She will ne'er with woe or weeping,
Grieve she gave her heart away.
And 'tis thine the flow'r to cherish,
For its germ of life's with thee;
And with cold neglect 'twill perish,
That might and would a blessing be

FLOW ON THOU SHINING RIVER

FLOW on, thou shining river,
But ere thou reach the sea,
Seek Ella's bower, and give her
The wreaths I fling o'er thee;
And tell her thus, if she'll be mine,
The current of our lives shall be,
With joys along their course to shine,
Like those sweet flowers on thee.

But if, in wand'ring thither,

Thou find'st she mocks my pray'r. Then leave those wreaths to wither Upon the cold bank there;

And tell her thus, when youth is o'er, Her lone and lovely charms shall be Thrown upon life's weedy shore,

Like those sweet flowers from thee

LIFE OF THE BOLD BUCCANEER

TUNE.-A Life on the Ocean Wave
THE life of the bold Buccaneer,
Is ever joyous and new,
Upon the wave to steer

With a jolly and daring crew.
O'er the deep our narrow bark flies,
Like a bird on the bounding air,
We smuggle or win a prize,

And sing as our spoils we share.
The life of the bold Buccaneer,
Is ever joyous and new,
Upon the wave to steer,
With a jolly and daring crew

No nation in peace we own,
But make both friend and foe,
Our daring labour crown,

As around their coasts we go. But then when a war breaks forth, Bold privateers are we,

We strike for the land of our birth, 'Neath the starry flag of the free, Sing the life of the bold

Buccaneer, &c.

THE MOTHER WHO HATH A CHILD AT SEA.

THERE's a cheek that's growing sadly white

As the tokens of storms come on with the night,

There's a form that's fixed at the lattice

pane,

To mark how the gloom gathers over the main,

While the angry billows dash the shore, With loftier sweep and wilder roar, That cheek, that form, Oh! whose can it be,

But a mother who hath a child at sea.

The rushing whistle chills her blood, As the north wind hurries to scourge the flood,

The icy shiver spreads o'er her heart,
As the first red lines of light'ning start,
The ocean boils, all mute she stands,
With parted lips and tight clasp'd
hands,

Oh! marvel not at her fear, for she
Is a mother who hath a child at sea

While the storm howls on and the thunder peals;

She breathes not a word for her passion

ate prayer,

Is too fervent and deep for the lips to bear.

It is pour'd in the deep convulsive sigh,

In the straining glance of an upturn'd

eye,

And a holier off'ring cannot be

Than a mother's prayer for her child

at sea.

HURRAH FOR THE EMERALD ISLE.

THERE'S a health to the friends that are far,

There's a health to our friends that

are near,

Here's to those who rank first in the

war,

Oh the brave hearts that never knew

fear!

Here's to him who for freedom first draws,

And here's to the heart free from

guile,

The patriot friend to his home and his laws,

Who stands by his own native isle.

Then Hurrah for the Emerald Isle !

And here's to the bosom's bright glow,
When the banner of liberty waves;
And here's may she conquer her foe,
Ere the sons of her glory be slaves.
Then here's to the friends all around,
The emblem of Erin's rich soul,
And oh! may they ever, when wanted,
be found

To stand by their own native isle.
Then Hurrah for the Emerald Isle'

SPARKLING AND BRIGHT.

SPARKLING and bright, in liquid light, Does the wine our goblets gleam in, With hue as red as the rosy bed, Which a bee would choose to dream in.

Then drink to-night with hearts as light,

To love as gay and fleeting,