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When winter old brought frost and cold, he open'd house to all, And though threescore and ten his years, he featly led the ball: Nor was the houseless wanderer e'er driven from his hall;
For while he feasted all the great, he ne'er forgot the small,
Like a fine old, &c.
But time, though sweet, is strong in flight, and years roll'd swiftly by, And autumn's falling leaf proclaim'd the old man he must die.
He laid him down right tranquilly, gave up life's latest sigh,
And mournful friends stood round his couch, and tears bedim'd each eye, For the fine old English gentleman, all of the olden time.
FALSE ONE, I LOVE THEE STILL. STILL TO gently o'er me stealing, Mem'ry will bring back the feeling, Spite of all my grief, revealing
That I love thee, dearly love thes still;
Though some other swain may charm thee,
Ah! no other e'er can warm me,
WHEN THE TRUMP OF FAME
WHEN the trump of Fame,
Where maddening war-shouts rise, And, midst countless foes, He flies, he flies. Bright the sword now gleams,
And banners wave on high; Round, the life-blood streams,
'Mid cries of "Yield, or die!" "Till victory uprears
Her pennon, red with gore, And shouts, to patriot ears, That slavery reigns no more.
When the voice of Love
Who so base would prove,
Who manhood claim.
In injured woman's cause
In battle, recreant fly, And by some traitor blow, Unpitied, fall and die!
THE MERMAID'S CAVE.
COME, mariner, down in the deep with me,
And hide thee under the wave;
In a cell of the mermaid' cave.
And she who is waiting with cheek so pale,
At the tempest and ocean's roar,
And weeps when she hears the mena cing gale,
Or sighs to behold her mariner's sail
She has not long to linger for thee,
Her eye shall close, and her dreams will be
So sweet, she will wake no more.
OH! did you ne'er hear of Kate
She lives on the banks of Killarney: From the glance of her eye, shun danger and fly,
For fatal's the glance of Kate
For that eye is so modestly beaming, You ne'er think of mischief she's dreaming:
Yet, oh! I can tell, how fatal's the
That lurks in the eye of Kate
O should you e'er meet this Kate
Who lives on the banks of Killarney, Beware of her smile, for many a wile Lies hid in the smile of Kate Kearney. Though she looks so bewitchingly simple,
Yet there's mischief in every dimple, And who dares inhale her sigh's spicy
Must die by the breath of Kate
A BABY was sleeping,
For her husband was far on the wide raging sea,
And the tempest was swelling 'Round the fisherman's dwelling, And she cried, "Dermont, darling, oh! come back to me!"