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0 yes, believe, believe me true,

Though friends to part us may endeavour, The breast, fond breast, that throbs for you,

Can leave thee, dearest, leave thee never. O then believe, believe me true,

Let come what may, I'll love thee ever ; While life is mine I live for you,

And nought but death our hearts can sever.


HARK ! the hollow woods resounding.

With the joyful hunter's cry,
See the stag o'er hedges bounding

Now proclaims that they are nigh.
Now the hounds the stag approaching,

Now the huntsmen doth appear,
On his swiftness they're encroaching,

He distracted runs with fear.
Now the stag himself defending

With his antlers, but in vain,
For his trembling limbs are bending,

Weakened with distracting pain.
Now their pleasure it is ending,

And the tears flow from his eyes ;
Now no more for life contending,

Plunging forward, falls and dies.


BELOVED of my soul, though this moment is bringing,

The feelings of sad disappointment to me, Still hope, smiling hope, in my bosom is springing,

Still absent or present my heart is with thee;

In crowds, in seclusions, thou still art before me,

Each hour in the day, thy lov'd image I see, And the slumber of night to thy presence restores me,

For then I am blest with dear visions of thee. Though destiny, love, may compel us to sever,

Our thoughts are not bound by the cruel decree, My fond faithful heart shall be with us for ever,

And cling with unceasing devotion to thee. And even when life's vital pulse is retreating,

Think, think not the heart can a wanderer be, Its last dying throb, and its last feeble beating,

Shall sigh forth its ardent affections for thee.


At the dead of the night, when hy whiskey inspir'd,
And pretty Katty Flannigan my bosom had fir'd,
I tapp'd at her window, when thus she began,
Oh what the devil are you at? begone, you naughty


I gave her a look, as sly as a thief,
Or when hungry I'd view a fine sirloin of beef :
My heart is red hot, says I, but cold is my skin,
So, pretty Mistress Flannigan, oh, won't you let me in?
She open'd the door, I sat down by the fire,
And soon was reliev'd from the wet, cold, and mire ;
And I pleas'd her so mightily, that long ere 'twas day,
I stole poor Katty's tender heart, and so tripp'd away,

COME WITH ME, I'LL ROW THEE O’ER. On! come with me, I'll row thee o'er yon blue and

peaceful sea, And while I gently ply the oar renew my vows to thee;

I'll bid thee gaze beneath thee, on each reflected star, Then think my soul reflects thee, more true, but brighter far.

Then come with me, &c. Oh, could I count the stars above the wild wave's

ceaseless swell, My deep, my pure, my boundless love to thee I could

not tell, As soon the stars forget to rise, the waves shall cease

to flow, Ere my fond heart forgets its sighs or cease to lova thee, no.

Then come with me, &c. &c.

Oh, was I to blame to love her ?
Oh, was I to blame to love her ?
So gentle, so kind, I could not be blind,
I am not to blame to love her.

My heart it may break with sorrow,
My heart it may break with sorrow ;
'Tis lost for her sake, no complaints will I make,
Tho' my heart it may break with sorrow.
Oh, saw you yon tree's sweet blossom,
Oh, saw you yon tree's sweet blossom,
Like me in thy sight, I will fade with the blight,
Oh, blame not my love but the blossom.
Oh, pride of my heart, I love thee,
Oh, pride of my heart, I love thee,
The zephyrs, the sky, may change, but not I,
Oh, blame not this heart'cause it loves thee.

YES I'M IN LOVE, I FEEL. YES, I'm in love, I feel it now,

And Celia has undone me ; But yet I swear I can't tell how

The pleasing plague stole on me. 'Tis not her face that love creates,

For there no graces revel; 'Tis not her shape, for there the fates

Have rather been uncivil.

'Tis not her air, for sure in that

There's nothing more than common;
And all her sense is only chat

Like any other woman.
Her voice, her touch might give th' alarm,

'Twas both, perhaps, or neither ; In short, 'twas that provoking charm

Of Celia altogether.



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FORGET thee !-in my banquet hall

Go ask my fellow men ;
Or ask the tear that secret falls,

If I forget thee then.
The midnight hours, with song and wine,

I ever shar'd with thee;
The midnight hours, they still are thine,

And fatal memory!
Forget thee !ếin the mirthful dance,

There steals some eye's bright ray,
Like thine—that makes me with its glance

Turn swift in tears away.

Go ask my minstrels, when they breathe

The verse the poet's pen
With each Parnassian sweet hath wreath'd,

If I forget thee then.
Forget thee !-Oh, there is but one

Could from my memory chase
Each sweet charm I've gazed upon,

Each softly winning grace.
To be that one's, my first, first vow,

I pledg'd with infant breath,
And he comes to demand me now,

Thy rival, love-is death!
Forget thee!-when my funeral urn
Thy tearful

And censers of aroma burn,

Exhaling at my feet
When winds and storms careering sweep

Unheeded o'er my breast,
And cypress waves—then turn and weep,

And own my love's at rest !

shall meet,


Do you ever think on me, Peg?

Do you ever think on me ;
When I'm in the kitchen cooking,

Calipash and Calipee?
When the pork is on the fire,

And the sausage in the pan;
Do you think I can forget thee, love,
Oh, no, I never can !

Then, do


&c. When a corn is on your toe, dear,

Which with plaster you are healing,
Do you ever think on ine, Peg,

When potatoes I am peeling?

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