When wine, he knew,
Runs brisker through,

And sparkles far more brightly.
Oh, lend it us,

And, smiling thus,

The glass in two we'd sever,
Make pleasure glide

In double tide,

And fill both ends for ever!

Then, wreath the bowl, &c.

Whene'er I see those smiling eyes.

Air-Father Quinn.

Whene'er I see those smiling eyes,
All fill'd with hope, and joy, and light,
As if no cloud could ever rise,

To dim a heav'n so purely bright—
I sigh to think how soon that brow
In grief may lose its every ray,
And that light heart, so joyous now,
Almost forget it once was gay.

For time will come with all his blights, The ruin'd hope-the friend unkind-And love, who leaves, where'er he lights, A chill'd or burning heart behind!

And youth, that like pure snow appears,
Ere sullied by the dark'ning rain,
When once 'tis touch'd by sorrow's tears,
Will never shine so bright again!

If thou'lt be mine.

Air-The Winnowing Sheet.

If thou'lt me mine, the treasures of air,
Of earth, and sea, shall lie at thy feet;
Whatever in fancy's eye looks fair

Or in hope's sweet music sounds most sweet Shall be ours, if thou wilt be mine, love!

Bright flow'rs shall bloom wherever we rove,
A voice divine shall talk in each stream,
The stars shall look like worlds of love,
And this earth be all one beautiful dream,
In our eyes, if thou wilt be mine, love!

And thoughts, whose source is hidden and high,
Like streams that flow from heaven-ward hills,
Shall keep our hearts, like meads, that lie
To be bath'd by those eternal rills,
Ever green, if thou wilt be mine, love!

All this and more the spirit of love

Can breathe o'er them who feel his spells;

That heaven, which forms his home, above,
He can make, on earth, wherever he dwells,
As thou'lt own, if thou wilt be mine, love!

To ladies' eyes.

Air-Fague a Ballagh.

To ladies' eyes around, boy,
We can't refuse, we can't refuse,

Though bright eyes so abound, boy,
'Tis hard to choose, 'tis hard to choose.
For thick as stars that lighten
Yon airy bow'rs, yon airy bow'rs,

The countless eyes that brighten
This earth of ours, this earth of ours.
But fill the cup-where'er, boy,
Our choice may fall, our choice may fall,
We're sure to find love there, boy,
So drink them all! so drink them all!

Some looks there are, so holy,
They seem but giv'n, they seem but giv❜n,
As splendid beacons solely,

To light to heav'n, to light to heav'n.
While some-oh, ne'er believe them→
With tempting ray, with tempting ray,
Would lead us (God forgive them!)
The other way, the other way.

But fill the cup, &c.

In some, as in a mirror,

Love seems portray'd, love seems portray'd,

But shun the flattering error,

'Tis but his shade, 'tis but his shade.
Himself has fix'd his dwelling
In eyes we know, in eyes we know,
And lips-but this is telling,
So here they go! so here they go!
Fill up, fill up, &c.

Forget not the field.

Air-The Lamentation of Aughrim.

Forget not the field where they perish'd,
The truest, the last of the brave,

All gone-and the bright hope we cherish'd
Gone with them, and quench'd in their grave!

Oh! could we from death but recover
Those hearts, as they bounded before,
In the face of high heav'n to fight over

That combat for freedom once more :

Could the chain for an instant be riven
Which Tyranny flung round us then,
Oh! 'tis not in man nor in Heaven
To let Tyranny bind it again!

But 'tis past-and, though blazon'd in story
The name of our victor may be,

Accurst is the march of his glory

Which treads o'er the hearts of the free.

Far dearer the grave or the prison,
Illum'd by one patriot name,

Than the trophies of all who have risen
On Liberty's ruins to fame.

They may rail at this life.

Air-Noch bonin shin doe.

They may rail at this life-from the hour I began it,
I've found it a life full of kindness and bliss;
And until they can show me some happier planet,
More social and bright, I'll content me with this.
As long as the world has such eloquent eyes

As before me this moment enraptur'd I see,
They may say what they will of their orbs in the skies,
But this earth is the planet for you, love, and me.

In Mercury's star, where each minute can bring them New sunshine and wit from the fountain on high, Tho' the nymphs may have livelier poets to sing them,52

They've none, even there, more enamour'd than I.