REL. 337 
 
 ,,iu> beau f<<r ladiei pin«*, 
 And sigh in numbers trite and common ; 
 Ye gods I one darling wish be mine, 
 And all I ask is lovely woman ! 
 
 O my bonny, bonny Bet, &c. 
 
 Come, dearest girl, thy rosy bowls 
 
 Like thy bright eye with pleasure dancing ; 
 My heaven art thou, so take my soul, 
 With rapture ei ery sense entrancing. 
 
 O mv bonny, bonny Bet, &c. 
 
 O'Keeffe. 
 
 DICKY GOSSIP. 
 When I was a younker, I first was apprentie'd 
 
 Unto a gay barber, so dapper and airy ; 
 I next was a carpenter, then turn'd a dentist, 
 Then tailor, good lord ! then an apothecary. 
 But for this trade, or that ; 
 They all come as pat as they can ; 
 For shaving and tooth-drawing, 
 Bleeding, cabbaging, and sawing, 
 Dicky Gossip is the man. 
 
 Though tailor and dentist but awkwardly tether, 
 In both the vocations I still have sliavmgs ; 
 
 And two of my trades couple rarely together , 
 For barber and carpenter both deal in shavings 
 So for this trade or that, &c. 
 
 But blunders will happen in callings so various, 
 I fancy occur to some who are prouder; 
 Y 
 
38 MIN3T11F.I. 
 
 1 once gave a patient, whose health was precarious 
 A terrible dose of my best shaving; powder. 
 But no mattei tat that, eke. 
 
 Prinir Boat 
 
 O WHEN MY FARM IS TAKEN, 
 O w hen my farm is taken, 
 How delightful 'twill he o'er my aen 9 to stump ! 
 1 hi n I'll marry a dairy maid, jolly and plump, 
 Rut she shan't be as fat as my bacon. 
 I'll hire a lout to wield the flail, 
 
 Small beer shall serve the bumpkin : 
 While I, by puzzling home-brew'd ale, 
 Grow rounder than a pumpkin. 
 
 I'll have hogs, dogs, cows, sows, 
 Turkies, ducks, and barley-mows, 
 ITarroAvs, ganders, bulls, ploughs, 
 And I'll dazzle the country gabies ; 
 I'll get a bull, 111 get a cart, 
 I'll get the Farmer's Guide by heart, 
 And I'll get a dozen babies. 
 
 Then I'll pet my dogs, 
 
 111 fat my hogs, 
 
 I'll milk my cows, 
 
 I'll salt my sows, 
 
 I'll run my rigs, 
 
 I'll stick my pigs, 
 
 I'll roast my lambs, 
 
 Til mend my dam :, 
 
MINSTREI 339 
 
 I'll \\h» t my knife, 
 I'll kill my sheep, 
 I'll kiss my wife, 
 Ami go to sleep, 
 All when my farm is taken. 
 
 I'll drink just double on Saturday night, 
 Sitting up with my spouse till candle light, 
 For I need not ris<- early on Sunday ; 
 J ben HI prat.- to my love of clover and barns, 
 While the dear little children 9 ! stockings she darns, 
 
 That nm>t go la the wash on Monday. 
 On Sunday to church, beef and pudding at one, 
 And the evening to spend, 
 1*11 get drunk with a frfc nd, 
 bed, and on Monday be up with the sun. 
 Bat on Monday my bed forsaking, 
 
 how my poor nob will be aching ! 
 "With my eyes stiff and red, 
 Sunk deep in my head, 
 
 1 mall look as old as Methusalem ; 
 Whikt the curst noises round me 
 Will so confound me, 
 
 J shall w'nh the farm yard at Jerusalem, 
 For thf re the pigs will be squeaking, 
 i he waggon wheels be creaking, 
 Ducks quacking, 
 Cart-whips cracking, 
 I u ikies gobbling, 
 ' bling, 
 
MINSTREL, 
 
 Rooks cawing, 
 Plough boys jawing, 
 Horses neighing, 
 Donkies braying, 
 Cocks crowing, 
 Oxen lowing, 
 Dogs bark, 
 Noah's ark, 
 All when my farm is taken* 
 
 Coleman, Ji . 
 
 HEAVING OF THE LEAD. 
 For England, when with fav'ring gale 
 Our gallant ship up Channelsteer'd, 
 And scudding under easy sail, 
 
 The high blue western land appeared ; 
 To heave the lead the seaman sprung, 
 And to the watchful piiot sung, 
 
 " By the deep— nine I' 1 
 
 And bearing up to gain the port, 
 Some well-known object kept in~vi< v. | 
 
 An abbcy-tow'r, an harbour, fort, 
 Or beacon to the vessel true; 
 
 While oft the lead the seaman flung, 
 
 And to the pilot cheerly sung, 
 
 " By the mark— seven ! n 
 
 And as the much-lov'd shore drew near, 
 With transport wc beheld the roof, 
 
 Where dwelt a friend or partner dear, 
 Of faith and love a matchles pi 
 
MINSTREL. 
 
 The lead once more the seaman flung, 
 And to the watchful pilot sung, ' 
 
 " Quarter- less— five! 
 
 Now to her birth the ship draws nigh ; 
 
 We shorten sail, she feels the tide, 
 " Stand dear the cable J" is the cry, 
 
 The anchor's gone ; we safely ride. 
 The watch is set, and though the night 
 We hear the seaman, with delight, 
 
 Proclaim, "All's well I" 
 
 Fcarce* 
 
 AMERICA, COMMERCE, AND FREEDOM, 
 How blest the life a sailor leads 
 
 From clime to clime still ranging; 
 For as the calm the storm succeeds, 
 The scene delights by changing. 
 Though tempests howl along the main, 
 
 Some object will remind us, 
 And cheer with hope to meet again 
 The friends we left behind us. 
 When under full sail we laugh at the gale, 
 
 And the landsmen look pale, never heed them;' 
 But toss offa glass to some favourite lass, 
 To America, Commerce, and Freedom. 
 
 But when arriv'd in sight of land, 
 
 Or safe in port rejoicing, 
 Our ship we moor, our sails we hand, 
 
 WhiKt oul • -mc;; 
 
J42 MINSTREL. 
 
 With cheerful hearts the shore we reach, • 
 
 Our friends delighted greet us, 
 And tripping lightly o*cr the beach, 
 The pretty lasses meet us. 
 When the full flowing bowl enlivens the soul, 
 
 To foot it we merrily lead them ; 
 And each bonny las3 will drink off her glass, 
 To America, Commerce, and Freedom. 
 
 Our prizes sold, the chink we share, 
 
 And gladly we receive it ; 
 And when we meet a brother tar- 
 That wants, we freely give it ; 
 No f reeborn sailor yet had store, 
 But cheerfully would lend it : 
 And when its gone— to sea for more, 
 We cam it but to spend it. 
 Then drink round, my boys, 'tis the first of our joys 
 
 To relieve the distress'd, clothe and feed them, 
 s Tis a duty we share with the brave and the fair, 
 In this land of Commerce and Freedom. 
 
 KITTY OF COLERAINE. 
 As beautiful Kitty one morning was tripping 
 
 With a pitcher of milk from the fair of Coleraine, 
 When she saw me she stumbled, the pitcher it tumbled* 
 
 And all the sweet buttermilk watered the plain. 
 O ! what shall I do now, r t\vas looking at you now, 
 
 Sure, sure such a pitcher I'll ne'er meet again ; 
 ■Twas the pride of my dairy, O, Barney M'Cleary, 
 
 You're sent as a plague to the girls of Coleraine. 
 
IR1LL ^ 
 
 i n beside her, and gently did chidt . 
 l hat such a misfortune should give hi r such pain i 
 I kiss then I pave Iter, and before I did leave her, 
 Ski wwM tor such pleamre she'd break it again. 
 I'«;h hay-making season, I can't tell the reason, 
 Misfortune will never come single, 'tis plain , 
 For very soon after poor Kitty's disaster. 
 The devil a pitcher was whole in Colerainc. 
 
 CAPTAIN MEGAN. 
 O the Face of brave Captain Megan 
 Wa . as broad as a big trying-pan J 
 Jmt ovet his snout 
 One eye was snurT'd out, 
 But the other burnt bright upon Nan, sweet Nan ! 
 Oh! it bothei'd the heart of poor Nan. 
 
 I'm no beauty, sighed Captain Megan, 
 But 'tis manners alone make the man, 
 
 And though my long nose 
 
 Should hangover my toes, 
 Would you like me the worse for it, Nan?— sweet Nan! 
 Would you like me the worse for it, Nan? 
 
 Nan leerM upon Captain Megan ; 
 Her skin was the colour of tan ; 
 
 But the Captain, she saw, 
 
 Had a je nc scai quoi ; 
 'So the Captain heeonquerM sweet Nan— sw 
 Oh, long life to bravp Captain Megan ! 
 
344 MINSTREL. 
 
 DENNIS BULGRUDDERY. 
 I was born one clay when my mother was out 
 In her reckoning— -211 accident brought it about ; 
 'Bout family quarrels and such sort of fun, 
 I have heard of forefathers, but I'd only one. 
 Derry down, &c. 
 
 Our cabin was full, though not very big, 
 Of turnips, potatoes, a dog, cow, and pig ; 
 Our dog's name was Dennis, our cow's Paddy Whack, 
 'Till christen'd I had not a name to my back. 
 Deny down, &c. 
 
 When I came to be christen'd my poor mother saw 
 On my face our dog Dennis had just laid his paw ; 
 What's his name, says the clergy, "down Dennis," says 
 
 she, 
 So Dennis Bulgruddery, he cristen'd me. 
 Derry down, &c. 
 
 I grew up and got married, but was left in the lurch ; 
 For my wife died before I could get her to church ; 
 With the first wife too late, With the second too soon ; 
 For she brought me a son in the first honey moon, 
 Derry down, &c. 
 
 This business being over, I'd not make a fuss ; 
 
 It's three months you know since the priest married us; 
 
 Ay, that's right reckoning, says she, and it's three auxe 
 
 by mine , 
 And three by my own, which together mak^ n'<i><- 
 Dewy do yn < 
 
 I 
 
MINSTREL, 4J 
 
 She died, with what joy I a handkerchief bought, 
 
 A bran new one, to cry at her grave as I ought J 
 But coming; home in the evening w ith eyes red as beef, 
 I pull'd out the onion and supp'd on my grief. 
 Deny down, &e. 
 
 Having reap'd all the comforts a single life yields, 
 I turn d reaper and cut down huge number of fields ; 
 f iom reaping of wheat I tum'd doctor, and then, 
 By the powers, I cut off huge numbers of men. 
 Deny down, &c. 
 
 I cut off an exciseman whose * idow, good lack, 
 Though she had a thousand times calfd me a quack, 
 I've marrx d, and I believe you guess now, 
 It's the beautiful lady that keeps the red cow, 
 Deny down, &c. 
 
 SENSIBILITY. 
 
 ih purse-proud slave, with pompous soul 
 May golden gilts impart, 
 
 A nd win the eye, without control, 
 But never touch the heart. 
 
 Tis gold attracts the insect mind, 
 
 Enslaves the iron school ; 
 Tis gold that leads the passion 
 
 And d 
 
346 MINSTREL, 
 
 But wealth could never yet control 
 
 A heart to feeling free, 
 Nor charm the pure expanded soul, 
 
 Like Sensibility ! 
 
 A simple flowV may oft disclose 
 
 More friendship, warm and true, 
 Than all the wealth the ocean knows, 
 
 Or mines of rich Peru. 
 
 //. G. Leivis. 
 
 REST, WEARY TRAVELLER. 
 
 Rest, weary traveller ! rest thee to day, 
 Where the cottager's welcome invites thee to slay , 
 And what to the heart is more grateful and dear 
 Tlian the welcome that waits on the cottager's fare ? 
 Rest, weary traveller ! 
 
 And bright is the smile Hospitality wears, 
 As the stranger at evening arrives at the door ; 
 And sweet is the accent that Cheerfulness bears, 
 And bids him then enter and wander no more ! 
 Rest, wear}' traveller .' 
 
 Arnold, 
 
 HUNTERS HORN. 
 The mom unbars the gates of light, 
 The landscape smiles in beauty blight ; 
 The soaring lark now swells his notes. 
 And, on the wings of silence, floats : 
 Hark! hark! hoik! 
 
MINSTREL 
 
 1 be huntsman winds his horn, 
 The woods around willi echoes iill, 
 Each huntsman mounts his panting sUed, 
 And o'er the trembling earth they speed ; 
 The welkin resounds 
 With horns and with hounds, 
 The welkin resounds, 
 With horns and with hounds ; 
 
 Tantarro ! tantarro ! tantarro ! 
 The welkin resounds 
 With horns and with hounds, 
 Tantarro ! tantarro ! tantarro ! 
 Tantarro ! tantarro ! tantarro ' 
 
 The stag pursues his eager flight, 
 The hunters keep their prey in sight; 
 The staunch oldpack,with wonderous speed, 
 Rush forward o'er each plain and mead ; 
 Hark ! hark ! hark ! 
 
 The huntsman's horn so shrill ; 
 
 The stag's at bay, his fate's forlorn, 
 The trickling tear steal from his eyes, 
 And lost in grief the antler dies ! 
 The welkin resounds, &c. 
 
 OH ! TWINE A WREATH OF EVERGREEN, 
 Oh ! twine a wreath of evergreen 
 
 And with it deck the brow 
 Of him who, 'mid life's varied scene, 
 
 Ne'er breaks his plighted vow : 
 
J MINSTREL. 
 
 Of him who, forced by henour's call", 
 
 In climes afar to roam, 
 Whose anxious thoughts will cvertuni 
 
 To her he leaves at home. 
 
 How few, 'mid pleasure's dazzling scenes^ 
 
 Reflect on kindness past ! 
 How few, -who wealth and power obtain> 
 
 Are faithful to the last. 
 
 Too oft in youth's gay sunny days 
 
 Men play the tyrant's part, 
 They first ensnare, and then, alas ! 
 
 Deceive the guileless heart. 
 
 TELL, PRETTY COUSIN, TELL ME TRUE. 
 Ruben. Tell, pretty cousin, tell me true, 
 
 Dotli Ruben read with scholars art ? 
 Through woman's eye can he review 
 Secrets that dwell within her heart ? 
 Tell, cousin, tell I 
 
 Mir Ian. Fie, roguish kinsman, fie on thee ! 
 To rudely mock a maiden's pain ; 
 If blushes on this cheek you see, 
 'Tis modesty that starts the stain. 
 
 Both. Fie, kinsman, fie ! 
 
 Yet, ah, did love's commission'd flame, 
 
 Two faithful hearts inspire, 
 Not virtue's rigid self might shame 
 
 To boast so pure a fire. 
 
As luciil g< ins, in earth deep laid, 
 Flash light on caverns round ; 
 
 So darker passions lose their shade 
 In hearts where love is found. 
 
 TARS OF COLUMBIA. 
 
 Ye sons of Columbia, the trumpet of Fame, 
 
 Thro the world your brave actions shall loudly pro- 
 
 claim; 
 
 * Sec Liberty's Genius triumphant arise, 
 
 Recording your deeds as she mounts to the skies ; 
 
 wjflstat the hostile shore, 
 
 where tlnind'ring- cannons roar, 
 
 No^riW^SS 1 ! J*" lar ' cach bravc tar shall be, 
 Ao tiibute-but glory-we'll die or be free. 
 
 Ye brave sons of Freedom, who fell in the cause, 
 Supporting your rights, independence and laws ; 
 "the actions of heroes in hist'ry are prae'd, 
 First shall Summers, Decatur and Wadsworth be 
 plac'd. 
 
 Whilst &c. 
 
 See Preble exalt efl, a monument stand, 
 Surrounded by heroes, who under his command, 
 Zt! 11)01S , tyrantS thcir vcn £*ancehave hurl'd, 
 And tl iy deeds O Columbia, resound thro' theworld. 
 Whilst &c. 
 
 And ZZS "f n ' S ^ nius our C0,mt 'T lIrf ' "«> 
 A nil should Tj-ranny dare our right! to invade, 
 
 Whdst &c, 
 
MINSTREL. 
 
 REST, WARRIOR REST. 
 He comes from the wars— from the red field of fight f 
 He comes through the storm and the darkness of night, 
 For rest and for refuge now fain to implore, 
 The warrior bends low at the cottager's door. 
 Pale— pale is his cheek— there's a gash on his brow, 
 His locks o'er his shoulders distractedly flow, 
 And the fire of his heart shoots by fits from his eye 
 like a languishing lamp— that just flashes— to die ! 
 Rest— warrior, rest I 
 
 Sunk in silence and sleep on the cottager's bed, 
 Oblivion shall visit the war-weary head- 
 Perchance he may dream— but the vision shall tell 
 Of his lady love's bower and her latest farewell ! 
 Illusion and teve chase the battle's alarms- 
 He shall dream that his mistress lies lock'd in his arms, 
 He shall feel on his lips the sweet warmth of her 
 
 kiss— 
 Nay ! warrior, wake not— such slumber is bliss I 
 Rest— warrior, rest i 
 
 DEI? MOT'S TRIP. 
 Twas business requir'd I'd from Dublin be straying, 
 I bargained the captain to sail pretty quick, 
 But just at the moment the anchor was weighing, 
 ' '• Jpal inted to play me a trick. 
 
MINSTREL, 351 
 
 Paddy, go down stairs and fetch me some 
 beer now l 
 
 thou) you're monstratiously kind, 
 i Ian you'll sail an ay, and I'll look mighty queer now 
 Win n I come up and see myself all left behind* 
 With my fal deral, &C. and sing palliluh, whilliluh, 
 w hilliluh, palliluh, \\ hack botheration, and langolee. 
 
 A storm met the ship, and did rock and so dodge her, 
 V.\ i the Captain we'll sink or be all cast away ; 
 Thinks I ne'er mind, 'cause I'm only a lodger, 
 \nd my life is insured, so the office must pay: 
 Rut a teaf w ho was sea-sick kiekt up such a riot, 
 Tho' 1 lay quite speachless like t'other poor elf, 
 I could not help bawling you spalpeen be quiet i 
 Do \oti think that there's nohodydead but yourself! 
 With your fal de ral, &c. 
 
 \Vf,l, we got ?af. j on shore, every son of his mother, 
 I ii i. I found an old friend, Mr. Paddy Macgee, 
 
 Och, Dermot, says he, is it you or your brother ? 
 
 Sa] > l I've a mighty (fit xt notion it's me : 
 "hi n l told him the bull we had made of our journey, 
 
 Put to bull-making, Irishman ever bear blame ; 
 
 Says he, my good friend, tho' we've bulls in Hibemia,' 
 I lit y've cuckolds in England, and that's all the same. 
 W ith my fal de ral, &c. 
 
 Rut from all sorts of cuckoldom heaven preserve'us ! 
 For John Bull and Paddy Bull's both man & wile \ 
 And even brave fellow who's kill'd in their service, 
 
352 MINSTREL, 
 
 Then who in defence of a pair of such heai 
 'Till he'd no legs to stand on, would eVr rim awaj r 
 
 Then a fig for our foes, and the damn'd tory parties ! 
 Our rights and the Union shall cany the day. 
 With our fal de ral, &c. 
 
 GLEE. 
 
 Sailor-boy ! sailor-boy ! sleep, my sweet fellow, 
 
 O'er thy rock'd vessel, when thunderbolts roll ; 
 Wild though the ocean ravc,loud though winds bellow, 
 
 Calm be thy bosom, for pure is thy soul. 
 Hushaby, hushaby, poor sailor-boy ! 
 
 Let not the tempest thy slumber destroy ; 
 Nor terrors of conscience thy bosom annoy ; 
 
 Then hushaby, hushaby, poor sailor-boy. 
 
 Shepherd-boy, shepherd-boy ! while your sheep f 
 
 If thou art pure as the lambs that you fold, 
 Heed not the snow-storm, for angels descending, 
 
 Shall spread their white pinions to guard thee from 
 cold. 
 Then hushaby! hushaby! poor shepherd-boy ! &c* 
 
 HERE'S A HEALTH. 
 Here's a health to all true lasses, 
 Pledge it merrily, fill your glasses, 
 
 Let the bumper toast go round. 
 May they live a life of pleasure 
 Without mixture, without measure, 
 
 For with them true joys are found. 
 
MINSTREL. 353 
 
 BOUND 'PRENTICE TO A WATERMAN. 
 Hound 'prentice to a waterman, I leanvd a bit to row, 
 
 Rut, bless your beart, I always was so gay, 
 Tbat, to treat a little watcr-nympb that took my beart 
 in tow, 
 I run myself in debt a bit, and tlien I ran away: 
 Singing, ri tol, i'ol de rol, de yeo bo. 
 
 Board a man of war I entered next, and learn'd to 
 quaff good flip, 
 And far from home we scudded on so gay ; 
 I ran my rigs, but lik'd so well my captain, crew, and 
 ship, 
 That, run what will, why damme, if I ever run 
 away : 
 
 Singing, ri tol, &c. 
 
 On board the Philadelphia I sail'd the world around, 
 
 Rut somehow I a prisoner was ta'en ; 
 So, when the Turkish jailer to my dungeon show'd a 
 light, 
 I blinded both his peepers, and ran away again. 
 Singing, ri tol, 8cc. 
 
 I've ran many risks in life, on ocean, and on shore, 
 
 But always, like a tar, got the day ; 
 And fighting in Columbia's cause, will run as many 
 
 more : 
 But, let me face ten thousand foes, will never run 
 away. 
 
 Singing, ri tol, fol de rol, yeo ho, 
 Y 
 
554 MINSTREL. 
 
 SCOTTISH WARRIOR SONG. 
 
 Oh lassie dear, I maun awa' 
 
 Tne bugles to the battle ca' 
 And I must mingle wi' the fray, 
 
 Altho' it is our bridal day. 
 But fear not lassie I dinna fear, 
 
 Wraiig not our bridal wi' a tear, 
 Nor damp my spirits wi' despair, 
 
 "VV'e soon shall meet to part nae mair. 
 
 For if we win the victory, 
 
 I'll share my laurels here with thee ; 
 An' if thy Donald should be slain, 
 
 He'll meet the love in heaven again ! 
 Then fear not lassie ; &c. 
 
 Burns* 
 
 ISLE OF ST. HELENA. 
 
 F.ona's awa' fra' his wan and his fighting, 
 And he's gone to the place that he ne'er took delight in; 
 He may sit down and tell of the scenes he has seen a', 
 And forlorn he may mourn on the isle of St. Helena. 
 No more at St. Cloud's he'll appear in mild splendour, 
 Nor go forth with his crowds like th' great Alexander, 
 He may sigh to the moon by the great mount Diana, 
 With his eyes o'er the waves that surround St. Helena. 
 
 I.ousia she weeps for her husband departed, 
 
 She dreams while asleep, and awakes broken hearted; J 
 
 Not a friend to condole nor one that bewails her, 
 
 She mourns when she thinks on the Isle of StHelena.1 
 
MINSTREL. 3*5 
 
 All you of groat wealth, beware of ambition, 
 Some decree of fate may soon change your condition- 
 Be ye stedfast in time, for what's comin' ye ken na\ 
 Your days may perhaps end on the Isle of St. Helena. 
 
 'SQUIRE AND HODGE, 
 As 'cross the field, the other morn, 
 
 I tripp'd so blithe and gay, 
 The 'squire with his dog and gun, 
 
 By chance came by that way. 
 Whither so fast, sweet maid ? he cry'd, 
 
 And caught me round the waist : 
 Pray stop awhile— Dear Sir, said I, 
 
 I can't for I'm in hast. 
 
 You must not go as yet, cried he, 
 
 For I have much to say ; 
 Come, sit you down, and let us chat 
 
 Upon this new mown-hay.— 
 I've lov'd you long, and oft have wish'd 
 
 Those ruby lips to taste ; 
 I'll have a kiss— Well, then said I, 
 
 Be quick, for I'm in hast. 
 
 Just as I spoke, I saw young Hodge 
 
 Come through a neighb'ring gate : 
 He caught my hand, and cry'd dear girl, 
 
 I fear I've made you wait ; 
 But here's the ring, come let's to church. 
 
 The joys of love to taste— 
 I left the 'squire, and, laughing, cry'd, 
 
 You see, Sir, I'm in haste. 
 
35*5 MINSTREL. 
 
 I'D RATHER BE EXCUSED. 
 
 Returning from the fair one eve, 
 
 Across yon verdant plain, 
 Young Harry said he'd see me home— 
 
 A tight and comely swain : 
 He begg'd I would a fairing take, 
 
 And would not be refus'd-, 
 Then ask'd a kiss— I blush'd, and cry'd, 
 
 I'd rather be excus'd. 
 
 You're coy, said he, my pretty maid ; 
 
 I mean no harm, I swear ! 
 Long time I have in secret sigh'd 
 
 For you my charming fair : 
 But, if my tenderness oifend, 
 
 And if my love's refus'd, 
 I'll leave you— What, alone ? cried I ; 
 
 I'd rather be excus'd. 
 
 He press'd my hand, and on we walk'd ; 
 
 He warmly urg'd his suit : 
 But still, to all he said, I was 
 
 Most obstinately mute. 
 At length, got home, he angry cry'd, 
 
 My fondness is abus'd ; 
 Then die a maid— indeed, said I, 
 
 I'd rather be excus'd 
 
 FINIS. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 A Cobler lived in York - 
 
 Alone on the banks of the dark rolling Danube 
 
 Ah I when shall we three meet like them 
 
 Ah I say sweet bird how long 
 
 Around the fair Isle the wild birds sing 
 
 As down the Burn they took their way 
 
 A Boat danced on Clyde's bonny stream 
 
 All that's bright must fade 
 
 At the sign of the horse ... 
 
 And has she then faiPd in her truth - 
 
 At my sweet home in our village 
 
 All in the Downs the fleet lay moor-d 
 
 At mornings dawn the hunters rise 
 
 A glass is good and a lass is good 
 
 At dawn of day when other folks 
 
 And ye shall walk in silk attire 
 
 Assist me ye lads who have hearts 
 
 A flaxen headed Cowboy 
 down a green valley their liv"d 
 sk me who is singing here 
 11 hail to the morning - 
 id me ye piting powers • 
 
 h ! soldiers of Britain your merciless doings 
 s down on Banna's banks I stray'd 
 V liighland lad my love was born 
 'mention pray give while of hobbies I sing 
 
 Page. 
 
 - l 
 
 5' 
 
 57 
 
 100 
 
 104 
 133 
 137 
 188 
 
 152 
 
 165 
 213 
 
ir INDEX. 
 
 Page 
 
 Ah ! pooh botheration ----- 323 
 
 Ah! sweet were the moments - 329 
 
 And they may say thy long dark hair • - 334 
 
 As beautiful Kitty 342 
 
 As 'cross the fields the other mom - 355 
 
 Bid me discourse I will enchant - - - 16 
 
 Believe me if all those endearing young charms 18 
 
 Back side Albany stand lake Champlain - 28 
 
 Be mine dear maid this faithful heart - - 32 
 Bright Chantileer proclaims the dawn 5$ 
 
 Ben Backstay was our boatswain - - - 59 
 
 Bright Phoebus has mounted the chariot pf day - 92 
 
 Ey the side of yon streamlet, &c. - - - 129 
 
 Bonnie lassie will ye' gang ? 172 
 
 Behave yoursel' before fo|k r 293 
 
 Blow high blow low ? - r 301 
 
 Barney Bodkin broke his nose - - - 306 
 
 Behold in his soft expressive face - 309 
 
 Bound 'prentice to a waterman - - - 353 j 
 
 Come each gallant lad - r <? r - 121 
 
 Come take the harp - - - - - r 171 
 
 Come hither thou beautiful rover •? -. 
 Come rest in this bosom - - ■? - 
 Come listen to my story - - - - 
 
 Come, come, bonny lassie, cried Sandy away 
 
 Come let us prepare ------ noj 
 
 Cease, O ! cease to tempt - - - - - 14 
 
 Contented I am, and contented I'll be 
 
 Columbia sons at sea - 
 
 Come muster my lads - - - - 
 
 Contented we' little and canty wi' mair 
 
INDEX. T 
 
 Dear harp of my country in darkness I found thee 13 
 
 Deserted by the waning moon 24 
 
 Dame Durd<n k< pt five servant girls - - 25 
 
 Da\s of absence sad and dieary ... 41 
 
 Deep in my breast the rosy tyrant dwells - 65 
 
 Deep in a vale a cottage stood - - 70 
 
 Down in the valley my father dwells 73 
 
 Dear Kathleen you no doubt - - - - 85 
 
 Dear Nancy I've sail'd the world all 'round - 83 
 
 Dear Erin, how sweetly thy green bosom rises - 119 
 
 Dear Tom this brown jug which, &.c. - - KM 
 
 Down in yon village 177 
 
 Dear is my little native vale - ' 
 
 Drink to me only with thine* yes ... 205 
 
 Dear maid by every hope of bliss - - - 210 
 
 Did you ne'er here a tule - - - - - 23 4 
 
 E're around the huge oak, Sec. - - - - 138 
 
 E're sorrow taught my tears to flow - - - 2 S3 
 
 Follow follow through the s< a IS 
 
 Flow g.ntly sweet Afton 3' 
 
 Far far o'er hill and dale 43 
 
 Flow on thou shining river 8'J 
 
 Fly not yet, 'tis just the hour .... 107 
 
 Fly from the world, oh ! Etssy to me - - 103 
 
 From the white blossoBi'd sloe 
 
 Forlorn among the highland hills 
 
 Forbid it land heaven - 204 
 
 From mom till night 
 
 Faint and wearily the way-worn traveller - 217 
 
 Fair Sally once the village pride ... 120 
 
 Fashion's all fiddle de-dee %3Q 
 
ri INDEX. 
 
 Page 
 
 Farewel to Lochaber ------ 328 
 
 For England when with fav'ring gale - - 340 
 
 Go my love nor believe that your Claribela - 10 
 
 Gin a body meet a body ----- 120 
 
 Glowing with love on fire for fame - - -129 
 
 Go where glory waits thee - . - - 261 
 
 Green grow the rashes, O - - 267 
 
 Give Isaac the nymph ----- 268 
 
 Gaily sounds the Castanet ----- 296 
 
 Glorious Apollo ------ 324 
 
 Good night and joy be w? ye a' - - - 327 
 
 Ke was fam'd for deeds of arms - - - 5 
 
 Hail liberty supreme delight - - - - 5 
 
 Here aw a there awa wandering Willie 8 
 
 Here markthe poor desolate maid 37 
 
 His couch was his shroud ----- 48 
 Here a sheer hulk lies poor Tom Bowling 
 
 How sweet at close of silent eve - - - 67 
 Here awa, there awa, here awa, Willie 
 How happy is the peasant's lot - 
 
 Hail to the chief now he's wet through, &c. - 125 
 
 T ere we met too soon to part - - - 149 
 
 Hail masoniy thou craft divine - - - 150 
 
 Hew liappy the soldier ----- 171 
 
 How sweet are the flowers 181 
 
 Had I a heart for falsehood framed - - - 200 
 
 Honest William, an easy and goodnatur'd - - 210 
 
 Here's to the maiden of bashful fifteen - - 216 
 
 Here are catches songs and glees ... 254 
 
 Hey the dusty miller 282 j 
 
 Hark the muffled drum 307 I 
 
INDEX. 
 
 How dear to this heart 
 
 Hark the vesper hymn 
 
 Here then we part for ever 
 
 Here full of sears lies poor Hal Brazen 
 
 How blest the life a sailor leads 
 
 He comes from the w ars 
 
 Here's a health to all true lasses 
 
 In my cottage near a wood 
 I come from a land far awa' 
 I will na' marry any mon - 
 I have kissed and I've prattled 
 1 have lov'd thee dearly lov'd thee 
 I give thee all I can no more 
 In a post office bred 
 If I had a beau for a soldier who'd go 
 1 knew by the smoke 
 Is there a heart that never lov'd 
 In Derrj -down-dale when I wanted a n 
 In storms when clouds obscure the sky 
 In Ireland so friskey 
 I've liv'd a life of some few years 
 In airy dreams soft fancy flies 
 In the conjugal chain firmly tied 
 I've wander'd through that Indian land 
 In the world's crooked path 
 In Dundee there liv'd a carl 
 I've been roaming, I've been roamiog 
 , I'm a wild Irish boy - 
 In a chariot of light - 
 If a body meet a body 
 I'd mourn the hopes that leave me 
 If not with thee I'm blest 
 
vni 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 I'll to court among all the nobility 
 
 In Chester town a man there dwelt 
 
 I sing the maid of Lodi 
 
 I'm teaz'd to death from morn till night 
 
 I have parks I have grounds 
 
 lam a man of learning - 
 
 I saw thy form in youthful pride 
 
 I saw from the beach - - - - 
 
 Is there for honest poverty - 
 
 I was bom one day when my mother was out 
 
 Judy leads me such a life - 
 
 Lcvt's blind they say, Oh ! never nay 
 
 Love, my Mary dwells with thee 
 
 Let him who sighs in sadness hear 
 
 Lcud roar'd the dreadful thunder 
 
 Let the farmer praise his grounds 
 
 Life's a bumper fill'd by fate - 
 
 Let gay ones and great .... 
 
 Loud and chill was the blast - 
 
 Life let us cherish - 
 
 Leeze me on my soldier love - 
 
 Let Turks triumph let tyrants reign 
 
 Love was once a little boy - 
 
 Let fame sound the trumpet - 
 
 Let Erin remember - - - - 
 
 Page 
 
 - 236 
 
 - 241 
 
 - 252 
 . 266 
 
 - 281 
 
 - 289 
 . 292 
 
 - 300 
 
 - 317 
 
 - 344 
 
 - 169 
 
 - 14 
 . 35 
 • 37 
 
 94 
 
 ■ 142 
 
 - 150 
 
 - 151 
 
 - 161 
 
 ■ 132 
 . 193 
 . 203 
 
 - 225 
 
 ■ 227 
 
 - 297 
 
 'Mid pleasure and palaces though we may roam 
 My highland home where tempests blow - 
 My mam is no more, and my dad's in his grave 
 My friend is the man - 
 
 Malroony's my name I'm a comical boy 
 Mary I believed thee true - 
 
 S3 
 99 
 116 
 
 143 
 205 
 
INDEX. 
 
 Mrs Wattle was a widow 
 
 My thoughts delight to wander 
 
 My name is honest Harry O ! 
 
 blight 
 
 Near Clyde's gay stream 
 
 Now is it not a pity 
 
 Now in her green mantle 
 
 No more I'll court the town bred fair 
 
 Oh ! remember the time in La Mancha's shades . 
 
 O whack Cupid's a mannikin 
 
 Our cot was shelter'd by a wood 
 
 Oh I tis love, 'tis love, 'tis love 
 
 Oh I say can you see by the dawns early light 
 
 Oh swiftly glides the bonny boat 
 
 O Nanny wilt thou gang with me 
 
 Oh the days are gone when beauty 
 
 O Logan, sweetly didst thou glide 
 
 Our bugles sang truce 
 
 O ! who has seen the miller's wife 
 
 O, we're a' noddin 
 
 O'er the trident of neptune, &c. 
 
 O, whistle, and I will come to you my 
 
 O come on some cold rainy day 
 
 Oft in the stilly night 
 
 O weep for the hour 
 
 O why should the girl of my heart 
 
 O Logie of Buchan 
 
 Odds blood what a time for a seaman 
 
 Oh what a row, what a rumpus 
 
 3h ! thou wert born to please me 
 
 )h softly sleep my baby boy 
 
 ), green were the groves 
 
 )'er barren hills andflowry dales 
 
 Page 
 . 238 
 
 - 252 
 
 - 2 4 
 
 lad 
 
 232 
 271 
 
INDEX. 
 
 O hare you not heard of Kate Kearney 
 Our country's like a printing house . 
 Oh ! breathe not his name 
 Of a' the airs the winds can blaw 
 
 Oh ! lady fair 
 
 O when my farm is taken . . . 
 O, the face of brave captain Megan 
 Oh I twine a wreath for me 
 
 Past masters song .... 
 Pretty lady pretty gentleman 
 
 Roy's wife of Aldivalloch 
 
 Rest wean- traveller 
 
 Returning from the fair one eve . 
 
 Swift from the covet the merry pack fled 
 
 Scot's wha ha' with Wallace bled 
 
 Should auld acquaintance be forgot 
 
 Sweetest love I'll ne'er forget thee 
 
 Sae flaxen were her ringlets 
 
 Sleep on, sleep on, my Kathleen dear 
 
 Sure won't you hear what roaring cheer 
 
 Since then I'm doom'd 
 
 Shall I those beauties prize 
 
 Sure mortal man was born to sorrow 
 
 Sweet Anna fra' the sea beach came . 
 
 Silent O Moyle, be the roar of thy waters 
 
 See, brothers see, how the night comes on 
 
 Say have you seen my Arabel 
 
 Stay sweet enchanter of the grove 
 
 St. Patrick was a gentleman 
 
 Smile again ray bonny lassie 
 
 Sailor boy, sailor boy 
 
INDEX. x» 
 
 Page 
 
 The minstrel boy to the war is gone 
 Though the musts ne'er smile by the light, &c. 7 
 
 Tell me babbling echo why .... 8 
 
 The wealthy fool with gold in store ... 11 
 The sea was calm the sky serene ... 15 
 
 The moon was beaming silver bright . . 21 
 
 Twas a keen frosty morn ... 27 
 
 Twas one morn when the wind ... 29 
 
 The scene was more beautiful . . .34 
 
 There came to the beach 53 
 
 Through icy rallies 53 
 
 Thimble's scolding wife lay dead ... 64 
 The young May moon is beaming love . . 65 
 The dusky night rides down the sky . . 68 
 
 To liberty^ enra.ptnr*d sight . . . .91 
 Twas you sir, twas you sir .... 122 
 
 Tom and Jerry's *prn s ..... F28 
 
 The meadows 'ook cheerful the birds asreetly sin^ 137 
 This world is .11 a fleeting show . . .140 
 
 To thy green fields sweet Erin . . . 1-12 
 
 The sun had descended beneath the green wave 145 
 The soldier tired of war's alarms . . . 149 
 
 Twas noon and the reapers reposed on, 8cc. . 157 
 True hearted was he the sad swain of the Yarrow 15k» 
 
 160 
 166 
 168 
 174 
 175 
 179 
 183 
 184 
 185 
 
 Thou favourite of heaven the hope of the brave 
 
 To a shady retreat fair Eiiza 
 
 The sailor boy from his home is gone 
 
 The glasses sparkle on the board 
 
 'Twas summer and softly the breezes . 
 
 Tom Starboard was a lover tine 
 
 There is not in this wide world 
 
 The harp that once through Tara's halls . 
 
 The sun has gone down .... 
 
INDEX. 
 
 The sun sets at night 
 
 Thy cheek is o' the roses hue 
 
 The flowers of the forest 
 
 The pride of the valley is lovely 
 
 The silver moon's enamoured beam 
 
 That love's a tyrant .... 
 
 T was past meridian .... 
 
 Tho' the last glimpse of Erin 
 
 The Catrine woods were yellow seen 
 
 The day returns my bosom burns 
 
 The day was spent the moon 
 
 The lao that I love no lassie shall know 
 
 Thine am I, my faithful fair 
 
 'Twas within a mile of Edinburgh, &c. 
 
 The rose of the valley in spring time, ike. 
 
 Thy cheek my sweet fair 
 
 The savage loves his native shore 
 
 Those evening bells .... 
 
 To a woodmans hut .... 
 
 The morn was blinking . 
 
 There's braw braw lads 
 
 Taste O ! taste this spicy wine 
 
 There was a lady liv'd at Leith 
 
 *Twas at the town of nate Clogheen . 
 
 Then farewell my trim built werry 
 
 The broom bloom'd sae fresh andsae fair 
 
 The smiling morn the breathing spring 
 
 •Tis the last rose of summer 
 
 The streamers were flying 
 
 'Twas autum and round me 
 
 The kiss that he gave 
 
 The lasses fain wad haefrom me 
 
 The sun was set, the sea was calm 
 
INDEX. 
 
 That I have lov'd thee 
 
 Then fare thee well, my own dear love 
 
 The fortune I crave 
 
 The purse proud slave 
 
 The morn unbars. the gates of light 
 
 Tell pretty cousin tell me true 
 
 'Twas business reuqired from Dublin 
 
 Under the greenwood tree 
 
 When a boy Harry Bluff left his friends, &c 
 
 "Whether sailor or not for a moment avast 
 
 When the rose bud of Summer . 
 
 Wilt thou say farewell love 
 
 What airy sounds hovers sweetly round 
 
 When I was a boy in my fathers 
 
 While gazing on the moon's light 
 
 What beauties does Flora 
 
 When Bibo went down 
 
 When first in Lunnun I arriv'd 
 
 When I was at home with my father, &c. 
 
 While the lads of the village 
 
 When I gazed on a beautiful face 
 
 When 1 left thy shores O Naxos 
 
 When the rosy morn appearing 
 
 When nature first salutes the Spring 
 
 What tho' 'tis true I've talk'd of love 
 
 Why does azure deck the sky 
 
 When first I saw my Mary's face 
 
 When Steerwell heard me first impart 
 
 When the blackletter'd list 
 
 When William Tell was doom'd to die 
 
 With martial step the soldiers come • 
 
INDEX. 
 
 With my pipe in one hand 
 
 When Freedom midst the battle's storm 
 
 Willie Wastle dwelt on Tweed 
 
 With helmet on his brow . 
 
 Within yon cottage dwells a maid 
 
 Where shall the lover rest 
 
 We'll dance around we lour 
 
 Wake, dearest, wake ! and again united 
 
 While I hang on your bosom, distracted, cce 
 
 While up the shrouds the sailor goes 
 
 When freshly blows the nothern gale 
 
 Who wadna be in love 
 
 When I first saw the youth 
 
 When nature first began Jean 
 
 When I was a little boy 
 
 When I was an infant 
 
 What's this dull town to me 
 
 While flushing o'er thy olive cheek 
 
 When I was a yonker 
 
 Ye banks and braes of bonnie Down . 
 
 Yes when thou hearest the gentle breeze 
 
 Ye sons of , Columbia v ho bravely have fought 
 
 Ye ling'ring winds that feebly blow 
 
 You've surely heard of famous Niel 
 
 Your laughter I'll try to provoke 
 
 Ye sportsmen draw near 
 
 Young Henry was as brave a youth • 
 
 Ye gallants bright .... 
 
 Ye sons of Columbia .... 
 
J 
 
X 
 
■ 
 
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