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HOW DEAR TO ME THE HOUR.
AIR.-The Twisting of the Rope.
How dear to me the hour when daylight dies,
And, as I watch the line of light that plays
Along the smooth wave toward 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.
TAKE back the virgin page,
White and unwritten still;
Thoughts that not burn, but shine
And, as the records are,
Which wandering seamen keep,
Led by their hidden star
Through the cold deep
the words I write
Tell through what storms I stray,
You still the unseen light
Guiding my way!
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 morn till 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.*
Oh! let one thought of its master waken
Keep this cup, which is now o'erflowing,
On lips that beauty hath seldom blest!
To her he adores shall bathe its brim,
"In every house was one or two harps, free to all travellers, who were the more caressed the more they excelled in music."-O'HALLORAN.
Then, then my spirit around shall hover,
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, entwined by Love!
Peace to each manly soul that sleepeth!
Sigh o'er the hero's grave.
We're fallen upon gloomy days,*
* I have endeavoured here, without losing that Irish character which it is my object to preserve throughout this work, to allude to the sad and ominous fatality by which England has been deprived of so many great and good men at a moment when she most requires all the aids of talent and integrity.