Advertisement. IF I had consulted only my own judgment, this Work would not have extended beyond the Six Numbers already published; which contain, perhaps, the flower of our National Melodies, and have attained a rank in public favour, of which I would not willingly risk the forfeiture, by degenerating, in any way, from those merits that were its source. Whatever treasures of our music were still in reserve, (and it will be seen, I trust, that they are numerous and valuable,) I would gladly have left to future poets to glean, and, with the ritual words "tibi trado," would have delivered up the torch into other hands, before it had lost much of its light in my own. But the call for a continuance of the work has been, as I understand from the Publisher, so general, and we have received so many contributions of old and beautiful airs,* the suppression of which, for the enhancement of those we have published, would resemble too much the policy of the Dutch in burning their spices, that I have been persuaded, though not without considerable diffidence in my success, to commence a new series of the Irish Melodies. T. M. * One Gentleman, in particular, whose name I shall feel happy in being allowed to mention, has not only sent us nearly forty ancient airs, but has communicated many curious fragments of Irish poetry, and some interesting traditions, current in the country where he resides, illustrated by sketches of the romantic scenery to which they refer; all of which, though too late for the present Number, will be of infinite service to us in the prosecution of our task. IRISE MELODIES. No. VII. MY GENTLE HARP! AIR. The Coina, or Dirge. I. My gentle Harp! once more I waken But-like those harps, whose heavenly skill Of slavery, dark as thine, hath spokenThou hang'st upon the willows still. II. And yet, since last thy chord resounded, With hopes-that now are turn'd to shame. III. Then, who can ask for notes of pleasure, Alas, the lark's gay morning measure As ill would suit the swan's decline! Or how shall I, who love, who bless thee, Invoke thy breath for Freedom's strains, When even the wreaths in which I dress thee, Are sadly mix'd-half flowers, half chains! IV. But come,-if yet thy frame can borrow AS SLOW OUR SHIP. AIR.-The Girl I left behind me. I. As slow our ship her foamy track II. When, round the bowl, of vanish'd years Oh, sweet's the cup that circles then III. And when, in other climes, we meet Some isle, or vale enchanting, * Dimidio magicæ resonant ubi Memnone chordæ, Atque vetus Thebe centum jacet obruta portis. JUVENAL. We think how great had been our bliss, To live and die in scenes like this, IV. As trav❜llers oft look back, at eve, Still faint behind them glowing,- IN THE MORNING OF LIFE. AIR.-The little Harvest Rose. I. In the morning of life, when its cares are unknown, We can love, as in hours of less transport we may ;Of our smiles, of our hopes, 'tis the gay sunny prime, But affection is warmest when these fade away. II. When we see the first glory of youth pass us by, Like a leaf on the stream that will never return; When our cup, which had sparkled with pleasure so high, First tastes of the other, the dark-flowing urn; Then, then is the moment affection can sway With a depth and a tenderness joy never knew; Love, nurs'd among pleasures, is faithless as they, But the Love, born of Sorrow, like Sorrow is true. III. In climes full of sunshine, though splendid their dyes, So the wild glow of passion may kindle from mirth, But 'tis only in grief true affection appears ;— And ev❜n tho' to smiles it may first owe its birth, All the soul of its sweetness is drawn out by tears! WHEN COLD IN THE EARTH, 1. WHEN cold in the earth lies the friend thou hast loved, From the path ways of light he was tempted to roam, II. From thee and thy innocent beauty first came The revealings, that taught him true Love to adore, To feel the bright presence, and turn him with shame From the idols he blindly had knelt to before. O'er the waves of a life, long benighted and wild, Thou camest, like a soft golden calm o'er the sea; And, if happiness purely and glowingly smiled On his evening horizon, the light was from thee. III. And tho', sometimes, the shade of past folly would rise, And the folly, the falsehood, soon vanish'd away. So, if virtue a moment grew languid in him, REMEMBER THEE! AIR.-Castle Tirowen. I. REMEMBER thee! yes, while there's life in this heart, It shall never forget thee, all lorn as thou art, K |