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Press'd by death, he is sent to the tender beload the l
Where lubbers and seamen must every one god Love Yet the worm, & open'd th
With his frame a mere hulk, and his reck'ning
At last he dropt down to mortality's road,
When I hear the last whistle, I'll jump upon de
Young Love lived once in an humble shed,
For young Hope nourish'd,
Not even Love can live on flow'rs.
Alas! that Poverty's evil eye,
Should e'er come hither,
The flow'rs laid down their heads to die,
And Hope fell sick as the witch drew nigh.
She came one morning,
T THE GE By the gai
by the hol How the
Sons of C
THEART My hea
And rais'd the latch where the young god lay; O ho!' said Love, 'is it you?-Good bye,' So he open❜d the window, and flew away!
BY THE GAILY CIRCLING GLASS.
By the chirping of the thorn,
We foretell the approach of morn,
Let no precious moments slip;
Joys find entrance at the lip.
MY HEART WITH LOVE IS BEATING.
My heart with love is beating,
Could deeds my heart discover,
ECHO, DELIGHTED CRIES HARK, HARK AWAY.
Hark away, my brave boys, to the cry of the hounds,
How blithesome o'er hills and through dale, Sweet Echo, delighted, the music resounds, And wafts it o'er mountain and vale. Mellow sounds the blithe horn
In the morning so gay,
And Echo, delighted, cries hark, hark away!
Then haste, haste away, its the enlivening view hollow,
See reynard breaks covert and flies,
The hounds true to scent his track quickly fol
low, And loud tallyhe's rend the skies. Mellow sounds, &c.
Then leave to dull care all the sons of the day, Let them labour and toil, while we follow The sweet swelling cry of the musical hound, And the view of the huntsman's sweet hollow. Mellow sounds, &c.
Loose, loose every sail to the breeze,
Ye sailors! I'm bound to my love.
My griefs I fling all to the wind,
What tropic bird swifter can move!
That turns to the nest of his love. Hoist, hoist every sail to the breeze,
Come shipmates, and join in the song, Let's drink while the ship cuts the seas, To the gale that may drive her along.
Wherever I'm going, and all the day long,
Sing Ballinamona era,
A kiss of your sweet lips for me.
Since first time I saw you I take no repose,
Sing Ballinamona ora,
In my conscience I fear I shall die in my grave, Unless you comply, and poor Phelim do save, And grant the petition your lover does crave, Who never was free till you made him your slave. Sing Ballinamona ora,
Your pretty black eyes for me.
On that happy day when I made you my bride, With a swinging long sword how I'll strut and I'll stride,
In a coach and six horses with honey I'll ride,
THE MORN, IN RUSSET MANTLE CLAD. "The morn in russet mantle clad,
Walks o'er the dew of yonder hill:"
The hunter gay,