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IV.

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As for those chilly orbs on the verge of creation,

Where sunshine and smiles must be equally rare, Did they want a supply of cold hearts for that station, Heaven knows we have plenty on earth we could

spare.
Oh! think what a world we should have of it here,

If the haters of peace, of affection and glee,
Were to fly up to Saturn's comfortless sphere,

And leave earth to such spirits as you, love, and me.

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OH FOR THE SWORDS OF FORMER TIME!

AIR.-Name Unknown.

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I.

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Oh for the swords of former time!

Oh for the men who bore them,
When, arm’d for Right, they stood sublime,

And tyrants crouch'd before them!
When pure yet, ere courts began

With honours to enslave him,

Plural

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-10.

The best honours worn by Man

Were those which Virtue gave him.
Oh for the swords of former time!

Oh for the men who bore them,
When, arm'd for Right, they stood sublime,

And tyrants crouch'd before them !

II.

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Oh for the Kings who flourish'd then!

Oh for the pomp that crown'd them, When hearts and hands of freeborn men

Were all the ramparts round them! When, safe built on bosoms true,

The throne was but the centre,
Round which Love a circle drew,

That Treason durst not enter.
Oh for the Kings who flourish'd then!

Oh for the poinp that crown'd them,
When hearts and hands of freeborn men

Were all the ramparts round them!

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NUMBER VIII.

IRISH MELODIES.

MWMWWW

No. VIII.

NE'ER ASK THE HOUR.

AIR.-My Husband's a Journey to Portugal gone.

I.

Ne'er ask the hour-what is it to us

How Time deals out his treasures ? The golden moments, lent us thus,

Are not his coin, but pleasure's.
If counting them over could add to their blisses,

I'd number each glorious second;
But moments of joy are, like LESBIA's kisses,

Too quick and sweet to be reckon'd.

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