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I had a dream, a happy dream,—
I thought that I was free;
That in my own bright land again
A home there was for me.
Savannah's tides dashed bravely on,
I saw wave roll o'er wave;
But when in full delight I woke,
I found myself a slave.

I never knew a mother's love,
Yet happy were my days,
For by my own dear father's side
I sang my simple lays.

He died, and heartless strangers came,
Ere closed o'er him the grave:
They tore me weeping from his side,
And claimed me as their slave.

And this was in a Christian land,
Where men oft kneel and pray,—
The vaunted home of liberty,

Where lash and chain hold sway.
O, give me back my Georgian cot-
It is not wealth I crave;

O, let me live in freedom's light,
Or die, if still a slave.

TRUTH IN ABSENCE.

HENRY BRANDRETH.]

[Music by E. B. HARPER.

I think of thee at morn, my love, when first I wake

from sleep,

And when beneath the thorn, my love, I sit, at eve and weep.

Or on the hill, or where the rill meanders through

the lea,

Where'er tis mine to stray, my love, I think, I think of thee.

They tell me thou art gay, my love, then why should I repine?

I care not what they say, my love-I know thy heart is mine.

And on the hill, or by the rill, or through the flow'ry lea, Where'er 'tis mine to stray, my love, I think, I think of thee.

WHY ARE YOU WANDERING HERE,

JAMES KENNY.]

I PRAY?

[Music by I. NATHAN.

"Why are you wandering here, I pray ?"
An old man asked a maid one day.
"Looking for poppies so bright and red,
Father," she said, "I'm hither led."
"Fie! fie!" she heard him cry;
"Poppies, 'tis known to all who rove,
Grow in the field, and not the grove."

"Tell me," again the old man said,

Why are you loitering here, fair maid ?"
"The nightingale's song, so sweet and clear,
Father," said she, "I'm come to hear."
"Fic! fie!" she heard him cry;
"Nightingales all, so people say,
Warble by night, and not by day."

The sage look'd grave, the maiden shy,
When Lubin jump'd o'er the stile hard by;
The sage look'd graver, the maid more glum,
Lubin he twiddled his finger and thumb.
"Fie! fie!" was the old man's cry;
"Poppies like these I own are rare,
And of such nightingale's songs beware.

ALL THINGS ARE BEAUTIFUL.

ANDREW PARK.]

The diamond stars above,

[Music by S. GLOVER.

That deck the brow of night,
Look down with love,

And yield intense delight.
And so the lovely flowers,
That scent the dewy air,
And bud in nature's bowers,
Appcar enchanting fair!

All things are beautiful!

On sea-in shady grove-
The moonbeams trembling shine:
These but resemble love

In this fond breast of mine.
And when, on verdant hill,
Sunshine and shadows stray
In freedom at their will,
Oh! what can be more gay.
All things are beautiful!

SOMETHING TO LOVE ME.

J. E. CARPENTER.]

[Music by E. L. HIME.

Something to love me, something to bless,
Something to smile upon-and to caress;
Something to fill up the void in my heart,
That will not, when sorrow comes o'er me, depart.
Something that loves not as summer friends love,
As true as the stars in the blue realms above;
Something with instinct enough to believe,

That will not, like most of earth's proud ones, deceive.
Something, &c.

Something to love me—something to pet,
Something that kindness can never forget;
Something that clings to me-even a bird,
In whose sweet music reproach is not heard;

Something to cheer me, and stay by my side,
That will not leave me, whate'er may betide;
That I may still in this hollow world see,

In spite of its falsehoods, there's something loves me.

SMILE AGAIN, MY BONNY LASSIE.

JOHN PARRY, sen.]

[Music by JOHN PARRY, Sen.

Smile again, my bonny lassie,
Lassie, smile again,

Prithee do not frown, sweet lassie,

For it gives me pain.

If to love thee too sincerely
Be a fault in me,

Thus to use me so severely

Is not kind in thee.

Smile again, &c.

Fare thee well, my bonny lassie,

Lassie, fare thee well;

Time will show thee, bonnie lassie,
More than tongue can tell.
Though we're doom'd by fate to sever

(And 'tis hard to part),

Still believe me thou shalt ever

Own my faithful heart.

Then smile, &c.

HERE AROUND THE HUGE OAK.

JOHN O'KEEFE.]

[Music by W. SHIELD.

Ere around the huge oak that o'ershadows yon mill,
The fond ivy had dared to entwine;

Ere the church was a ruin that nods on the hill,
Or a rook built its nest in the pine.

Could I trace back the time-'tis a far distant da
Since my forefathers toil'd in this field;

And the farm I now hold on your honour's estato
Is the same which my grandfather till'd.

He, dying, bequeath'd to his son a good name,
Which unsullied descended to me;

For my child I've preserv'd it unblemish'd with shame,
And it still from a spot shall be free.

DRAW THE SWORD, SCOTLAND.

J. R. PLANCHE.]

[Music by G. W. RODWELL.

Draw the sword, Scotland, Scotland, Scotland!
Over moor and mountain hath passed the war sign;
The pibroch is pealing, pealing, pealing!

Wha heeds not its summons is nae son o' thine! The clans they are gathering, gathering, gathering! The clans they are gathering, by loch and by lea! The banners they are flying, flying, flying!

The banners they are flying, that lead to victory! Then draw the sword, Scotland, Scotland, Scotland! Charge as you have charged in days lang syne! Sound to the onset, the onset, the onset!

He who now falters is nae son o' thine.

Sheathe the sword, Scotland, Scotland, Scotland! Sheathe the sword, Scotland, for dimm'd is its shine: Thy foemen are fleeing, fleeing, fleeing!

And wha kens nae mercy is nae son o' thine.

The struggle is over, over, over!

The struggle is over, the victory won!

There are tears for the fallen, the fallen, the fallen!
And glory to all who their duty have done.

Then sheathe the sword, Scotland, Scotland, Scotland!
With thy loved thistle new laurels entwine:

Time ne'er shall part them, part them, part them!
But hand down the garland to each son o' thine.

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