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And while I watch my flocks and herds,
And listen to the warbling birds,

You will find, &c.
As I trip, &c.

THE MERMAID'S SONG.
COME, mariner, down in the deep with me,

And hie thee under the wave;
For I have a bed of coral for thee,
And quiet and sound shall thy slumber be

In a cell in the mermaid's cave!
On a pillow of pearls thine eye shall sleep,

And nothing disturb thee there,
The fishes their silent vigils shall keep;
There shall be no grass thy grave to sweep,

But the silk of the mermaid's hair.
And she, who is waiting with cheeks so pale,

As the tempest and ocean roar,
And weeps when she hears the menacing gale,

Or sighs to behold her mariner's sail
Come whitening up to the shore.
She has not long to linger for thee!

Her sorrows will soon be o'er;
For the chord shall be broken, the prisoner free;
Her eye shall close, and her dreams will be

So sweet she will wake no more!

A WEARY LOT IS THINE.
A WEARY lot is thine, fair maid,

A weary lot is thine;
To pull the thorn thy brow to braid,

And press the rue for wine.
A lightsome eye, a soldier's mein,

A feather of the blue,

A doublet of the Lincoln green,
No more of me you know,

My love!
No more of me you know.
This morning, merry June, I trow,

The rose is budding fain;
But she shall bloom in winter's snow,

Ere we two meet again.
He turn'd his charger, as he spake,

Upon the river shore;
He gave his bridle reins a shake,
Said, 'adieu, forever more,

My love!
Adieu, forever more.'

I'LL BE A BACHELOR-NEVER. THE night was dark, the winds blew loud,

My fire by fits was blinking; Says I, I'm almost forty-five,

And what have I been thinking
Then shall I wed, or shall I not,

Shall I be lonely ever;
And spurn great nature's noblest law?

I'll be a bachelor-never.
A bachelor! such a useless thing,

The world is not possessing;
None shares the blank within his heart,

To none he is a blessing.
If he has wealth, some wish him dead,

If poor, he's shun'd forever;
E’en riches cannot purchase bliss,

I'll be a bachelor-never. Was lovely woman not design'd,

To share our joy or sorrow:

To bathe the burnicg brow of care,

To cheer the light of morrow ?
But bachelors alter nature's laws,

Her dearest ties they sever;
No children lisp around his knee,

I'll be a bachelor-never.
They speak of the joys the bachelor knows,

When wine is flowing round them;
But mark him when the morning dawns,

What dismal thoughts confound him.
A pair of tongs without a leg,

The snuffers without either !
Are not more useless in their way,

I'll be a bachelor-never.

MEDORA'S SONG. Deep in my soul that tender secret dwells,

Lonely and lost to light forevermore, Save when to thine my heart responsive swells,

Then trembles into silence as before. There in its centre-a sepulchral lamp

Burns the slow flame eternal--but unseen; Which not the darkness of despair can damp,

Tough vain its ray as it had never been. Remember me-oh! pass not thou my grave

Without one thought whose relics there recläne: The only pang my bosom dare not brave,

Must be to find forgetfulness in thine.
My fondest--faintest-latest-accents hear:

Grief for the dead not virtue can reprove;
Then give me all I ever ask'd-a tear,

The first-last-sole reward of so much love!

O! SOFTLY SLEEP MY BABY BOY. O! sortly sleep, my baby boy,

Rock'd by the mountain wind; Thou dream'st not of a lover false,

Nor of a world unkind. 0! sweetly sleep my baby boy,

Thy mother guards thy rest; Thy fairy clasp, my little joy,

Shall soothe her aching breast.
Wake, wake, and smile my baby boy,

My heavy heart to cheer:
The wintry blast howls on the hill,

The leaf grows red and sear.
Oh! tell me, tell me, baby boy,

How shall I bear thy cry,
When hunger gnaws thy little heart,

And death lights on thine eye ?
Oh! was it meet, my baby boy,!

That thou such weird should dree: 1 Sweet Heaven forgive thy father false,

His wrongs to thee and me.

SONG OVER A CHILD.
DREAM, baby, dream!

The stars are glowing,
Hear'st thou the stream ?

'Tis softly flowing:
All gently glide the hours:
Above, no tempest low'rs:
Below aro fragrant flowers

In silence growing.
Sleep, baby, sleep,

'Till dawn to-morrow!

Why shouldst thou weep,

Who knowest not sorrow.?
Too soon come pains and fears:
Too soon a cause for tears:
So, from thy future years

No sadness borrow!
Dream, baby, dream!

Thine eyelids quiver,
Knowst thou the theme

Of yon soft river?
It saith, Be calm, Be sure,
Unfailing, gentle, pure;
So shall thy life endure,

Like mine, forever !

AWAY WITH MELANCHOLY. Away with melancholy,

Nor doleful changes ring,
On life and human folly,
But merrily, merrily sing-

Fal la.
Come, on ye rosy hours,

Gay smiling moments bring;
We'll strew the way with flowers,
And merrily, merrily sing-

Fal la.
Then what's the use of sighing,

While time is on the wing;
Can we prevent his flying?
Then merrily, merrily sing-

Fal la.
If griefs, like April showers,

A moment's sadness bring,

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