has excited an anxiety in the lovers of Irish music, not only pleasant and flattering, but highly useful to us; for the various contributions we have received in consequence, have enriched our collection with so many choice and beautiful airs, that if we keep to our resolution of publishing no more, it will certainly be an instance of forbearance and self-command, unexampled in the history of poets and musicians. To one gentleman in particular, who has been many years resident in England, but who has not forgot, among his various pursuits, either the language or the melodies of his native country, we beg to offer our best thanks for the many interesting communications with which he has favoured us; and we trust that he and our other friends will not relax in those efforts by which we have been so considerably assisted; for though the work must now be considered as defunct; yet, as Reaumur, the Naturalist, found out the art of making the cicada sing after it was dead-it is not impossible that, some time or other, we may try a similar experiment upon the Irish Melodies." Mayfield Ashbourne, T. M. After the lapse of three or four years, the Author was induced to commence a new series. None of these are here inserted; instead of which, the Publishers have added very many valuable pieces from the Author's earlier poems. Great care has been taken in selecting these-and it is hoped that this cheap illustrated edition will be favourably received by the public. March, 1859. INDEX. Irish Melodies. As a beam o'er the face of the waters may glow At the mid hour of night, when stars are weeping, I ... ... ... fly ... ... Come send round the wine, and leave points of belief ... Come, rest in this bosom, my own stricken deer!... ... Erin! the tear and the smile in thine eyes Fill the bumper fair ... Fly not yet, 'tis just the hour ... Has sorrow thy young days shaded ... ... 36 91 ... How dear to me the hour when daylight dies I saw thy form in youthful prime PAGE 63 I saw from the beach when the morning was shining 105 I'd mourn the hopes that leave me. It is not the tear at this moment shed. Lesbia hath a beaming eye. Let Erin remember the days of old Like the bright lamp that lay in Kildare's holy shrine. Nay, tell me not, dear, that the goblet drowns No, not more welcome the fairy numbers 89 * 54 61 33 39 67 49 94 Oh blame not the bard if he fly to the bow'rs Oh breathe not his name, let it sleep in the shade Oh! had we some bright little isle of our own. 42 15 86 84 24 Oh! the days are gone when beauty bright 56 Oh! think not my spirits are always as light She is far from the land where her young hero sleeps 64 Silent, oh Moyle! be the roar of thy water... There is not in the wide world a valley so sweet... 22 99 The valley lay smiling before me. The young May moon is beaming, love This life is all chequer'd with pleasures and woes Though dark are our sorrows, to-day we'll forget them 58 Though the last glimpse of Erin with sorrow I see We may roam through this world like a child at a feast Weep on, weep on, your hour is past... When he who adores thee, has left but the name When first I met thee, warm and young Songs. A beam of tranquillity smil'd in the west Oh, woman! if by simple wile... When time was entwining the garland of years When wearied wretches sink to rest.... Where is the nymph, whose azure eye... Why does azure deck the sky A Canadian Boat-Song Poems. Concealed within the shady wood I more than once have heard at night ... ... Lines written at the Cohos, or falls of the Mohawk River Take back the sigh, thy lips of art The steersman's song The wreath you wove To the fire-fly ... ... Where is now the smile that lighten'd Written on passing Deadman's Island ... |