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For there a shepherd maiden dear,
Awaits my song with listening ear,
Am not I, &c.

Then at night! then at night-oh! a gay Swiss boy

I'm away-to my comrades, away:
The cup we fill—the wine is pass'd
In friendship round, until, at last,
With good-night! and good-night! goes
the happy Swiss boy

To his home and his slumbers away.


COME, haste thee, come haste thee, my bonny Swiss maid:

Take thy cloak, and to church let's away;

The plighted love, I claim so true,
For true's my love, sincere to you,
Then, haste thee, coine, haste thee, my
bonny Swiss maid,

Take thy cloak, and to church let's away.

Am not I, am not I, then, a happy Swiss maid?

Now bless'd with my own true love,

My shepherd swain to welcome home, And hail with joy each night's return. Am not I, am not I, then a happy Swiss maid,

Now blest with my own true love?
Now at eve, now at eve, see the happy
Swiss maid,

In her cot, with contentment and peace;
There's naught disturbs-devoid of care,
Her rest is sweet: she knows no fear.
Then "good-night," and "good-night,"
goes the happy Swiss maid,
In her cot, to her slumbers in peace


ONE evening as I rambled

Two miles below Pomroy,
I met a farmer's daughter,

All on the mountains high,
I said, "My pretty fair maiden,

Your beauty shines most clear,
And upon these lonely mountains,
I'm glad to meet you here."
She said, "Young man, be civil,
My company forsake,
For to my great opinion,
I fear you are a rake :


And if my parents should it know My life they would destroy, For keeping of your company

All on the mountains high."

I said, "My dear, I am no rake,
But brought up in Venus' train,
And looking out for concealments,
All in the judge's name;
Your beauty has ensnared me,
I cannot pass you by ;
And with my gun I'll guard you,
All on the mountains high ""

This pretty little thing,
She fell into amaze,

With her eyes as bright as amber
Upon me she did
Her cherry cheeks, and ruby lips,
They lost their former dye;
And then she fell into my arms,
All on the mountains high.

I had but kissed her once or twice, Till she came to again; She modestly then asked me, "Pray, sir, what is your name "If you go to yonder forest, My castle you will find,


Wrote in ancient history-
My name is Rinordine."

I said, "My pretty fair maiden,
Don't let your parents know,
For if you do they'll prove my ruin
And fatal overthrow,

But, when you come to look for me
Perhaps you'll not me find,

But I'll be in my castle-
And call for Rinordine."

Come, all ye pretty fair maidens,
A warning take by me,
And be sure you quit night walking
And shun bad company;
For if you don't, you'll surely rue
Until the day you die-

And beware of meeting Rinordine,
All on the mountains high.


THE minstrel's return'd from the war,
With spirits as buoyant as air,
And thus on his tuneful guitar,


sung in the bower of his fair-

The noise of the battle is over, The bugle no more calls tc arms; A soldier no more-but a lover,

I bend to the power of thy charms. Sweet lady, fair lady, I'm thine,

I bend to the magic of beautyThough the banner and helmet are mine Yet love calls the soldier to duty." The minstrel his suit warmly press'd, She blush'd, sigh'd, and hung down her head;

Till, conquer'd, she fell on his breast, And thus to the happy youth said: "the bugle shall part us, love, never;

My bosom thy pillow shall be, Till death tears thee from me, forever, Still faithful, I'll perish with thee." Sweet lady, &c.

But fame call'd the youth to the field; His banner waved high o'er his head

He gave his guitar for a shield,

And soon he lay low with the deadWhile she o'er her young hero bending, Received his expiring adieu"I die whilst my country defending, But I die to my lady love true "

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