Sent Polyhymnia hither to shield us,
While we ourselves such a structure might raise.
Thus, then, combining, hands and hearts joining,
Sing we in harmony, Apollo's praise.
Here ev'ry gen'rous sentiment awaking,
Music inspiring unity and joy;
Each SOCIAL pleasure giving and partaking,
Glee and good-humour our hours employ.
Thus, then, combining, hands and hearts joining,
Long may continue, our Unity and Joy.
REST, WARRIOR, REST.
He comes from the wars, from the red field of fight,
He comes thro' the storm and the darkness of night,
For rest and for refuge, now fain to implore,
The warrior bends low at the cottager's door:
Pale is his cheek, there's a gash o'er his brow,
His locks o'er his shoulders distractedly flow,
And the fire of his heart shoots in fits from his eye,
Like a langushing lamp, that just flashes to die.
Rest, warrior, rest.
Sunk in silence and sleep, in the cottager's bed,
Oblivion shall visit thy war-weary head:-
Perchance he may dream, and the vision shall tell
Of his lady-love's bower and her latest farewell.
Illusions and love chase the battle's alarms,
He shall dream that his mistress is lock'd in his arms,
He shall feel on his lips the sweet warmth of her kiss :
Ah! warrior wake not, for such slumber is bliss.
Rest, warrior, rest.
RISE WARRIOR, RISE.
RISE, warrior, rise! the moon has shed
Its golden glories around thy bed;
The twilight shades now fleet away,
And mists are bright'ning into day.
Hark! hark! 'tis the lark, her wings o'er thee sweep
Her song, as she soars, seems reproving thy sleep;
Thy steed doth impatient expecting thee stand,
And thy blade lies unsheath'd for thy conquering hand.
Rise, warrior rise
Rise, warrior, rise! though dreams are sweet,
When absent forms in slumber meet;
Though hope should weave such dreams for thee,
And lovely visions round thee flee.
Rise, warrior, rise! 'tis glory now
Prepares the garland for thy brow;
Rise from thy tempting couch of down,
And win and wear the warrior's crown.
ON HAPPINESS.*
SPIRIT beyond the world's controul,
What art thou Happiness, and where?
Thou, pure and viewless as the soul,
Can'st only with the soul compare.
Like Beauty and like Time thou fliest,
Thyself of Beauty's train a part,
Yet not like Time, for tho' thou diest,
Hope may recall thee to the heart.
He knows thee not who strives to tell
Thy secret feast to babbling Fame;
No eloquence with thee can dwell,
Scarce LANGUAGE yet affords thy name.
Spirit beyond the world's controul,
Hear, oh hear! a mortal's prayer;
Be mute, be secret as the soul,
But keep thy hallowed temple there.
O THOU who amid the forest trees,
With thy harmonious trembling strain,
Could'st change at once to soothing ease,
My youthful bosom's cruel pain:
Thou droop'st in dreary silence now,
With shiver'd frame, and broken string,
While here, unhelp'd, beneath the bough
I sit and feebly strive to sing.
The moon no more illumes the ground;
In night and vapour dies my lay;
For with thy sweet and melting sound
Fled all at once, her silver ray:
O soon, O soon, shall this sad heart,
Which beats so low, and bleeds so free,
O'ercome by its fell load of smart,
Be broke, O ruined Harp, like thee!
THE HARP THAT ONCE IN TARA'S HALLS.
THE Harp that once in Tara's Halls
The soul of Music shed,
Now hangs as mute on Tara's Walls,
As if that soul was fled :
So sleeps the pride of former days,
So glory's thrill is o'er,
And hearts that once beat high for praise,
Now feel that pulse no more.
No more to Chiefs and Ladies bright,
The Harp of Tara swells,
The chords alone, that breaks at night,
Its tale of ruin tells.
So Freedom now, so seldom wakes;
The only throb she gives,
Is when some heart indignant breaks,
To shew that still she lives.
FAR over land and far over sea,
A Pilgrim I am roaming;
Over mountains high, where tempests blows,
And billows rudely foaming:
Where 'ere I stray, by night or day,
O'er peaceful earth, or raging sea,
Blest words I say, and daily pray
For her who never prays for me.
Vainly alone to saints I kneel,
My vows are doubly given;
For to my lips her name will steal,
And blend with those in Heaven.
Where 'ere I stray, &c.
THE MERRY SEA BOY.
Air-" Swiss Boy."
COME, carouse thee, carouse thee, my brave sea boy!
Here's a health to all friends far away!
Fill, fill the cup, with ruddy stream,
And be our song some jovial theme.
Come, carouse thee, carouse thee, my brave sea boy!
Here's a health to all friends far away!
Here am I, here am I, lads, a merry sea boy!
All alive, with my pouch full of pay:
Where friends sincere, and messmates dear,
Delight the rover's heart to cheer.
Am not I, am not I, lads, a merry sea boy,
When ashore I am cap'ring away.
Then at night," Boat, a-hoy!" Oh! a jolly sea boy,
I'm away at the signal " Away."
On board as we throng, the muster pass'd"All's well!" we cry, Right and tight at last;" With "Good night," and "Good night," goes the happy sea boy,
To his berth and his hammock away.
THE PLEDGE OF TRUTH.
WHERE the signal for sailing your vessel display'd,
Oh, remember the vows which to Susan you made,
In affection's fond hope, how on you I reclin'd,
And cheer'd, with my smiles, the sad woes of your mind;
Do you think, in your absence, that Susan could prove,
For riches or titles, unworthy your love?
No more let such fears chill the joys of your youth,
The kiss that I gave was the pledge of my truth.
To the hand of my William, I feel I've some claim,
Which I never will barter, for wealth or for fame;
And when far o'er the ocean by fav'ring winds borne,
Still Hope is my Anchor, I sigh not forlorn;
For in no clime or season of YOUR honest heart,
Can doubt or suspicion a sorrow impart;
Then no more shall sad fears chill the joys of our youth,
The kiss that you gave was the pledge of your truth.
And range thro' fashions giddy round;
Give me the calm domestic fire,
Where joys and social pleasure's found!
Let others at the midnight ball,
Through fashions mazes, pleased roam ;
To me such passing pleasures pall,
Compar'd with those I find at Home.
The brightest cheek, that ever bloom'd,
Is turn'd by dissipation pale;
The heart's best feelings are entomb'd,
In scenes where courtly joys prevail !
Let others bow at fashion's shrine,
And through the maze of pleasure roam,
The calmer joys of life be mine,
My cheerful heart, my health, my Home.
OH! ye shall walk in silk attire,
And siller ha'e to spare,
If ye'll consent to be my bride,
Nor think on Donald mair!
Ah! wha would buy a silken gown
With a poor broken heart?
And what's to me a siller crown
'Gin from my love I part.
I would na' walk in silk attire,
Nor braid wi' gems my hair,
'Gin he whose faith is pledg'd to mine,
Were wrang'd and grieving sair.
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