How dear to me the hour. Air-The Twisting of the Rope.12 How dear to me the hour when daylight dies, And, as I watch the line of light that plays Along the smooth wave tow'rd the burning west, I long to tread that golden path of rays, And think 'twould lead to some bright isle of rest! Take back the virgin page. WRITTEN ON RETURNING A BLANK BOOK. Air-Dermot. Take back the virgin page, White and unwritten still; Some hand, more calm and sage, Thoughts come as pure as light, Pure as even you require; But, oh! each word I write Love turns to fire. Yet let me keep the book; To let wild passion write Haply, when from those eyes Worthy those eyes to meet ; Thoughts that not burn, but shine, Pure, calm, and sweet! And, as the records are, Which wand'ring seamen keep, Led by their hidden star, Tell through what storms I stray, You still the unseen light, Guiding my way! The Legacy. Air-Unknown. When in death I shall calm recline, O bear my heart to my mistress dear; Tell her it lived upon smiles, and wine Of the brightest hue, while it linger'd here; Bid her not shed one tear of sorrow To sully a heart so brilliant and light; But balmy drops of the red grape borrow, To bathe the relic from morning to night. When the light of my song is o'er, Then take my harp to your ancient hall; Hang it up at that friendly door Where weary travellers love to call:18 Then if some bard, who roams forsaken, Revive its soft note in passing along, Oh! let one thought of its master waken Your warmest smile for the child of song. Keep this cup, which is now o'erflowing, To grace your revel when I'm at rest; Never, oh never, its balm bestowing But when some warm devoted lover How oft has the Benshee cried! Air-The dear Black Maid. How oft has the Benshee cried! How oft has death untied Bright links that glory wove, Sweet bonds entwin'd by love? Peace to each manly soul that sleepeth! Rest to each faithful eye that weepeth! Long may the fair and brave Sigh o'er the hero's grave. We're fallen upon gloomy days;14 Star after star decays: Ev'ry bright name, that shed Light o'er the land, is fled. Dark falls the tear of him who mourneth Lost joy or hope, that ne'er returneth; But brightly flows the tear Wept o'er the hero's bier! Oh! quench'd are our beacon lights, Truth, peace, and freedom hung !16 Both mute-but, long as valour shineth, Or mercy's soul at war repineth, So long shall Erin's pride We may roam through this world. Air-Garyone. We may roam thro' this world like a child at a feast, Who but sips of a sweet, and then flies to the rest, And, when pleasure begins to grow dull in the east, We may order our wings, and be off to the west; But if hearts that feel, and eyes that smile, Are the dearest gifts that Heaven supplies, We never need leave our own Green Isle For sensitive hearts and for sun-bright eyes. Then remember, whenever your goblet is crowned, Through this world whether eastward or westward you roam, When a cup to the smile of dear woman goes round, Oh! remember the smile which adorns her at home. In England the garden of beauty is kept By a dragon of prudery, plac'd within call; But so oft this unamiable dragon has slept, That the garden's but carelessly watch'd after all. Oh! they want the wild sweet-briery fence, Which round the flowers of Erin dwells, Which warns the touch, while winning the sense, Nor charms us least when it most repels. Then remember, wherever your goblet is crown'd, Through this world whether eastward or westward you roam, When a cup to the smile of dear woman goes round, Oh! remember the smile which adorns her at home. |