Far better lights shall win me, And pure smiles from thee at home Thus, when the lamp that lighted And looks round in fear and doubt. But soon, the prospect clearing, TYROLESE EVENING HYMN. COME to the sunset tree! The day is past and gone; In the cool refreshing bowers. Sweet is the hour of rest, Pleasant the wind's low sigh The gleaming of the west, mn And the turf whereon we lie. The tired one at his door. Yes, tuneful is the sound m That dwells in whispering boughs; Welcome the freshness round, And the gale that fans our brows. Then though the wind an altered tone Through the young foliage bear, Though every flower of something gone, A tinge may wear ; Come to the sunset tree, &c. A WET SHEET AND A FLOWING SEA. A wet sheet! and a flowing sea, Away our good ship flies, and leaves Oh, give me a wet sheet, a flowing sea, And a wind that follows fast, And fills the white and rustling sail, And bends the gallant mast. For a soft and gentle wind, I heard a fair one cry; But give to me the roaring breeze, And white waves heaving high, my boys, The good ship tight and free; The world of waters is our home, Oh, give me, &c There's tempest in yon horned moon, The wind is piping loud, my boys! While the hollow oak our palace is. Oh, give me &c. 《《《་《《 V《ངང《《 'TIS GONE, AND FOR EVER. AIR-Savournah Deelish. 'Tis gone, and for ever, the light we saw breaking Like heaven's first dawn o'er the sleep of the dead, When man, from the slumber of ages awaking, Look'd upward and bless'd the pure ray ere it fled. 'Tis gone, and the gleams it has left of its burning, But deepen the long night of bondage and mourning, That dark o'er the kingdoms of earth is returning, And darkest of all, hapless Erin! o'er thee. For high was thy hope, when those glories were darting Around thee, through all the gross clouds of the world; When Truth, from her fetters indignantly starting, At once, like a sun-burst her banner unfurl'd. Oh! never shall earth see a moment so splendid! Then, then, had one hymn of deliverance blended The tongues of all nations, how sweet had ascended The first note of liberty, Erin! from thee. But, shame on those tyrants, who envied the blessing! And shame on their light race, unworthy its good, Who, at death's reeking altar, like furies caressing The young hope of freedom, baptizea it in blood! Then vanish'd for ever that fair, sunny vision, Which, spite of the slavish, the cold heart's derision, Shall long be remembered, pure, bright, and elysian As first it arose, my lost Erin! on thee. |