Oh, come with me.
As sung by Mr. SINCLAIR.

Oh, come with me, I'll row thee o'er
Yon blue and peaceful sea;
And while I gently ply the oar,
Renew my vows to thee;
I'll bid thee gaze beneath thee,
On each reflected star;
Then think my soul reflects thee
As true, but brighter far,

Then come with me, &c.

O! could I count the stars above
The wild waves' ceaseless swell,
My deep, my pure, my boundless love
To thee I could not tell.

As soon the stars may cease to rise,
The waves forget to flow,

Ere my fond heart forget its sighs,
And cease to love thee-no!
Then come with me, &c.

I saw from the Reach.

AIR-Miss Molly.

I saw from the beach, when the morning was shi

ning,

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 spring-tide of joy we have known: Each wave that we danc'd on at morning ebbs from us,

And leaves us, at eve, on the bleak shore alone!

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 through his frame;

And his soul, like the wood, that grows precious in burning,

Gave out all its sweets to love's exquisite flame.

O saw ye the Lass wi' the bonnie
Blue Een.

As sung by Mr. SINCLAIR.

O saw ye the lass wi' the bonnie blue een?
Her smile is the sweetest that ever was seen,
Her cheek like the rose is, but fresher, I ween;
She's the loveliest lassie that trips on the green.
The home of my love is below in the valley,
Where wild flowers welcome the wandering bee;
But the sweetest of flowers in that spot that is seen,
Is the maid that I love, wi' the bonnie blue een.
O saw ye the lass, &c.

When night overshadows her cot in the glen,
She'll steal out to meet her lov'd Donald again;
And when the moon shines on the valley so green,
I'll welcome the lass wi' the bonnie blue een.
As the dove that has wandered away from his nest,
Returns to the mate his fond heart loves the best,
I'll fly from the world's false and vanishing scene,
To my dear one, the lass wi' the bonnie blue een.
O saw ye the lass, &c.

Come, Rest in this Bosom.

Come, rest in this bosom, my own stricken deer! Though the herd have fled from thee, thy home is still 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! what was love made for, if 'tis not the same
Thro' joy and thro' torments, thro' glory and shame?
I knew not, I ask 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, or perish there too.

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 tears of boyhood's hears,
The words of love then spoken,

The eyes that shone, now dimm'd and gone,
The cheerful hearts now broken!

Thus in the stilly night, &c.

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 departed.

Thus in the stilly night, &c.

My Bark is upon the deep, Love.
My bark is upon the deep, love,

My comrades impatient call,

Awake, while the fairies sleep, love,
Awake thee! more bright than all.
Awake! awake! Rosalia dear, awake.

The sun may dry up the tear, love,
That hangs on the drooping flower,
But cold will its rays appear, love,
Away from my lady's bower.
But cold, &c.

Awake! for yon splashing oar, love,
Its diamonds now throws to light,
And faint from the distant shore, love,
My summons comes over the night.
And faint, &c.

I go but ere yonder star, love,
Shall set in the mighty sea,

Thy Carlos shall seek the war, love,
To gather its wreaths for thee.

Farewell! farewell! farewell!
Rosalia, love; farewell!

This Life is all Checker'd.

AIR-The Bunch of green Rushes.

This life is all checker'd with pleasures and woes, That chase one another like waves of the deep, Each billow, as brightly or darkly it flows,

Reflecting our eyes as they sparkle or weep. So closely our whims on our miseries tread, That the laugh is called up ere the tear can be dried;

And as fast as the rain-drop of pity is shed,

The goose plumage of folly can turn it aside.

But pledge me the cup, if existence would cloy,
With hearts ever happy and heads ever wise,
Be ours the light grief that is sister to joy,

And the short brilliant folly, that flashes and dies.

When Hylas was sent with his urn to the fount, Thro' fields full of sunshine, with heart full of play,

Light rambled the boy over meadow and mount,

And neglected his task for the flowers on the way. Thus some who, like me, should have drawn, and have tasted

That fountain that runs by philosophy's shrine, Their time with the flowers on the margin have wasted,

And left their light urns all as empty as mine. But pledge me the goblet-while idleness weaves Her flow'rets together, if wisdom can see

One bright drop or two, that has fall'n on the leaves From her fountain divine, 'tis sufficient for me.

4

Honi soit qui mal y pense.

Honi soit qui mal y pense,

English knights their motto bear,
Candor claims the same pretence,
For our France, and for our fair ;
Then wherefore frown and look severely?
Chase thy sullens, dismal swain,
List the speech that flows sincerely,
List and trust, then smile again.
How! still that frown of awful sense?
Ah! honi soit qui mal y pense,
Honi soit qui mal y pense;

English knights their motto bear,
Candor claims the same pretence,
For our France, and for our fair.