The Mountaineer's Song.

Composed for "THE AMERICAN MINSTREL."

Oh, talk not to me of the " West" and its rivers— Its valleys retiring the forests' gloom throughIts lakes, in whose bosoms the summer sun quivers, Reflecting a sky ever smiling and new.

Tho' fair be thy streams which flash through the wildwood,

And rich are thy valleys, and sunny thy skiesThe scenes that encompass the home of my childhood, Tho' less bright their aspect, more dearly I prize. Soft, soft is the South, as it sighs o'er thy flowers, Or noiselessly ripples the slumbering fount; And cool are the shades of thy vine-trellic'd bowers, Like Eden spots glowing on hill side and mount. They are bright-they are fair-but give me the mountains,

That rush in magnificence on the clear sky;

Tho' dark be the gush of their pine-cover'd fountains, And rugged the glens where the covert deer lie.

Broad, broad are thy plains where the buffalo grazes, And verdant the emerald swells of their grass;. But the Indian alone treads their difficult mazes,

Or skulks where the prairie-wolves tremblingly pass. There's a splendor aye broods o'er the rush of thy waters,

A sweet song of birds from copse, dingle, and grove; And kind are the hearts of thy gazelle-ey'd daughters, When friendship awakens, and ushers in love.

But mem'ry still clings with its tendrils around thee, And hovers and weeps o'er my childhood's first home;

Too strong are the links which in infancy bound me, To break now, when destiny bids me to roam.

But hark! 'tis the roar of the cataract swelling, O'er cliff, stream, and fountain, thro' brake, gorge, and dell,

Recalling the wanderer to his lone dwelling

So, "beautiful west," fare-thee-well, fare-thee-well!

Dame Durden.

Dame Durden kept five serving girls
To carry the milking-pail;
She also kept five laboring men,
To wield the spade and flail :
'Twas Moll and Bet,

And Doll and Kate,
And Dorothy Draggletail;
And John and Dick,
And Joe and Jack,
And Humphry with his flail;
"Twas John kissed Molly,

And Dick kissed Betty,

And Joe kissed Dolly,

And Jack kissed Kitty,

And Humphry with his flail;
And Kitty she was a charming girl,
To carry the milking-pail.

Dame Durden in the morn so soon,
She did begin to call,

To rouse her servant-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 servant-maids and men

They all began to mate.

"Twas Moll and Bet, &c.

The Lover's Mistake.

As sung by Madame VESTRIS.

A fond youth serenaded his love

Who was sleeping-love never should sleep, Her father was peeping above

Oh! fathers, you never should peep. To his daughter's balcony he brought Her monkey in muslins array'd;

The youth was o'erjoy'd, for he thought

'Twas the form of his beautiful maid, his maid, 'Twas the form of his beautiful maid.

He gaz'd on the figure in white,

Whose nods gave new life to his hopes;
His heart throbb'd with love and delight,
As he threw up the ladder of ropes ;
His charmer hopp'd down it, and then
The happy delusion was o'er !
Girls often meet monkey-like men,

But man ne'er woo'd monkey before, before,
But man ne'er woo'd monkey before.

From the window enjoying the joke,
Her father fear'd danger no more;
And she by the bustle awoke,

Soon made her escape at the door.
"Come, come to your Rosa," she said,

"Unless you prefer my baboon,

And pray let your next serenade

Take place at the full of the moon, the moon, Take place at the full of the moon."

Smalilou,

There was an Irish lad,

Who lov'd a cloister'd nun,

And it made him very sad,
For what was to be done?
He thought it was a big shame,
A most confounded sin,

That she could not get out at all,

And he could not get in:

Yet he went ev'ry day, he could do nothing more,
Yet he went ev'ry day unto the convent door,
And he sung sweetly, Smalilou, smalilou, smalilou,
And he sung sweetly, Smalilou, gramachree, and
Paddy Whack.

To catch a glimpse of her,

He play'd a thousand tricks;

The bolts he tried to stir,

And he gave the wall some kicks :
He stamp'd, he rav'd, and sigh'd, and pray'd,
And many times he swore,

The devil burn the iron bolts !

The devil take the door!

Yet he went ev'ry day, he made it a rule:
Yet he went ev'ry day, and look'd like a fool.
Though he sung sweetly, &c.

One morn she left her bed,

Because she could not sleep,

And to the window sped,

To take a little peep;

And what did she do then?

I'm sure you'll think it right, She bade the honest lad good day, And bade the nuns good night. Tenderly she listen'd to all he had to say, Then jump'd into his arms, and so they ran away. And they sung sweetly, &c.

Hurrah for the Emerald Isle,
As sung by Miss Rock.

There's a health to the friends that are far,
There's a health to our friends that are near,
Here's to those who rank first in the war,

Oh the brave hearts that never knew fear! Here's to him who for freedom first draws, And here's to the heart free from guile, The patriot friend to his home and his laws, Who stands by his own native isle.

Then hurrah for the Emerald Isle !

And here's to the bosom's bright glow,
When the banner of liberty waves;
And here's may she conquer her foe,

Ere the sons of her glory be slaves!
Then here's to the friends all around,
The emblem of Erin's rich soul,

And oh! may they ever, when wanted, be found To stand by their own native isle.

Then hurrah for the Emerald Isle!

Evening Song of the Tyrolese Peasants,
Come to the sun-set tree!
The day is past and gone;
The woodman's axe lies free,
The reaper's work is done.
The twilight star to heaven,

And the summer dew to flowers,

And rest to us is given

By the cool soft evening hours.
Come to the sun-set tree, &c.

Sweet is the hour of rest,

Pleasant the wind's low sigh;

The gleaming of the west,

And the turf whereon we lie.