Oh! jewel, keep draming that same till you die,

And bright morning will give dirty night the black lie!

And 't is plaz'd that I am, and why not, to be sure?

Since 't is all for good luck," says bold Rory O'More.

Arrah, Kathleen, my darlint, you've teas'd me enough,

Sure I've thrash'd for your sake Dinny Grimes and Jim Duff;

And I've made myself, drinking your health, quite a baste,

So I think, after that, I may talk to the praste."

Then Rory, the rogue, stole his arm round her neck,

So soft and so white, without freckle or speck,

And he look'd in her eyes that were beaming with light,

And he kiss'd her sweet lips; - don't you think he was right?

"Now Rory, leave off, sir; you'll hug me

When everything smiles, should a beauty look glum?

Och hone! Widow Machree.
See the birds go in pairs,
And the rabbits and hares ·
Why even the bears

Now in couples agree;
And the mute little fish,
Though they can't spake, they wish,
Och hone! Widow Machree.

Widow Machree, and when winter comes in,

Och hone! Widow Machree,

To be poking the fire all alone is a sin,
Och hone! Widow Machree.
Sure the shovel and tongs
To each other belongs,
And the kettle sings songs

Full of family glee;
While alone with your cup,
Like a hermit, you sup,

Och hone! Widow Machree.

And how do you know, with the comforts I've towld,

Och hone! Widow Machree, But you're keeping some poor fellow out in the cowld?

Och hone! Widow Machree.
With such sins on your head
Sure your peace would be fled,
Could you sleep in your bed

Without thinking to see

Some ghost or some sprite,
That would wake you each night,

Crying, "Och hone! Widow Ma-
chree " ?

Then take my advice, darling Widow Machree,

Och hone! Widow Machree. And with my advice, faith I wish you'd take me,

Och hone! Widow Machree.
You'd have me to desire
Then to sit by the fire,
And sure Hope is no liar

In whispering to me,
That the ghosts would depart,
When you'd me near your heart,

Och hone! Widow Machree.

SOGGARTH AROON

Am I the slave they say, Soggarth aroon ? 1 Since you did show the way, Soggarth aroon,

Their slave no more to be,
While they would work with me
Old Ireland's slavery,
Soggarth aroon.

Why not her poorest man,
Soggarth aroon,

Try and do all he can,
Soggarth aroon,

Her commands to fulfil
Of his own heart and will,
Side by side with you still,
Soggarth aroon?

Loyal and brave to you,

Soggarth aroon,
Yet be not slave to you,
Soggarth aroon,

Nor, out of fear to you,
Stand up so near to you
Och! out of fear to you,
Soggarth aroon !

Who, in the winter's night,
Soggarth aroon,

When the cold blast did bite,
Soggarth aroon,

Came to my cabin-door,
And on my earthen-floor
Knelt by me, sick and poor,
Soggarth aroon?

Who, on the marriage day,
Soggarth aroon,

Made the poor cabin gay,
Soggarth aroon,

And did both laugh and sing,
Making our hearts to ring
At the poor christening,
Soggarth aroon ?

Who, as friend only met,
Soggarth aroon,
Never did flout me yet,
Soggarth aroon;

And when my hearth was dim,
Gave, while his eye did brim,
What I should give to him,
Soggarth aroon?

Och you, and only you,
Soggarth aroon !
And for this I was true to you,
Soggarth aroon !

Our love they'll never shake,
When for ould Ireland's sake
We a true part did take,
Soggarth aroon !

A PLACE IN THY MEMORY

A PLACE in thy memory, Dearest !
Is all that I claim:

To pause and look back when thou hearest
The sound of my name.
Another may woo thee, nearer ;
Another may win and wear;
I care not though he be dearer,
If I am remember'd there.

Remember me, not as a lover
Whose hope was cross'd,
Whose bosom can never recover
The light it hath lost!

As the young bride remembers the mother
She loves, though she never may see,
As a sister remembers a brother,

O Dearest, remember me !

Could I be thy true lover, Dearest !
Couldst thou smile on me,

SOUL AND COUNTRY

ARISE, my slumbering soul! arise,
And learn what yet remains for thee
To dree or do!

The signs are flaming in the skies;
A struggling world would yet be free,
And live anew.

The earthquake hath not yet been born
That soon shall rock the lands around,
Beneath their base;

Immortal Freedom's thunder horn
As yet yields but a doleful sound
To Europe's race.

Look round, my soul! and see,
If those about thee understand
Their mission here :

and say

The will to smite, the power to slay,
Abound in every heart and hand
Afar, anear;

But, God! must yet the conqueror's sword
Pierce mind, as heart, in this proud year?
O, dream it not!

It sounds a false, blaspheming word,
Begot and born of moral fear,
And ill-begot.

To leave the world a name is nought:
To leave a name for glorious deeds
And works of love,

A name to waken lightning thought
And fire the soul of him who reads,
This tells above.

Napoleon sinks to-day before
The ungilded shrine, the single soul
Of Washington:

Truth's name alone shall man adore
Long as the waves of Time shall roll
Henceforward on.

LAMENT OF THE IRISH EMI-
GRANT

I'm sittin' on the stile, Mary,
Where we sat side by side
On a bright May mornin' long ago,
When first you were my bride.

The corn was springin' fresh and green,
And the lark sang loud and high,
And the red was on your lip, Mary,
And the love-light in your eye.

The place is little changed, Mary,
The day is bright as then,
The lark's loud song is in my ear,

And the corn is green again;
But I miss the soft clasp of your hand,
And your breath, warm on my cheek:
And I still keep list'nin' for the words
You never more will speak.

'Tis but a step down yonder lane,

And the little church stands near The church where we were wed, Mary; I see the spire from here. But the graveyard lies between, Mary, And my step might break your rest For I've laid you, darling, down to sleep, With your baby on your breast.

I'm very lonely now, Mary,

For the poor make no new friends;
But, oh! they love the better still.
The few our Father sends.
And you were all I had, Mary,

My blessin' and my pride:
There's nothing left to care for now,
Since my poor Mary died.

Yours was the good, brave heart, Mary,
That still kept hoping on,

When the trust in God had left my soul,
And my arm's young strength was

gone;

There was comfort ever on your lip,

And the kind look on your brow -
I bless you, Mary, for that same,
Though you cannot hear me now.

I thank you for the patient smile
When your heart was fit to break,
When the hunger pain was gnawin' there,
And you hid it for my sake;

I bless you for the pleasant word,

When your heart was sad and sore-
Oh! I'm thankful you are gone, Mary,
Where grief can't reach you more!

I'm biddin' you a long farewell,
My Mary kind and true!
But I'll not forget you, darling,
In the land I'm goin' to:

They say there 's bread and work for all,

And the sun shines always there,
But I'll not forget old Ireland,
Were it fifty times as fair!

And often in those grand old woods
I'll sit, and shut my eyes,
And my heart will travel back again
To the place where Mary lies;
And I'll think I see the little stile
Where we sat side by side,

And the springin' corn, and the bright May

morn,

When first you were my bride.

WE HAVE BEEN FRIENDS TOGETHER

We have been friends together,

In sunshine and in shade; Since first beneath the chestnut-trees In infancy we played.

But coldness dwells within thy heart,
A cloud is on thy brow;
We have been friends together -
Shall a light word part us now?

We have been gay together;

We have laugh'd at little jests;