When rosy wine begins to flow, Wine o'er the soul, &c. There's magic lodg'd within the grape : It makes the lover view His mistress' beauty new, Gives lustre to her eye, her air, her shape. Wine o'er the soul, &c. TOM MOODY, You all knew Tom Moody, the whipper-in, well; No hound ever open'd, with Tom near the wood, And all with attention would eagerly mark, 6 When he cheer'd up the pack, Hark! to Rockwood, hark! hark! High-wind him! and cross him! Six crafty earth-stoppers, in hunter's green drest, On whose forehead the brush of his last fox was rear'd; his breath: Thus Tom spoke his friends, ere he gave up FLY CARE TO THE WINDS. FLY Care to the winds, thus I blow thee away; God Bacchus this moment adopts me his son, The sparkling liquor new vigour supplies, And makes the nymph kind who before was too wise. Then, dull sober mortals, be happy as me ; And her coyness wash'd down, she'll fly to your arms. THE HEARTY OLD ODD FELLOW. WHILE with wealth on one hand and content on the other, I enjoy a companion and friend, That leave me no cares, nor vexations to smother, And, while I reflect, that, with doctor and drug, But few have through life brush'd so well, O! I give thanks, that with time, I've so long stood the tug, Still a hearty and sound old Odd Fellow. The blessings of youth I enjoy'd while I held 'em, And mortals are pleas'd with evening but seldom, And though time, on my face its deep furrows may plough, And the bloom on my cheek may turn yellow, Discontent he never shall see perch'd on the brow Of a hearty old honest Odd Fellow. We know that fine words may be founded on fiction, Yet, if ever I meet an old friend in affliction, Nor a stranger distrest pass unfeelingly by, But brush off if I can the big tear from his eye, Like a hearty old honest Odd Fellow. And while thus through life I brush on strange and oddly, When the book of my failings I scan, Tis my wish, by reform, ere I under the sod lie, And when the green grass shall like thatch overspread May each friend, left behind, till he spins his last thread, Prove a hearty old honest Odd Fellow! IT IS NOT FOR THINE EYE OF BLUE IT is not for thine eye of blue, Nor for thy dark and glossy hair, Nor for thy lovely bosom fair But it is for thy gentle mind, Thy placid and expansive brow, Which burns with clear, and fervid glow, A thousand matchless charms in thee! THE CANADIAN BOAT SONG. FAINTLY as tolls the ev'ning chime, Row, brothers, row, the stream runs fast, Why should we yet our sail unfurl? There is not a breath the blue wave to curl; Blow, breezes, blow, &c. Utawa tide! this trembling moon, Blow, breezes, blow, &c. PEACE BE TO THOSE WHO NOBLY BLEED. PEACE be to those who nobly bleed, In freedom and their country's cause, Their charter'd liberties and laws. That may to future ages tell Their lives heroic, and their fall divine. THE LADY OF KIENAST TOWER. IT is the lady of Kienast Tower, of love she will not hear; And she sits alone in her mountain-bower, though woo'd by prince and peer; For she hath made a vow in her pride, her husband none to call, Save he who shall round her castle ride, on the edge of its outer wall! O! the castle-wall is narrow, and the castle-wall is high; And the brain would reel were you but to stand and gaze on the gulf a-nigh! And the bones of many a rider bold lie whit'ning down in the dell, While that lady proud sits in her hall, and laughs as all were well. It is Sir Albert, of Thuringy, who kneels to the mai den now; She has looked but once on his dark blue eye, and she rues her cruel vow; |