The lark sweetly pouring his lay to the morn,
The thrush hymning soft thro' the grove;
The linnet sweet warbling amid the green thorn,
Can charm every bosom to love.

With life's early ties, in our bosom are bound
These scenes deeply etch'd on its core;
And graceful to guard them, are woven around,
The deeds of thy glowing claymore.

Then here's to auld Caledon's bright-gleaming blade,
To freedom and bravery so true;

And here's to thy light-waving gay tartan plaid,
And "hurrah for the bonnets of blue."

Love thee, dearest,

Love thee, dearest, love thee,
Yes-by yonder star I swear,
Which thro' tears above thee,
Shines so sadly fair.

Tho' too oft dim,

With tears like him,

Like hin my truth will shine;
And love thee, dearest, love thee!
Yes-till death I'm thine.

Leave thee, dearest, leave thee!
No-that star is not more true;
When my vows deceive thee,
He will wander too.

A cloud of night

May veil his light,

And death shall darken mine,
But leave thee, dearest, leave thee!

No-till death I'm thine.

Twilight Dews,

When twilight dews are falling fast
Upon the rosy sea,

I watch that star whose beam so oft
Has lighted me to thee;

And thou too on that orb so dear,
Ah! dost thou gaze at even,
And think tho' lost for ever here,
Thou'lt yet be mine in heaven!

There's not a garden walk I tread,
There's not a flower I see,
But brings to mind some hope that's fled,
Some joy I've lost with thee;
And still I wish that hour was near,
When, friends and foes forgiven,
The pains, the ills we've wept thro' here
May turn to smiles in heaven!

To Day, Dearest, is ours,

To day, dearest, is ours,

Why should love carelessly lose it? This life shines or lours,

Just as we, weak mortals, use it. "Tis time enough, when its flowers decay, To think of the thorns of scrrow; And joy, if left on the stem to-day, May wither before to-morrow.

Then why, dearest! so long

Let the sweet moments fly over? Tho' now, blooming and young,

Thou hast me devoutly thy lover, Yet time from both in his silent lapse Some treasure may steal or borrow; Thy charms may be less in bloom perhaps, Or I less in love to-morrow.

Alice Gray.

She's all my fancy painted her,
She's lovely! she's divine!
But her heart is another's,

She never can be mine;
Yet lov'd I, as man ne'er lov'd,
A love without decay,
Oh! my heart is breaking

For the love of Alice Gray.

Her dark brown hair is braided
O'er a brow of spotless white,
Her soft blue eye now languishes,
Now flashes with delight.
The hair is braided not for me,
The eye is turned away,

Yet my heart, my heart is breaking,
For the love of Alice Gray.

For her I'd climb the mountain side,
For her I'd stem the flood-
For her I'd dare the battle strife,
Tho' I seal'd it with my blood.
By night I'd watch her slumbers,
And tend her steps by day-
But scorn'd is the heart that's breaking
For the love of Alice Gray.

I've sank beneath the summer's sun,
And trembled in the blast,
But my pilgrimage is nearly done,
The heavy conflict's past.

And when the green sod wraps my grave,

May pity haply say,

'Oh! his heart was broken

For the love of Alice GraTM

M

The harp that once thro' Tara's halls.

AIR-Gramachree.

The harp that once thro' Tara's halls,

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 praise,
Now feel that pulse no more.

No more to chiefs and ladies bright,
The harp of Tara swells;

The chord alone, that breaks at night,
Its tale of ruin tells.

Thus freedom now so seldom wakes;
The only throb she gives,

Is when some heart indignant breaks,
To show that still she lives.

Take heed! whisper low.

Behold! how brightly breaks the morning,
Tho' bleak our lot, our hearts are warm;
To toil inured, all danger scorning,

We'll hail the breeze or brave the storm.
Put off, put off, our course we know,
Take heed, whisper low :

Look out and spread your net with care;
Take heed, whisper low-

The prey we seek we'll soon ensnare.

Away! no cloud is low'ring o'er us,
Freely now we'll stem the wave:
Hoist, hoist all sail, while full before us,
Hope's beacon shines to cheer the brave.
Put off, put off, our, &c.

Smile again, my bonnie Lassie.
Smile again my 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,

Thus to use me so severely

Is not kind in thee.

Smile again, &c.

Fare-thee-well, my bonnie lassie,
Lassie, fare-ye-well,

Time will show thee, bonnie lassie,
More than tongue can tell.
Though we're doom'd by fate to sever,
(And 'tis hard to part)

Still, believe me, thou shalt ever

Own my faithful heart.

Then, smile again, &c.

Rest! Warrior, rëst.

As sung by Miss KELLY.

He comes from the wars, from the red field of fight;
He comes thro' 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!

Sunk in silence and sleep in 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.