All you who for maidens are sighing,
Never court them when their frying,
Or like me you'll feel the weight,
Of the pan upon your pate.

OH! 'TIS WINE.

AIR.-Oh! 'tis love.

OH! 'tis wine, 'tis wine, 'tis wine,
In crystal vases gleaming,
Oh! 'tis wine, 'tis wine, 'tis wine,
From our bright goblets streaming.
What yields to mortals pleasure,
What quick dispels their gloom,
Obscures each lucid treasure,
When placed beside its bloom?
Oh! 'tis wine, &c

Oh! 'tis wine, 'tis wine, 'tis wine,
That doth the soul inspire,
Oh! 'tis wine, tis wine, 'tis wine,
That kindles amorous fire.
In grottoes cool and shady,
Where bubbling waters play,
In arbours gay and leafy,
'Tis wine alone holds sway.
Oh! 'tis wine, &c.

THE BRIDAL RING

I DREAMED last night of our early days, Ere to battle I march'd o'er the hea

ther,

When we danced on the heath in the pale moon's rays,

Hand in hand, hand in hand together; Then I thought you gave me again that kiss,

More sweet than the perfume of spring,

While I press'd on your fingers love's pure gold pledge,

This bridal ring—this bridal ring.

I dreamed I heard then the trumpet sound,

And at once was forced to severThat I fell on the heath with my last death wound,

Lost to thee-lost to thee for ever! Then I thought you gave me again that kiss,

Empearl'd like a flow'r in spring; 'Neath its warmth I awoke, on thy dear hand to press

This bridal ring-this bridal ring.

THE EXILE OF ERIN

THERE came to the beach a poor Exile of Erin,

The dew on his thin robe was heavy

and chill;

For his country he sigh'd, when at twilight repairing

To wander alone by the wind-beaten hill.

But the day star attracted his eye's sad devotion,

For it rose on his own native isle of

the ocean,

Where once, in the fire of his youthful emotion,

He sang the bold anthem of Erin go bragh.

Sad is my fate! said the heart-broken stranger,

The wild deer and wolf to a covert can flee,

But I have no refuge from famine and danger,

A home and a country remain not for

me.

Never again, in the green sunny bowers, Where my forefathers liv'd, shall 1 spend the sweet hours,

Or cover my harp with the wild woven flowers,

And strike to the numbers of Erin go bragh.

Oh, Er.n, my country! though sad and forsaken,

In dreams I revisit thy sea-beaten shore ;

But alas! in a far foreign land I awaken, And sigh for the friends who can

They died to defend me, or live to deplore.

Where now is my cabin-door, fast by the wild wood!

Sisters and sire! did ye weep for its fall;

Where is the mother that look'd on my childhood?

And where is my bosom friend, dearer than all ?

Oh, my sad soul, long abandoned by pleasure,

Why did it doat on a fast fading treasure?

Tears, like the rain, may fall without measure,

But rapture and beauty they can not recall.

Yet all its fond recollections suppressing,

One dying wish my lone bosom can

draw;

Erin, an Exile bequeaths thee his blessing!

Land of my forefathers! Erin go bragh.

Buried and cold, when my heart stills her motion,

Green be thy fields, sweetest isle in

the ocean,

And thy harp-striking bards sing aloud with devotion,

Erin mavournin, sweet Erin go bragh!