How sweet are the flowers that grow, I cull'd for my love a fresh nosegay, I knew by the smoke which so gracefully curl'd, In the downhill of life when I find I'm declining, I sing the maid of Lodi, Is there a heart that never lov'd, I wander'd once at break of day, I who am sore oppress'd with love, Jack Stedfast and I were both messmates at sea, Let others breathe the melting sigh, Mary I believ'd thee true, Collins, My dark-ey'd maid, by moonlight hour, My heart with love is beating, My mam is no more, and my dad's in his grave, No cheering sun-beam's friendly ray, Coleman, My love's the gayest of the throng, . 102 17 O dear to my soul are thy scenes, O'er Nelson's tomb, with silent grief oppress'd, Oh roses are sweet,.. Oh take me to your arms, my love, Oh take these odour breathing flowers, Oh the hours that I've pass'd in the arms, Peaceful slumbering on the ocean, Remember me, when far away, Said a smile to a tear, See the ship in the bay is riding, Talk not of love it gives me pain, Tell her I'll love her, The bird in yonder cage confin'd, The fav'rites of fortune their treasure may boast, The meadows look cheerful, the birds sweetly sing, O'Keeffe, 85 30 76 27 35 145 22 The oak of our fathers to freedom was dear, 4 151 32 The spotless maid is like a blooming rose, 101 The sun sets in night and the stars shun the day, The sun was departed, The trees seem to fade as the dear spot, The war that for a space did fail, The wealthy fool, with gold in store, The wind it blows cold, I'm wet with the rain, Tho' love is warm awhile, ho' I'm now a very little lad, 45 88 26 O'Keeffe,. 142 To Anacreon in Heav'n where he sat in full glee, Tomlinson, Tom Starboard was a lover true, Twas at night ere the bell had toll'd twelve, "Twas night, and the farmer his fire-side near, "Twas on the spot, in ancient lore oft nam'd, We brethren Free-masons, Dibdin, Braham, 7 34 Whence comes this keen, this cutting smart, 20 Burgoyne, Dibdin, Dibdin, Mrs. Brookes, 140 .116 90 122 When thy bosom heaves the sigh, When William Tell was doom'd to die, Where weeps the willow o'er the stream, While I hang on your bosom, distracted to lose, Why heaves that soft bosom, M. G. Lewis, 10 Campbell, Tannahill, Braham, Young love flew to the Paphian bow'r, IRISH AND COMIC SONGS. A CAPTAIN bold in Halifax, A glass is good, and a lass is good, A landlady of France she lov'd an officer 'tis said, As beautiful Kitty one morning was tripping, As I stray'd o'er the common, Assist me ye lads who have hearts void of guile, By the big hill of Howth, Come bustle neighbour prig, Come none of your nonsense, I'm not to be had, Dear Erin how sweetly thy green bosom rises, From a flasket of gin, my dear Nancy requested, 171 Green were the fields where my forefathers dwelt, . Hear, comrades, hear your Chieftain's voice, If my own botheration don't alter my plan, It was Murphy Delaney, so funny and frisky, Ladies, how d'ye do, Morning a cruel turmoiler is, My darling, says Pat, to his spouse in his lap, Now Allister has tun'd his pipes, : O did you not hear of Kate Kearney, Oh many a mountain I wearily measure, Oh soldiers of England, your merciless doings, Oh yes, I have seen this Kate Kearney, Ope thy casement, lady bright, Over port, pipe, or snuff box, Put round the full glass-'tis the season of joy, . T. A. Shepherds I have lost my love, Sleep on, sleep on, my Kathleen dear, 186 O'Keeffe, 201 Swift fly the hours when in youth's happy day, The cloth taken out, and fresh liquor brought in, Wm. Smyth, 213 T. A. 181 183 Campbell, |