I have heard bells chiming full many a clime in,
Tolling sublime, in cathedral shrine,

While at a glib rate brass tongues would vibrate
But all their music spoke nought to thine!
For memory dwelling on each proud swelling
Of thy belfry knelling its bold notes free,
Made the bells of Shandon
Sound far more grand on

The pleasant waters of the river Lee!

I have heard bells tolling "old Adrian's mole" in,
Their thunder rolling from the Vatican;
With cymbals glorious, swinging uproarious
In the gorgeous turrets of Notre Dame;
But thy sounds were sweeter than the dome of Peter
Flings o'er the Tiber, pealing solemnly!
Oh! the bells of Shandon

Sound far more grand on

The pleasant waters of the river Lee!

There's a bell in Moscow, while on tower and kiosko,
In Saint Sophia, the Turkman gets,
And loud in air calls men to prayer

From the tapering summits of tall minarets.
Such empty phantom I freely grant them;
But there's an anthem more dear to me-
It's the bells of Shandon,

That sound so grand on
The pleasant waters of the river Lee!

WHERE SHALL THE LOVER REST?

[Sir WALTER SCOTT.]

Where shall the lover rest
Whom the fates sever,

From his true maiden's breast

Parted for ever?

Where, through groves deep and high,

Sounds the far billow;
Where early violets die,

Under the willow,

Eleu lo ro!-Soft shall be his pillow.

There, through the summer's day,
Cool streams are laving;
There, while the tempests sway,
Scarce are boughs waving.
There thy rest shalt thou take,
Parted for ever,

Never again to wake

Never! oh, never!

Eleu lo ro!-Never! oh, never!

Where shall the traitor rest-
He, the deceivér ?

Who could win maiden's breast,
Ruin, and leave her?
In the lost battle,

Borne down by the flying,
Where mingles war's rattle

With groans of the dying.
Eleu lo ro!-There shall he be lying.

Her wing shall the eagle flap
O'er the false-hearted;

His warm blood the wolf shall lap,
Ere life be parted.

Shame and dishonour sit

By his grave ever,

Blessing shall hallow it

Never! oh, never!

Eleu lo ro!-Never! oh, never!

CRABBED AGE AND YOUTH.

WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE.]

[Music by Sir H. R. BISHOP,

Crabbed age and youth
Cannot live together;
Youth is full of pleasure-
Age is full of care;
Youth like summer morn-
Age like winter weather;
Youth like summer, brave-
Age like winter, bare;
Youth is full of sport-

Age's breath is short;

Youth is nimble, age is lame;

Youth is hot and bold

Age is weak and cold;

Youth is wild, and age is tame;
Age, I do abhor thee-
Youth, I do adore thee!

Oh, my love-my love is gone!
Age, I do defy thee!

Oh, sweet shepherd, hie thee;
Methinks thou stay'st too long.

I LOVE THE MERRY SUNSHINE.

J. W. LAKE.]

[Music by STEPHEN GLOVER.

I love the merry sunshine,

It makes the heart so gay

To hear the sweet birds singing
On their summer holiday,

With their wild-wood notes of duty,

From hawthorn-bush and tree ;

Oh, the sunshine is all beauty,

The merry sun for me.

I love the merry sunshine,

Through the dewy morning's show'r,

With its rosy smiles advancing,
Like a beauty from a bow'r.

It charms the soul in sadness,
It sets the spirits free;-

Oh, the sunshine is all gladness,
The merry sun for me.

MY OLD FRIEND JOHN.

JOHN LEGGE.]

[Music by EDWARD LAND.

'Tis forty years, my old friend John,
Since you and I were young;
Bird-nesting through each forest glen,
What merry lays we've sung.
We climb'd the rugged mountain side,
And cull'd the bright-topp'd heather:
Methinks it seems but yesterday
Since we were boys together.
Since we were boys, merry, merry boys, &c.
There's gladness in remembrance, John,
Our friendship has been true;
In all the weal and woe of life,

No change that friendship knew.
We've miss'd some loved ones, one by,

And turn'd our wreaths of heather

In fancy, as we deck'd their tombs,
Since we were boys together.

Since we were boys, merry, merry boys, &c.
I need not bid thee ponder, John,
You know our prime is o'er;
The flower, the nest, the humming-bee
For us will charm no more.

And our frail forms are fading fast,-
We could not bound the heather,
As, hand in hand, with gladsome brows,
We did when boys together.

When we were boys, merry, merry boys,
When we were boys together;

Through many sunny years, friend John,
May we live yet together.

COME FERRY ME O'ER.

MRS. GROOME.]

[Music by MRS. GROOME,

"Come ferry me o'er, come ferry me o'er ;
Fain would I be wi' my love once more,
For many a day he has been away,

And oh! but I've mourn'd for him sairly.
Then ferry me o'er, ferry me o'er
Safe to my laddie on yonder shore;
Ferry me o'er, ferry me o'er,

Thou shalt be fee'd for it rarely."

"If I ferry you o'er, if I ferry you o'er, Will you bring back the laddie we all adore? There's a gallant band ready with sword in hand To win back his ain for him fairly!" "Oh! ferry me o'er, ferry me o'er, I'll bring the bonnie lad hame once more. Oh! ferry me o'er, ferry me o'er,

I'll soon return wi' our Charlie."

OH! WILT THOU BE MY BRIDE?

MARK LEMON.]

[Music by FRANK ROMER.

Oh! wilt thou be my bride, Kathleen?
Though lowly I may be,-

My only wealth is this poor heart,

Which beats alone for thee.

The gems that others bring, Kathleen,
Upon thy brow to shine,

Oh, do they speak of love and truth
Like this poor gift of mine?

I've not rich robes for thee, Kathleen-
Thy beauty needs no dress;

The pride of queenly splendour fades
Before thy loveliness.