Hymen ushers the Lady Astræa, The jest took hold of Latona the cold; And Maia with Flora did company bear; Too high to be mated, Although she hated not hunting the hare. Three brown bowls to the Olympical rector, And Phoebus to Hermes, and Hermes to me: I piped and mused, In language unused, their sports to declare : Like the spheres did move : Health to those who love hunting the hare. **** ADOWN, ADOWN, ADOWN in the VALLEY. DID you ne'er hear a tale, how a youth in a Vale Ask'd a Damsel to grant him a kiss ; How the silly maid reply'd, No! it must be deny'd, But all the while wish'd to say yes. Yet when on her pillow, she sigh'd for the willow, Where Edward first saw pretty Sally; But rather in truth, she sigh'd for the youth All adown, adown, adown in the Valley. Have you ne'er heard it said, when he ask'd her to wed, And told her true love prompted so, How the silly maid spoke, to be sure 'twas in joke, For she answer'd him "Shepherd no, no! Yet when on her &c, But ah, now you shall find, how this maid chang'd her mind When a twelvemonth had pass'd after this; For when he next press'd at the Church to be bless'd, She answer'd him "Shepherd, yes, yes!" No more on her pillow, she sigh'd for the willow, Where Edward first saw pretty Sally; But bless'd the fond day, they to Church flew away, All adown, adown, adown in the Valley. THE EXILE OF ERIN. THERE came to the beach a poor Exile of Erin, To wander alone by the wind-beaten hill; "O, sad is my fate," said the heart broken stran. ger, "The wild deer and wolf to a covert can flee, But I have no refuge from famine and danger; A home and a country remain not for me! Ah, never again in the green shady bowers, Where my forefathers liv'd shall I spend the sweet hours, Or cover my harp with the wild-woven flowers, And strike the sweet numbers of Erin go Bragh. "Oh, Erin,. my country, tho' sad and forsaken, In dreams I revisit thy sea-beaten shore; But, alas, in a far foreign land I awaken, And sigh for the friends who can meet me ne more. 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 ?. 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 tion, "Erin ma vourneen, sweet Erin go Bragh!" ELLEN OF WINDERMERE. IN Windermere Vale a Rose there once flourish'd, But oh! what a beauty! what did beauty avail, 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 Windermere vale, By foul villany fell, asham'd and dismay'd. Then why envy beauty! what can beauty avail! SANDY AND JENNY. 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, lassie, and mind what you do, Both Peggy and Patty I give up for you; Besides, a full twelvemonth we've trifl'd away, "Fie, fie, bonny laddie,' reply'd I again, When Peggy you kiss'd t'other day on the plain: Then, then, a good bye, bonny lassie,' says he, The kirk is hard by, and the bells call away, Stop, stop, bonny laddie,' says I with a smile, And we will be married, dear Sandy, to-day.” SADI THE MOOR. THE trees seem'd to fade, as the dear spot I'm viewing. My eyes fill with tears as I look at the door, 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-cy'd Zeida, he lov'd her sincerely, Hard was the fate of poor Sadi the Moor. As Sadi was toiling, his Zeida was near him, And drag to the vessel poor Sadi the Moor. The forlorn one rav'd loudly, her lost husband seeking, His children and friends at a distance were shriek ing, Poor Sadi cried out, while his sad heart 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 Sadi the Moor. |