I've seen the shores of Italy, And Venice with its gondoliers, In hope my long-loved home to see, My Normandy! my Normandy! It seems to me a dream of life Since youth's bright smiles have pass'd away, And ev'ry form I loved on earth By time's rude hand hath met decay. Still let me live to dream of all The sunny smiles I loved to see, ON THE BANKS OF A BEAUTIFUL J. E. CARPENTER.] RIVER. [Music by SIR HENRY R. BISHOP. ON the banks of a beautiful river How sweet 'tis in summer to stray, On the banks of a beautiful river Beyond dark futurity's sea. INDEX TO THE FIRST LINES. A child sleeps under a rose-bush fair Ah! tossed upon the billow A rover I've been in realms afar As day by day we hold our way... Awake, awake! Eolian lyre, awake! Awake! the starry midnight hour PAGE ... 107 €3 79 8 53 130 5 43 122 As down in the meadows I chanced for to pass A weary lot is thine, fair maid ... Beautiful ocean, beautiful ocean... 23 42 Come hither, my pretty gazelle Come, let us wander forth, Annie Beneath thy window grew a gentle flower Beside her lattice every night Be kind to thy father, for when thou wert young By the silvery hawthorn tree By the dark waves of the rolling sca Come, let us go to the land Come, mariner, down in the deep with me Come, tune thy lyre to notes of love Drink to-night Droop not, my brother, I hear the glad strain. Fair daffodils we weep to see Far away! my home is far away ... Fly not yet, 'tis just the hour Have you not seen the timid tear? 89 41 115 96 103 89 131 15 He is ready to sail and he gazes with pride How dear to me the hour when daylight dies I did not love her for her face. I'd be your shadow, my own dear love 55 46 1 37 40 86 16 49 I'm waiting till you wipe away I met her in the primrose time. In that devotion which we breathe. In early manhood, fair and brave I'm leaving thee, my mother dear In the year, never mind, 'tis a long time ago In my cottage near a wood In the days when this old earth was young I sent a message by the rose I stood by a grave near my childhood's dear home I stood where the summer tide flowing I sing the praises of the wind ... It was not of his native skies. It cannot be so long ago It was yule and the snow kept falling... I've a home on the mountain I've journeyed over many lands I wish I could forget thee Jolly nose, the bright rubies which garnish thy tip 88 81 122 11 65 91 20 31 90 104 124 114 81 92 116 129 58 80 78 7 51 86 22 57 90 101 37 36 47 35 Mother, oh, sing me to rest My harp lies neglected, its strings have no tune. Near thee, still near thee! o'er thy pathway gliding Never forget the dear ones O bid your faithful Ariel fly Oh! a sacred thing is the wayside spring Oh! break not her silence, she listens to voices. Oh! call back the thought, let it die on the tongue. Oh! how delightful! oh! how entrancing Oh! happy forest glades Oh! remember the hour Oh! the old house at home, where my forefathers dwelt Oh! the old love, the true love Oh! thou to whom this heart Oh! would I were upon the deck One word is too often profaned One morn I left my boat to stray 42 10 129 99 O ye hours! ye sunny hours 72 Shall I compare thee to a summer's day 113 Sing no more, thy heart is crossed ... ... 52 Since, Jack, thou art a seaman's son 118 The cold North winds are blowing The glory of England shall rise... Sweet is the sound of rippling streams.... Take thee a lesson, lady fair The chimes the chimes! the joyous chimes. The grass is wet with shining dews The jolly old owl, like a monk in his cowl 53 109 68 64 26 34 104 123 97 On the banks of a beautiful river Out of the village they said they should miss him Our village was sad when the soldiers came The young rose which I gave thee so dewy and bright They say I may marry the laird if I will They say there's a secret charm which lies They tell me that the skies are blue 'There's a lad that I know, and I know that he There's a breeze on the hill There is a little bird that sings Thou art not with me when I tread Though poets and painters make Bacchus divine Thy name, thy worth, my buried love 'Tis years since last we met When I was in my teens When in death I shall calm recline When the lamp is shattered When wearied wretches sink to sleep While the morning light beams.... ... Why do the flowers bloom, mother? Wings! to bear me over With ardent pride Britannia's sons attend Will you let me tell you of a boy that went to sea? Wreck of the past, thou dost stand no more |