I had a dream, a happy dream,— I never knew a mother's love, He died, and heartless strangers came, And this was in a Christian land, Where lash and chain hold sway. O, let me live in freedom's light, 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 ?" "Tell me," again the old man said, Why are you loitering here, fair maid ?" The sage look'd grave, the maiden shy, ALL THINGS ARE BEAUTIFUL. ANDREW PARK.] The diamond stars above, [Music by S. GLOVER. That deck the brow of night, And yield intense delight. All things are beautiful! On sea-in shady grove- In this fond breast of mine. SOMETHING TO LOVE ME. J. E. CARPENTER.] [Music by E. L. HIME. Something to love me, something to bless, That will not, like most of earth's proud ones, deceive. Something to love me—something to pet, Something to cheer me, and stay by my side, 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, Prithee do not frown, sweet lassie, For it gives me pain. If to love thee too sincerely 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, (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, Ere the church was a ruin that nods on the hill, Could I trace back the time-'tis a far distant da And the farm I now hold on your honour's estato He, dying, bequeath'd to his son a good name, For my child I've preserv'd it unblemish'd with shame, DRAW THE SWORD, SCOTLAND. J. R. PLANCHE.] [Music by G. W. RODWELL. Draw the sword, Scotland, Scotland, Scotland! 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! Then sheathe the sword, Scotland, Scotland, Scotland! Time ne'er shall part them, part them, part them! |