THOUGH THE LAST GLIMPSE OF

ERIN.

sorrow

Though the last glimpse of Erin with

I

see, Yet wherever thou art shall seem Erin

to me : In exile, thy bosom shall still be my

home, And thine eyes be my climate, wherever

we roam.

To the gloom of some desert, or cold,

rocky shore, Where the eye of the stranger can

haunt us no more, I will fly with my Coulin, and think

the rough wind Less rude than the foes we left frown

ing behind. And I'll gaze on thy gold hair, as

graceful it wreathes, And hang o'er thy soft harp, as wildly

it breathes ; Nor dread that the cold-hearted Saxon

will tear One chord from that harp, or one lock

from that hair.

THE HUNTSMAN'S CHORUS.

What equals on earth the delight of

the huntsman ? For whom does life's cup more en

chantingly flow? To follow the stag through the forests

and meadows, When brightly the beams of the

morning first glow Oh, this is pleasure that's worthy of

princes, And health in its wanderings can

ever be found; When echoing caverns and forests

surround us,

More blithely the pledge of the goblet will sound.

Hark, follow, &c. The light of Diana illumines our forests, The shades where in summer we

often retreat ; Nor is then the fell wolf in its covert

securest, The boar from his lair is laid at our feet.

Oh, this is pleasure, &c.

DASHING WHITE SERGEANT

no ?

lf I had a beau
For a soldier who'd go,
Do
you
think I'd

say
No, no, not I:
When his red coat I saw,
Not a sigh would it draw,
But I'd give him eclat

For his bravery.
If an army of dragoons e'er came in

play, As a dashing white sergeant I'd march

away.
When my soldier was gone,
Do
you

think I'd take on
Sit moping, forlorn ?

No, no, not I;
His fame my concern
How
my

bosom would burn,
When I saw him return,

Crowned with victory. lf an army of Amazons e'er came in

play As a dashing white sergeant I'd inarch

away.

ALL'S WELL. Deserted by the waning munn, When skies proclaim night's cheerless

noon, On tower, or fort, or tented ground, The sentry walks his lonely round; And should a footstep haply stray, Where caution marks the guarded

wayWho goes there ? stranger, quickly tell ; A friend ! the word ? good night! all's

.well ! Or sailing on the midnight deep, While weary messmates soundly sleep, The careful watch patroles the deck, To guard the ship from foes or wreck And while the thoughts oft homeward

veer Some well-known voice salutes his

earWhat cheer? ho, brother, quickly tell Above ! below! good night! all's well

HOW DEAR TO ME THE HOUR.

AIR-The twisting of the rope. How dear to me the hour when day.

light dies, And sunbeams melt along the silent

sea :

For then sweet dreams of other days

arise, And memory breathes her vesper

sigh to thee. And as I watch the line of light that

plays Along the smooth wave toward the

burning west, I long to tread that golden path of rays, And think twould lead to somo

bright isle of rest.
As love's young dream!

THEY DON'T PROPOSE.

It's really very singular

I can not make it out;
I've many beaux, yet none propose,
What! what! are they about?