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, Though some other swain thee, may Ah! no other e'er can warm me, charm Yet, never fear, I will not harm theeNo, thou false one, no, I fondly love thee still. WHEN THE TRUMP OF FAME WHEN the trump of Fame, Bids, in Freedom's name, To fight or bravely fall Bold the hero goes, Where maddening war-shouts rise, Bright the sword now gleams, Her pennon, red with gore, When the voice of Love To rescue calls the brave, Who so base would prove, And bower doth brightly flame, 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; For I have a bed of coral for thee, And quiet and sound shall thy slum bers be In a cell of the mermaid' cave. Come, mariner, &c. 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 Come, mariner, &c. She has not long to linger for thee, Her eye shall close, and her dreams will be So sweet, she will wake no more. Come, mariner, &c KATE KEARNEY 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, Yet, oh! I can tell, how fatal's the spell, That lurks in the eye of Kate Kearney. 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 gale, Must die by the breath of Kate ANGELS' WHISPER A BABY was sleeping, Its mother was weeping, 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 !" |