William Tell.

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 march'd with grief and dread!
The warrior came serene and mild,

Gaz'd all around with dauntless look,
Till his fond boy unconscious smil'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!"
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! the hero of the lakes.

Farewell to Lochaber.

Farewell to Lochaber, and farewell my Jean,
Where heartsome with thee I ha'e mony days been;
For Lochaber no more, Lochaber no more,
We'll may-be return to Lochaber no more.
These tears that I shed they are a' for my dear,
And no for the dangers attending on weir;
Tho' borne on rough seas to a far bloody shore,
May-be to return to Lochaber no more.

Tho' hurricanes rise, and raise ev'ry wind,
They'll ne'er make a tempest like that in my mind;
Tho' loudest of thunder 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 love's the reward of the brave;
And I maun deserve it before I can crave.

Then glory, my Jeany, maun plead my excuse,
Since honor 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.

I gae then, my lass, to win glory and fame;
And if I should chance to come gloriously hame,
I'll bring a heart to thee with love running o'er,
And then I'll leave thee and Lochaber no more.

Go, my Love.

A Rondo-As sung by Miss KELLY.

Go, my love! nor believe that your Claribel's heart, For a moment will ask you to stay;

When the stern voice of honor 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 honor or courage prevail,
Yet fears for your safety are there.

Go, my love! though my heart may beat quick,
When I hear of the dangers and heat of the fight;
Yet believe me, each pulse that now flutters with
fear,

Soon will change to the throb of delight.

I was the Boy for Bewitching 'em.

I was the boy for bewitching 'em,.
Whether good-humor'd or coy,

All cried when I was beseeching 'em,
"Do what you will with me, joy."
"Daughters be cautious and steady,"
Mammies would cry out of fear,
"Won't you take care now of Teddy?
Oh! he's the devil, my dear!"
For I was the boy for bewitching 'em, &c.

From every quarter I gather'd 'em,
Very few rivals had I;
If I found any, I lather'd 'em,
That made 'em plaguily shy.

Pat Mooney my Shelah once meeting,
I twigg'd him beginning his clack;
Says he," at my heart I've a beating :"
Says I," then take one at your back."
For I am the boy for bewitching 'em, &c.

Many a lass that would fly away,
When other wooers but spoke,
Once if I look'd her a die-away,
There was an end of the joke.
Beauties, no matter how cruel,

Hundreds of lads tho' they cross'd,
When I came nigh to them, jewel,
Melted like mud in a frost.

For I was the boy for bewitching 'em, &c.

Blue-eyed Mary.

Come, tell me, blue-ey'd stranger,
Say, whither dost thou roam?
O'er this wide world a ranger,
Hast thou no friends or home?

They call'd me blue-ey'd Mary,
When friends and fortune smil'd;

But ah! how fortunes vary,

I now I'm sorrow's child.

Come here, I'll buy thy flowers,
And ease thy hapless lot,
Still wet with waning showers,
I'll buy, forget me not.

Kind sir, then take these posies,
They're fading like my youth,
But never, like these roses,
Shall wither Mary's truth.

Look up, thou poor forsaken,
I'll give thee house and home,
And if I'm not mistaken,

Thou'lt never wish to roam.

Once more I'm happy Mary,
Once more has fortune smil'd;
Who ne'er from virtue vary,
May yet be fortune's child.

There's a Bliss.

There's a bliss beyond all that the minstrel has told,
When two, that are link'd in one heavenly tie,
With heart never changing, and brow never cold,
Love on through all ills, and love on till they die!

One hour of a passion so sacred is worth
Whole ages of heartless and wandering bliss;
And oh! if there be an Elysium on earth,
It is this, it is this.

Oh! am I then Remembered,
Oh am I then remember'd still?
Remember'd too by thee!

Or am I quite forgot by one
Whom I no more shall see?
Yet say not so, for that would add
Fresh anguish to my lot.

I dare not hope to be recall'd-
Yet would not be forgot.

Had they who parted us but known
How hearts like ours can feel,
They would have spared us both a pang
Beyond their power to heal.

I know not if thy heart retains

Its wonted warmth or not:
Though I'm forbid to think of thee—
Thou'lt never be forgot.

May'st thou enjoy that peace of mind
Which I can never know;
If that's denied, my prayer shall be,
That I may share thy wo.
Where'er thou art, my every wish
Will linger o'er that spot;
My every thought will be of thee,
Though I may be forgot.

If we should meet in after years,
Thou'lt find that I am changed:

My eyes grown dim, my cheek grown pale,
But not my faith estranged.
From memory's page the hand of death
Alone thy name shall blot;

Forget, forsake me, if thou wilt

Thou'lt never be forgot.