In that moment of danger, when free dom invoked

All the fetterless sons of her pride, In a phalanx as dauntless as freedom e'er yoked,

I fought and I fell by her side:

My birth is noble, unstained my crest,

As thine own-let this attest!

THE ROSE TREE.

A ROSE tree in full bearing,
Had sweet flowers fair to see;
One rose beyond comparing,
For beauty attracted me.
Tho' eager then to win it,

Lovely, blooming, fresh, and gay

I find a canker in it,

And now throw it far away.

How fine this morning early,

All sun-shiny, clear and bright; So late I lov'd you dearly,

Tho' lost now each fond delight. The clouds seem big with showers, Sunny beams no more are seen; Farewell, ye fleeting hours,

Your falsehood has chang'd the scene.

MY HEART'S IN OLD IRELAND.

My bark on the billow dash'd glorious

ly on,

And glad were the notes of the sailor boy's song,

Yet sad was my bosom and bursting with woe,

For my heart's in old Ireland wherever

I go.

Oh, my heart's in old Ireland wherever I go.

More dear than the flowers that Italy yields,

Are the red-breasted daisies that spangles thy fields,

The shamrock, the hawthorn, the white blossom glow,

For my heart's in old Ireland wherever

I go.

Bloom the lilies of France, and the olives of Spain;

When I think of the fields where the wild daisies grow,

Then

my

I go.

heart's in old Ireland wherever

Oh, my heart's, &c.

The lilies and roses abandon the plains, Though the summer's gone by, still the shamrock remains,

Like a friend in misfortune it blooms o'er the snow,

heart's in old Ireland wherever

For

my

I go.

Oh, my heart's, &c.

I sigh and I vow, if e'er I get home, No more from my dear native cottage I'll roam;

The harp shall resound, and the goblet shall flow,

For my heart's in old Ireland wherever

I go.

Oh, my heart's, &c

THE GIPSEY BRIDE.

COME with the Gipsey bride,
And repair
To the fair,

Will the hours entrance, Where souls as light preside. Life can give nothing beyond, One heart you know to be fond, Wealth, with his boards, cannot but The peace content can supply Rank, in its halls, may not find The calm of a happy mind;— So repair

To the fair,

And they may be met with there

Love is the first thing to clasp,
But if he escapes your grasp,
Friendship will then be at hand,
In the young rogue's place to stand
Hope, too, will be nothing loth
To point out the way to both.
So repair

To the fair.

And they all may be met with there

BARNEY BRALLAGHAN.

'Twas on a windy night, about two o'clock in the morning,

An Irish lad so tight, all wind and weather scorning;

At Judy Callaghan's door, sitting upon the pailing,

His love tale he did pour, and this is part of his wailing,

Only say you'll be Mistress Bral-
laghan,

Don't say nay-charming Judy
Callaghan.

Oh! list to what I say, charms you've got like Venus,

Own your love you may, for there's only the wall between us.

You lay fast asleep, snug in bed and snoring,

While round the house I creep-your hard heart imploring.

Then do say, &c.

I've got an acre of ground, I've got it set with praties,

I've got tobacco a pound, and I've got some tea for the Ladies,