And left, one morning early, Loch Lomond Ben, And the willow glen, And Jean, who loved him dearly. He wander'd east, he wander'd south, The bonny north To cherish late and early; Loch Lomond Ben, And the willow glen, And Jean, who loved him dearly. THE SHAMROCK. AIR-Alley Croker. THROUGH Erin's isle, As Love and Valour wander'd,. Whose quiver bright A thousand arrows squander'd; A tripple grass Shoots up, with dew-drops streaming, As softly green, Through purest crystal gleaming. Oh! the shamrock-the green, immor tal shamrock! Chosen leaf Of bard and chief, Old Erin's native shamrock! Says Valour, "See! But Wit perceives The triple leaves, And cries, "Oh! do not sever Three godlike friends- Chosen leaf Of bard and chief, Old Erin's native shamrock! THE FIREMAN'S BARCAROLE. AIR-The Barcarole in Massaniello. THE fireman's task is ever glorious— His motives just-his actions brave; And, midst the elements victorious, His only thoughts to dare and save. And when again the State-house bell Shall ring alarm. And sure the point of danger tell, Will fly to save, nor death nor danger fear. When high and bright the fierce fire rages, His fear-proof heart sustains him there; No gold rewards-no hireling wages Impels him hardship's path to dare. And when again, &c. No more, no more the fire is burning, The danger's past, his task is done, Each fireman, to his home returning, Enjoys the rest his toil hath won. And when again, &c RICH AND RARE WERE THE GEMS. AIR-The Summer is coming. RICH and rare were the gems she wore, And a bright gold ring on her wand she bore; But, oh! her beauty was far beyond Her sparkling gems and snow-white wand. "Lady! dost thou not fear to stray, So lone and lovely, through this bleak way? Are Erin's sons so good or so cold, As not to be tempted by woman or gold" "Sir Knight, I feel not the least alarm; No son of Erin will offer me harm: For though they love women and golden store, Sir Knight, they love honour and virtue more." On she went, and her maiden smile isle; And bless'd for ever is she who relied Upon Erin's honour, and Erin's pride. I'D MOURN THE HOPES. AIR-The Rose Tree. I'D mourn the hopes that leave me, But while I've thee before me, No clouds can linger o'er me, 'Tis not in fate to harm me, While fate leaves thy love to me; One minute's dream about thee Of waking bliss without thee, And though the hope be gone, love, Oh! we shall journey on love, |