Blow, breezes, blow, the stream runs fast, The rapids are near and the daylight's Away to the Dismal Swamp he speeds- 10 Oh! sweetly we'll rest our weary oar. past. Utawas' tide! this trembling moon Shall see us float over thy surges soon. 15 Saint of this green isle! hear our prayers, Oh, grant us cool heavens and favoring airs. Blow, breezes, blow, the stream runs fast, From IRISH MELODIES 1807 28 OH, BREATHE NOT HIS NAME! Oh, breathe not his name! let it sleep in the shade, Where cold and unhonored his relics are laid; Sad, silent, and dark be the tears that we shed, As the night-dew that falls on the grass o'er his head. 5 But the night-dew that falls, though in silence it weeps, Shall brighten with verdure the grave where he sleeps; And the tear that we shed, though in secret it rolls, Shall long keep his memory green in our souls. WHEN HE WHO ADORES THEE When he who adores thee has left but the And said, "No chains shall sully thee, Thou soul of love and bravery! 15 Thy songs were made for the pure and free, They shall never sound in slavery." FAREWELL!-BUT WHENEVER YOU WELCOME THE HOUR Farewell!-but whenever you welcome the hour That awakens the night-song of mirth in your bower, Then think of the friend who once welcom'd it too, And forgot his own griefs to be happy with you. 5 His griefs may return, not a hope may remain Of the few that have brighten'd his pathway of pain, But he ne'er will forget the short vision that threw Its enchantment around him, while ling'ring with you. And still on that evening, when pleasure fills up 10 To the highest top sparkle each heart and each cup, Where'er my path lies, be it gloomy or bright, My soul, happy friends, shall be with you that night; Shall join in your revels, your sports, and your wiles, And return to me, beaming all o'er with your smiles 15 Too blest, if it tells me that, 'mid the gay cheer, Some kind voice had murmur'd, “I wish he were here!" |