Made the bells of Sandon
Sound far more rand on

The pleasant waters of the river Lee!

I have heard bells solling “old Adrian's mole" in

But thy sounds were sweeter than the dome of Peter

Flings o'er the Tiber, pealing sol-
emnly!

Oh the bells of Shandon
Sound far more grand on

The pleasant waters of the river Lee!

There's a bell in Moscow, while on tower and kiosko,

In Saint Sophia, the Turkman gets, And loud in air calls men to prayer From the tapering summits of tall minarets.

Such empty phantom I freely grant them;

But there's an anthem more dear to

me

It's the bells of Shandon,

That sound so grand on

The pleass at waters of the river Lee'

TERENCE'S FAREWELL

LADY DUFFERIN.

So, ny Kathleen, you're going to leave me alone by myself in his place;

will

But I'm sure on wi" never deceive me,
O, no, if there's truth in that face.
Though England's a beautiful city,
Full of illigant boys, O what then,
You wouldn't forget your poor Terence!
You'll come back to ould Ireland again.

Oh, those English deceivers by nature,
Though maybe you'd think them sin

cere:

They'll say you're a sweet charming creature,

But don't you believe them, my dear. O, Kathleen, agrah I don't be minding The flattering speeches they'd make; But tell them a poor lad in Ireland

Is breaking his heart for your sake.

It's folly to keep you from going, Though, faith, it's a mighty hard case; For, Kathleen, you know there's no knowing

When next I shall see your swate face. And when you come back to me, Kathleen,

None the better will I be off then; You'll be speaking such beautiful Eng

lish,

Sure I wont know my Kathleen again.

Aye now, where's the need of this hurry!
Dont flusther me so in this way;
I forgot, 'twixt the grief and the flurry,
Every word I was maning to say.
Now just wait a minute, I bid ye;
Can I talk if you bother me so?-
Oh, Kathleen, my blessings go wid ye,
Every inch of the way that you go.

BONNIE DUNDEE.

SIR. W, SCOTT.
Scotch Air.

To the Lords of Couvention 'twas Claverhouse spoke :

"Ere the king's crown go down there, are crowns to be broke ;

So each cavalier, who loves honor and

me,

Let him follow the bonnets o' Bonnie Dundee.

Come, fill up my cup; come fill up my can,

Come, saddle my horses, and call out my men.

Unhook the West Port, and let us gae free

For it's up wi' the bonnets o' Bonnie
Dundee."

Dundee he is mounted-he rides up

the

The bells they ring backward, the drums. they are beat.

But the Provost (douce man) said, "Just e'en let it be ;

For the town is weel rid o' that deil o' Dundee."

Come, fill up my cup, &c.

There are hills beyond Pentland, and lands beyond Forth;

If there are Lords in the South, there are Chiefs in the North.

There are brave Duinhe-wassels, three thousand times three,

Will cry, "Hey! for the bonnets ơ Bonnie Dundee."

Come, fill up my cup, &c.

"Then, awa' to the hills, to the lea, to the rocks!

Ere I own a usurper, I'll crouch wi' the

fox.

And tremble, false Whigs, in the midst o' your glee;

Ye hae nae seen the last o' my bonnets and me."

Come, fill up my cup, &c.

DO THEY MISS ME AT HOME.

GRANNIS.

Do they miss me at home, do they miss me?

"Twould be an assurance most dear, To know that this moment some loved

"

one, Were saying, "I wish he were here; To feel that the group at the fire-side, Were thinking of me as I roam, Oh yes, 'twould be joy beyond measure, To know that they miss me at home To know that they miss me at home.