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And thou, cruel Fate, wilt thou never replace me In a mansion of peace, where no peril can chace

me ? Ah! never again shall my brothers embrace me!

They died to defend me, or live to deplore. “Where now is my cabin-door, so fast by the wild

wood, Sisters and sire, did ye weep' for its fall! Where is the mother that look'd on my childhood ?

And where is my bosom friend, dearer than all? . Ahl my sad soul, long abandon'd by pleasure, 'Why did it doat on a fast fading treasure? Tears, like the rain, may fall without measure,

But rapture and beauty they cannot recal. “ But yet all its fond recollections suppressing,

One dying wish my fond bosom shall draw,
Erin, an Exile bequeaths thee his blessing,

Land of my forefathers-Erin go Bragh!
Bury'd and cold, when my heart stills its motion,
Green be thy fields, sweetest isle of the ocean,
And thy harp-striking 'bards sing aloud with devo.


“Erin ma vourneen, sweet Erin go Bragh!""

* * * * * * * * *

IN Windermere Vale a Rose there once fiourish'a,

Remote from the world, its frowns and its wiles;
By Nature's soft hand fair Ellen was nourishid,
And happy that Swain who was blest with her

But oh! what a beauty! what did beauty avail,
To Ellen, sweet Elen of Windermere Vale!
But oh! what did beauty or Virtue avail,
To Ellen, sweet Ellen of Windermere Vale!
To Ellen, sweet Ellen of Windermere Vale.

Sweet peace and contentment encircled this Maid,

Her passions were pure and her mind was at rest, By parents ador'd, and by swains homage paid, More than Ellen of Windermere sure none were

blest. But oh, what a beauty, &c. A villain at length, did poor Ellen assail,

He whisper'd soft tales in the ear of this maid,
And she who once flourish'd in Windermeie vale,
By foul villany fell, asham’d and dismay’d.

Then why envy beauty! what can beauty avail!
That ruin'd poor Ellen of Windermere vale;
Then why envy beauty! &c.

* * * * * * * * *

Come, come, bónny lassie,' crie'd Sandy 'awa,
While mither's a spinning, and father's afar,
The folks are at work, and the bairns are at play,
And we will be married, dear Jenny to-day.'
"Stay, stay, bonny laddie,' I answered with speed,
"I winna, I munna go with you, indeed,
Besides, should I do so, what would the folks say
O. we canna marry, dear Sandy, to-day.'
'List, list,' cried he, “Jassie, and mind what you
Both Peggy and Patty I give up for you ;
Besides, a full twelvemonth we've trii'd away,
And one or the other I'll marry to-day.'

Fie, fie, bonny laddie,' reply'd I again,
* When Peggy you kiss'd t'other day on the plain:
Besides, a new ribbon does Patty display;
So we canna marry, dear Sandy, today!
-Then, then, a good bye, bonny lassie,' says he,

For Peggy and Patty are waiting for me..

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The kirk is hard by, and the bells call away,
Ani Peggy or Patty I'll marry to-day.'
Stop, stop, bonny laddie,' says I with a smile,
For know, I was joking indeed all the while,
Let Peggy go spin, and Patty away,
And we will be married, dear Sandy, to-day.'

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The trees seem'd to fade, as the dear spot I'da

viewing. .
My eyes fill with tears as I look at the doors
And see the lov'd cottage all sinking in ruin,
. The cottage of peace, and Sadi the Moor.
Poor Sadi was merciful, honest, and cheerly,
His friends where his life's blood, he valued them

-dearly, And his sweet dark-ey'd Zeida, he lov'd her sin


Hard was the fate of poor Sadi the Moor. As Sadi was toiling, his Zeida was near him, m. His children were siniling and prattling before,; When the pirates appear, from his true love they

in tear him, - And drag to the vessel poor Sadi the Mocr. The forlorni one ray'd loudly, her lost husband

seeking, His children and friends at a distance wer: shriek | ing,

Poor Sadi cried out, while lis sad hcart was break. ing,

" Pity the sorrows of Sadi the Moor, In spite of his plaint, to the galley they bore him,

His Zeida and children, to mourn and deplore, At morn from his feverish slumbers they tore him, And with blows hardly treated poor Saili the


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At night up aloft while the still moon was clouding,
The thought of his babes on his wretched mind

crouding, · He heav'd a läst sigh, and fell dead from the


The sea was the grave of Sadi che Moor.


DESPONDING NEGRO. ON Afric's wide plains, where the Lions, loud

roaring, With freedom stalk forth, the vast desart explor

ing, I was dragg'd from my hut, enchain'd as a slave, In a dark floating dungeon, upon the salt wave.

Spare a halfpenny! spare a halfpenny!

O spare a halfpenny to a poor Negro.
Toss'd on the wide main, I, all wildly despairing,
Burst my chains, rush'd on deck, with my eye-balls

wide glaring, When the lightning's dread blast struck the inlets.

of day,
And its glorious bright beams shut for ever away.
The despoiler of man then his prospect thus losing
Of gain, by my sale-not a blind bargain choosing,
As my value, compar'd with my keeping, was light,
Had me dash'd overboard in the dead of the night.
And but for a bark, to Britannia's coast bound

All my cares, by that plunge in the deep, bad been

drown'd then; But, by moonlight descry’d, I was snatch'd from

the wave, And reluctantly robb’d of a wat’ry grave. How disastrous my fate! freedom's ground tho' I

tread now

Torn from home, wife and children, and wand'ring

for bread now, While seas roll.between us, which ne'er can be

cross'd, And hope's distant glimm'rings in darkness are lost. But of minds foul and fair, when the judge and the

pond'rer, Shall restore light and rest to the blind and tho

wand'rer, The European's deep dye may out-rival the sloe, And the soul of an Ethiop prove white as the snow.


THE OLD SOLDIER. MARK, my love, yon broke-up soldier,

- View the big tear in his eye! Hard misfortune presses on him;

Must he pass unheededly?
No---come here, my honest fellow,

There—'twill help thee on thy way,
Nay, no thanks, 'tis but a trifle,

Thou hast seen a better day.
By my soul the vet'ran's touch'd me,

What! so proud-and yet so poor!
Stop, stop, stop! we must not part so,

1 hat will something more procure. Fare thee well, thou good Old Soldier,

Honor'd be thy ev'ry scar;
Lead him, lead him, gently on, boy,

He has play'd his part in war.

* * ******

PADDY OʻROURKE, or the PIG under the POT. WHEN I was a young man in sweet Tipperary, .

To dance with a piper or hurl on the green,

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