I might hail thee with prouder, with happier


But, oh! could I love thee more deeply than now?

No, thy chains as they torture thy blood as it


But, make thee more painfully dear to thy sonsWhose hearts, like the young of the desert-bird's nest,

Drink love in each life-drop that flows from thy breast!


AIR-Noran Kitsa.

WREATH the bowl

With flow'rs of soul,

The brightest Wit can find us;

We'll take a flight

Tow'rds heav'n to-night

And leave dull earth behind us!

Should Love amid

The wreaths be hid

That Joy th' enchanter brings us,

No danger fear,

While wine is near,

We'll drown him if he stings us.

Then, wreath the bowl

With flow'rs of soul,

The brightest Wit can find us ;

We'll take a flight,

Tow'rds heav'n to night,

And leave dull earth behind us!

'Twas nectar fed

Of old, 'tis said,

Their Junos, Joves, Apollos,

And man may brew

His nectar too,

The rich receipt's as follows:

Take wine like this,

Let looks of bliss

Around it well be blended,

Then bring Wit's beam

To warm the stream,

And there's your nectar, splendid! So, wreath the bowl, etc.

Say, why did Time

His glass sublime

Fill up with sands unsightly,

When wine he knew

Runs brisker through

And sparkles far more brightly.

Oh, lend it us,

And, smiling thus,

The glass in two we'd sever,

Make pleasure glide

In double tide,

And fill both ends for ever!

Then, wreath the bowl, etc.


AIR-Father Quinn.

WHENE'ER I see those smiling eyes,

All fill'd with hope, and joy, and light,

As if no cloud could ever rise,

To dim a heav'n só purely brightI sigh to think how soon that brow In grief may lose its every ray, And that light heart so joyous now, Almost forget it once was gay.

For Time will come with all his blights,

The ruin'd hope-the friend unkindAnd love who leaves, where'er he lights, A chill'd or burning heart behind! And youth, that like pure snow appears, Ere sullied by the dark'ning rain, When once 'tis touch'd by sorrow's tears. Will never shine so bright again!


AIR-The Winnowing Sheet.

If thou❜lt be mine, the treasures of air,
Of earth, and sea shall lie at thy feet;
Whatever in Fancy's eye looks fair
Or in Hope's sweet music sounds most sweet
Shall be curs, if thou wilt be mine, love!

Bright flow'rs shall bloom where'er we rove,
A voice divine shall talk in each stream,
The stars shall look like worlds of love,
And this earth be all one beautiful dream

In our eyes, if thou wilt be mine, love i

And thoughts, whose source is hidden and high,
Like streams that flow from heaven-ward hills,
Shall keep our hearts, like meads, that lie
To be bathed by those eternal rills,
Ever green, if thou wilt be mine, love!

All this and more the Spirit of Love

Can breathe o'er them, who feel his spells; That heaven, which forms his home, above, He can make, on earth, wherever he dwells, As thou'lt own, if thou wilt be mine, love!


AIR-Fague a Bullagh.

To Ladies' eyes around, boy,
We can't refuse, we can't refuse,
Though bright eyes so abound, boy,
'Tis hard to chuse, 'tis hard to chuse.

For thick as stars that lighten

Yon airy bow'rs, yon airy bow'rs, The countless eyes that brighten

This earth of ours, this earth of ours,

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