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Yet, at our feasts, thy spirit long,
Awak'd by music's spell, shall rise;
For name so link'd with deathless song
Partakes its charm and never dies:
And ev'n within the holy fane,

When music wafts the soul to heaven, One thought to him, whose earliest strain Was echoed there, shall long be given.

But, where is now the cheerful day,
The social night, when, by thy side,
He, who now weaves this parting lay,
His skilless voice with thine allied;
And sung those songs whose every tone,
When bard and minstrel long have past,
Shall still, in sweetness all their own,
Embalm'd by fame, undying last?

Yes, Erin, thine alone the fame,

Or, if thy bard have shar'd the crown,
From thee the borrow'd glory came,
And at thy feet is now laid down.
Enough, if Freedom still inspire

His latest song, and still there be,
As evening closes round his lyre,
One ray upon its chords from thee.

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(AIR-THE BELLS OF ST. PETERSBURGH.)

THOSE evening bells! those evening bells!
How many a tale their music tells,
Of youth, and home, and that 'sweet time,
When last I heard their soothing chime.

Those joyous hours are pass'd away;
And many a heart, that then was gay,
Within the tomb now darkly dwells,
And hears no more those evening bells.

:

And so 'twill be when I am gone;
That tuneful peal will still ring on,
While other bards shall walk these dells,
And sing your praise, sweet evening bells:

COMMON SENSE AND GENIUS.

(FRENCH AIR.)

WHILE I touch the string,

Wreathe my brows with laurel,
For the tale I sing

Has, for once, a moral.

Common Sense, one night,

Though not used to gambols,

Went out by moonlight,

With Genius, on his rambles.
While I touch the string, &c.

Common Sense went on,

Many wise things saying;
While the light that shone

Soon set Genius straying.

One his eye ne'er rais'd

From the path before him.
T'other idly gaz'd

On each night-cloud o'er him.

While I touch the string, &c.

So they came, at last,

To a shady river;

Common Sense soon pass'd,

Safe, as he doth ever,

While the boy, whose look

Was in Heaven that minute,

Never saw the brook

But tumbled headlong in it!

While I touch the string, &c.

How the Wise One smil'd,
When safe o'er the torrent,
At that youth, so wild,

Dripping from the current!
Sense went home to bed;
Genius, left to shiver

On the bank, 'tis said,

Died of that cold river!

While I touch the string, &c.

THE CRYSTAL-HUNTERS.

(Swiss AIR.)

O'ER mountains bright

With snow and light,

We Crystal-hunters speed along;

While rocks and caves,

And icy waves,

Each instant echo to our song;

And, when we meet with store of gems,

We grudge not kings their diadems.

O'er mountains bright

With snow and light,

We Crystal-hunters speed along;

While grots and caves,

And icy waves,

Each instant echo to our song.

Not half so oft the lover dreams
Of sparkles from his lady's eyes,
As we of those refreshing gleams

That tell where deep the crystal lies; Though, next to crystal, we too grant, That ladies' eyes may most enchant. O'er mountains bright, &c.

Sometimes, when on the Alpine rose
The golden sunset leaves its ray,
So like a gem the flow'ret glows,

We thither bend our headlong way; And, though we find no treasure there, We bless the rose that shines so fair. O'er mountains bright

With snow and light,

We Crystal-hunters speed along;

While rocks and caves,

And icy waves,

Each instant echo to our song.

ROW GENTLY HERE.

(VENETIAN AIR.)

Row gently here,
My gondolier,

So softly wake the tide,

That not an ear

On earth may hear,

But hers to whom we glide.

Had Heaven but tongues to speak, as well As starry eyes to see,

Oh, think what tales 'twould have to tell Of wandering youths like me!

Now rest thee here,

My gondolier,

Hush, hush, for up I go,

To climb yon light
Balcony's height,

While thou keep'st watch below.

Ah! did we take for Heaven above

But half such pains as we

Take, day and night, for woman's love,
What Angels we should be!

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