When blushes mantle o'er that rosy cheek,
And trembling hover,
Doth dreaming mem'ry to her young heart speak
Of me, her lover?
My bird of love lies hush'd within her nest,
Sad hours I number;
Ah, if this fond heart were her place of rest
How calm my slumber;
But what avails this sighing of my heart,
This ceaseless yearning,
When not one glance those witching eyes impart,
My love returning.
NEAR WOODSTOCK TOWN.
[Old English ditty.]
NEAR Woodstock town, in Oxfordshire,
As I walk'd forth to take the air,
To view the fields and meadows round,
Methought I heard a mournful sound.
Down by a crystal river side,
A gallant bower I espied,
Where a fair lady made great moan,
With many a bitter sigh and groan.
"Alas!" quoth she, "my love's unkind,
My sighs and tears he will not mind;
But he is cruel unto me,
Which causes all my misery.
Soon after he had gain'd my heart,
He cruelly did from me part;
Another maid he does pursue,
And to his vows he bids adieu."
The lady round the meadow run,
And gather'd flowers as they sprung,
Of ev'ry sort she there did pull,
Until she got her apron full.
The green ground serv'd her as a bed,
And flow'rs a pillow for her head;
She laid her down, and nothing spoke,—
Alas! for love her heart was broke.
[Music by S. GLOVER.
HARK! hark! the bells, the merry bells
That hail again the glad new year!
Upon the breeze their music swells,
Resounding tuneful, loud and clear;
That gladsome sound it sheds around
A cheerful voice, that seems to say,
"From every heart let care depart,
It is the merry New Year's day."
Hark! hark! how sweet the music
swells-
The merry, merry New Year's bells!
1st Voice.
Those joyous bells they bring to mind
Those early days, those other times,
When first we heard upon the wind
Those happy, joyous New Year's
chimes.
They teach us still, tho' years fly past,
Our friendship keeps still warm and
true;
We hear them as we heard them last,
And find our hearts as changeless too.
Hark! hark! &c.
Oh! happy bells! sweet New Year's bells,
Still may long distant be the time
For us no more their music swells,
For us the joyous New Year's chime;
Long may they sound to shed around
Their gladsome voice, that seems to say,
"From every heart let care depart,
It is the merry New Year's-day !"
Hark! hark! &c.
A WIND came up out of the sea,
And said, "O mists! make room for me:"
It hail'd the ships, and cried, "Sail on,
"Ye mariners, the night is gone!"
And hurried landward far away,
Crying, "Awake! it is the day!"
It said unto the forest, "Shout!
"Hang all your leafy banners out!"
It touch'd the wood-bird's folded wing,
And said, "O bird, awake and sing!"
And o'er the farms, "O chanticleer,
"Your clarion blow, the day is near !"
It whispered to the fields of corn,
"Bow down, and hail the coming morn!"
It shouted through the belfry tow'r,
"Awake, O bell! proclaim the hour!"
It cross'd the churchyard with a sigh,
And said, "Not yet-in quiet lie !"
FILL HIGH TO HIM THAT'S FAR
No, never shall my soul forget
The friends I found so cordial-hearted;
Dear, dear, shall be the day we met,
And dear shall be the night we parted.
Oh, if regret, however sweet,
Must with the lapse of time decay,
Yet still, when thus in mirth you meet,
Fill high to him that's far away.
Long be the flame of memory found
Alive within your social glass:
Let that be still the magic round
O'er which oblivion dares not pass !
THE DREAM OF ST. AGNES' EVE.
J. E. CARPENTER.]
[Music by E. L. HIME,
A MAIDEN bright lov'd a gay young knight,
Whose form was fair, tho' his heart was light;
He'd laugh, he'd dance, and he'd sweetly sing,
But he never spoke of the wedding ring;
So the maid resolved that the spell she'd weave,
And dream the dream of St. Agnes' Eve.
St. Agnes she, for a saint, was bold,
In a roundabout way she fortunes told;
For dreams she'd give, as the legend tells,
And those who rightly could weave her spells,
If their loves were true would a kiss receive
While they dreamt the dream of St. Agnes' Eve!
The maiden went to a grassy spot,
The words she said, and she knit the knot,-
Then laid her down as the legend told
(She brought her cloak for the night was cold),
But never did maid a kiss receive
So loud before on St. Agnes' Eve!
The maiden woke in a perfect fright!
When lo! at her feet knelt the gay young knight;
He'd watched her leave at the close of day,
And followed her steps o'er the fields away,
The ring he'd bought, and you'll well believe
They married soon after St. Agnes' Eve!
ST. SENANUS AND THE LADY.
"OH! haste and leave this sacred isle,
Unholy bark, ere morning smile;
For on thy deck, though dark it be,
A female form I see ;
And I have sworn this sainted sod
Shall ne'er by woman's feet be trod."
"Oh! father, send not hence my bark,
Through wintry winds and billows dark;
I come with humble heart to share
Thy morn and evening prayer;
Nor mine the feet, oh! holy saint,
The brightness of thy sod to taint."
The lady's prayer Senanus spurn'd;
The winds blew fresh, the bark return'd;
But legends hint, that had the maid
Till morning's light delay'd,
And given the saint one rosy smile,
She ne'er had left his lonely isle.
In a metrical life of St. Senanus, which is taken from an old Kilkenny MS., and may be found among the Acta Sanctorum Hiberniæ, we are told of his flight to the island of Scattery, and his resolution not to admit any woman of the party; he refused to receive even a sister saint (St. Cannera), whom an angel had taken to the island, for the express purpose of introducing her to him. The following was the ungracious answer of Senanus, according to his poetical biographer:
Cui præsul, quid fœminis
Commune est cum monachis,
Neque ullam aliam
Admittendus in insulam.
See the Acta Sanct. Hib., page 610.
According to Dr. Ledwich, St. Senanus was no less a personage than the river Shannon, but O'Connor and other antiquarians deny this metamorphose indignantly.
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