The hypocrite haters Of Goodness and Truth, Of the sun through the skies; To the last do your duty, Still mindful of this — LOVE BALLAD. LONELY from my home I come, Lonely from my lonesome home, My lonesome house of grief and gloom, While I keep Vigil often all night long, For your dear, dear sake, Praying many a prayer so wrong That my heart would break! Gladly, O my blighted flower, Sweet Apple of my bosom's Tree, Stretch me in your dark death-bower But we'll meet ere many a day Never more to part, For ev'n now I feel the clay Gathering round my heart. In my soul doth darkness dwell, And through its dreary winding caves Ever flows with moaning swell, One ebbless flood of many Waves, Death, love, has me in his lures, So my ghost may meet with yours When the neighbors near my cot For, oh! 't is a weary lot This watching eye, and wooing sleep I arise, and seek your grave, And pour forth my tears; Often turns my memory back To that dear evening in the dell, Sheltered by the sloe-bush black, Sat, laughed, and talked, while thick sleet fell, And cold rain. Thanks to God! no guilty leaven Dashed our childish mirth. You rejoice for this in Heaven, Love! the priests feel wroth with me To find I shrine your image still Since you are gone eternally, And your fair frame lies in the chill But true Love outlives the shroud, Well may now your kindred mourn On the child they left forlorn! They broke the tenderest heart of hearts, And she died. Curse upon the love of show! Curse on Pride and Greed! They would wed you 'high'—and woe! Here behold their meed! LADY DUFFERIN. LAMENT OF THE IRISH EMIGRANT. I'm sittin' on the stile, Mary, Where we sat side by side On a bright May mornin' long ago, The place is little changed, Mary, 'Tis but a step down yonder lane, But the grave-yard lies between, Mary, And my step might break your restFor 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, Since my poor Mary died. Your's 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 heart was fit to break, When your 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! |