You remember Ellen.44 Air-Were I a Clerk. You remember Ellen, our hamlet's pride, How meekly she bless'd her humble lot, When the stranger, William, has made her his bride, And love was the light of their lowly cot. Together they toiled through winds and rains Till William at length, in sadness, said, "We must seek our fortune on other plains ;" Then, sighing, she left her lowly shed. They roam'd a long and a weary way, They see a proud castle among the trees. So he blew the horn with a chieftain's air, "Now, welcome lady !" exclaim'd the youth,- This castle is thine, and these dark woods all." She believ'd him wild, but his words were truth; For Ellen is Lady of Rosna Hall! And dearly the Lord of Rosna loves What William, the stranger, woo'd and wed; I'd mourn the hopes. Air-The Rose Tree. I'd mourn the hopes that leave me, With heart so warm and eyes so bright, No clouds can linger o'er me, That smile turns them all to light! 'Tis not in fate to harm me, While fate leaves thy love to me; Were worth a long, an endless year Of waking bliss without thee, And though the hope be gone, love, And pure smiles from thee at home. Thus, when the lamp that lighted And looks round in fear and doubt. Come o'er the sea. Air-Cuishlih ma Chree. 4 5 Come o'er the sea, Maiden! with me, Mine through sunshine, storm, and snows! But the true soul Burns the same where'er it goes. Let fate frown on, so we love and part not; 'Tis life where thou art, 'tis death where thou art not! Then come o'er the sea, Maiden! with me, Come wherever the wild wind blows; Seasons may roll, But the true soul Burns the same where'er it goes. Is not the sea Made for the free, Lands for courts and chains alone? Here we are slaves; But, on the waves, Love and liberty's all our own! No eye to watch, and no tongue to wound us, All earth forgot, and all heaven around us! Then come o'er the sea, Maiden! with me, Come wherever the wild wind blows; But the true soul Burns the same where'er it goes. Has sorrow thy young days shaded. Air-Sly Patrick. Has sorrow thy young days shaded, Has love to that soul so tender 46 Been like our Lagenian mine,4 Has hope, like the bird in the story,47 If thus the sweet hours have fleeted, If thus the unkind world wither Each feeling that once was dear ;— Come, child of misfortune! come hither, I'll weep for thee tear for tear. |