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AIR— The Dandy O!

The young May moon is beaming love,
The glow-worm's lamp is gleaming, love,

How sweet to rove,

Through Morna's grove', While the drowsy world is dreaming, love! Then awake!—the heavens look bright, my dear! 'Tis never too late for delight, my dear! And the best of all

ways To lengthen our days Is to steal a few hours from the night, my dear!

1 « Steal silently to Morna's grove." See a translation from the Irish, in M. Bunting! tion, by John Brown, one of my earliest college-companions and friends, whose death was as singularly melancholy and unfortunate, as his life had been amiable, honourable, and exemplary.

Now all the world is sleeping, love,
But the Sage, his star-watch keeping, love,

And I, whose 'star,

More glorious far,
Is the eye from that casement peeping, love.
Then awake, till rise of sun, my dear!
The Sage's glass we'll shun, my dear!

Or, in watching the flight

Of bodies of light, He mighRhappen to take thee for one, Any dear!


AIR-The Moreen.

The Minstrel-boy to the war is gone,

In the ranks of death you'll find him; His father's sword he has girded on,

And his wild harp slung behind him. “ Land of song!" said the warrior-bard,

“ Though all the world betrays thee, One sword, at least, thy rights shall guard,

One faithful harp shall praise thee!”

The Minstrel fell!—but the foeman's chain

Could not bring that proud soul under; The harp he loved ne'er spoke again,

For he tore its chords asunder;
And said, “ No chains shall sully thee,

Thou soul of love and bravery!
Thy song's were made for the pure and free,

They shall never sound in slavery."





AIR-The Pretty Girl milking her Cow.

The valley lay smiling before me,

Where lately I left her behind;
Yet I trembled, and something hung o'er me,

That sadden'd the joy of my mind.

1 These stanzas are founded upon an event of most melancholy importance to Ireland; if, as we are told by our Irish historians, it gave England the first opportunity of dividing, conquering, and enslaving us, The following are the circumstances, as related by O'Halloran.

“ The King of Leinster had long conceived a violent affection for Dearbhorgil, daughter to the King of Meath, and though she had

I look'd for the lamp which she told me,

Should shine, when her Pilgrim return’d, But, though darkness began to infold me,

No lamp from the battlements burn'd!

I flew to her chamber-'twas: lonely

As if the loved tenant lay dead-
Ah! would it were death, and death only!

But no--the young false one had fled.

been for some time married to O'Ruark, Prince of Breffni, yet could it not restrain his passion. They carried on a private correspondence, and she informed him that O'Ruark intended soon to go on a pilgrimage, (an act of piety frequent in those days,) and conjured him to embrace that opportunity of conveying her from a husband she detested to a lover she adored. Mac Murchad too punctually obeyed the summons, and had the lady conveyed to his capital of Ferns." The monarch Roderic, espoused. the cause of O’Ruark, while Mac Murchad fled to England, and obtained the assistance of Henry II.

“Sạch," adds Giraldus Cambrensis (as I find him in an old translation,)“ is the variable and fickle nature of woman, by whom all mișchiefs in the world (for the most part) do happen and come, as may appear by Marcus Antoninus, and by the destruction of Tray."

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