WHEN HE WHO ADORES THEE'. AIR-The Fox's Sleep. WHEN he who adores thee has left but the name Of his fault and his sorrows behind, Oh! say, wilt thou weep when they darken the fame Of a life that for thee was resign'd? Yes, weep! and, however my foes may condemn, Thy tears shall efface their decree; For Heaven can witness, though guilty to them, I have been but too faithful to thee! With thee were the dreams of my earliest love, 1 These words allude to a story in an old Irish manuscript, which is too long and too melancholy to be inserted here. Oh! bless'd are the lovers and friends who shall live The days of thy glory to see; But the next dearest blessing that Heaven can give Is the pride of thus dying for thee! THE HARP THAT ONCE THROUGH TORA'S HALLS. AIR-Gramachree. THE harp that once through Tara's halls, The soul of music shed, Now hangs as mute on Tara's walls As if that soul were fled: So sleeps the pride of former days, And hearts, that once beat high for praise, No more to chiefs and ladies bright The chord, alone, that breaks at night, Its tale of ruin tells: Thus Freedom now so seldom wakes, The only throb she gives Is when some heart indignant breaks, FLY NOT YET. AIR-Planxty Kelly. FLY not yet, 'tis just the hour, And maids who love the moon! "Twas but to bless these hours of shade That beauty and the moon were made; "Tis then their soft attractions glowing Set the tides and goblets flowing! Oh! stay,-oh! stay, Joy so seldom weaves a chain, To break its links so soon. Fly not yet! the fount that play'd, In times of old, through Ammon's shade', Though icy cold by day it ran, Yet still, like souls of mirth, began To burn when night was near; And thus should woman's heart and looks When did morning ever break! 1 Solis Fons, near the Temple of Ammon. |