...THE I^AND. She is far from the innd where her young hero sleeps, And lovers are round her sighing ; But coldly she turns from their gaze, and weeps, For...She sings the wild song of her dear native plains, Kvery note which he loved awaking ; Ah ! little they think, who delight in her strains, How the heart...

...pathos : — " She is far from the land where her young hero sleeps, And lovers are round her sighing, But coldly she turns from their gaze and weeps, For...heart in his grave is lying ! " She sings the wild songs of her dear native plains, Every note which he loved awaking — Ah ! little they think who delight...

...lines : — She is far from the land where her young hero sleeps, And lovers around her are sighing; But coldly she turns from their gaze and weeps, For...her heart in his grave is lying. She sings the wild songs of her dear native plains, Every note which ho loved awaking — Ah ! little they think who delight...

...sweetness, but melancholy to such a degree as to recall to the hearer that passage of the Irish bard, "Ah ! little they think who delight in her strains How the heart of the minstrel is breaking !" It seemed to speak a sorrow too deep even for the mystic hand of music to touch ; and yet whose...

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...following bnes : She is far from the land where her young hero sleeps, And lovers around her are sighmg; But coldly she turns from their gaze and weeps, For...her heart in his grave is lying. She sings the wild eongs of her dear native plains, Every note which he lov'd awaking— Ah ! little they think, who delight...

...are ro\nd her sighing ; But coldly tl.e turns from their gaze aud weeps, For her heart iu his grate is lying. She sings the wild song of her dear native plains, Every note which he loved awaking; Ah ! little they think who delight in her strains, How the heart of the minstrel is...

...lying. She sings the wild songs of her dear native plairrs, Every note which he loved awaking : Ah ! how little they think, who delight in her strains, How the heart of the mins'.rel is breaking. Her voice faltered — -she paused. " Come ! no miserable, maudlin, mawkish...

...where her young hero sleeps, And lovers are round her sighing ; But eoldly she turns from their gate, and weeps, For her heart in his grave is lying. She...the wild song of her dear native plains, Every note whieh he lov'd awaking ; — Ah 1 little they think, who delight in her strains, How the heart of the...

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