John Francis Waller KITTY NEIL “Aн, sweet Kitty Neil, rise up from that wheel, Your neat little foot will be weary from spinning; Come trip down with me to the sycamoretree, Half the parish is there, and the dance is beginning. The sun is gone down, but the full harvest moon Search the world all round, from the sky to the ground, No such sight can be found as an Sweet Kate! who could view your bright eyes of deep blue, Beaming humidly through their dark lashes so mildly, Your fair-turned arm, heaving breast, rounded form, Nor feel his heart warm, and his pulses throb wildly; Young Pat feels his heart, as he gazes, depart, Subdued by the smart of such painful yet sweet love; The sight leaves his eye, as he cries with a sigh, "Dance light, for my heart it lies under your feet, love!" A SPINNING-WHEEL SONG MELLOW the moonlight to shine is beginning; Close by the window young Eileen is spinning; Bent o'er the fire, her blind grandmother, sitting, Is croaning, and moaning, and drowsily knitting: "Eileen, achora, I hear some one tapping." ""Tis the ivy, dear mother, against the glass flapping." "Eileen, I surely hear somebody sighing." ""Tis the sound, mother dear, of the summer wind dying." Merrily, cheerily, noisily whirring, Swings the wheel, spins the reel, while the foot's stirring; Sprightly, and lightly, and airily ringing, Thrills the sweet voice of the young maiden singing. "What's that noise that I hear at the window, I wonder?" ""Tis the little birds chirping the hollybush under.” Slower and slower-and slower the wheel swings; Lower and lower-and lower the reel rings; Ere the reel and the wheel stopp'd their ringing and moving, The maid shakes her head, on her lip lays Through the grove the young lovers by her fingers, moonlight are roving. These hookers cross'd from stormy Skull, that skiff from Affadown; They only found the smoking walls with neighbors' blood besprent, And on the strewed and trampled beach awhile they wildly went, Then dash'd to sea, and pass'd Cape Clear, Oh, some must tug the galley's oar, and some must tend the steed; This boy will bear a Scheik's chibouk, and that a Bey's jerreed. Oh, some are for the arsenals by beauteous Dardanelles ; And some are in the caravan to Mecca's sandy dells. The maid that Bandon gallant sought is chosen for the Dey: She's safe-she's dead she stabb'd him in the midst of his Serai ! And when to die a death of fire that noble maid they bore, She only smiled, O'Driscoll's child; she thought of Baltimore. Or, after you've kiss'd them, they 'll lie on my bosom ; I'll fetch from the mountain its breeze to inspire you; I'll fetch from my fancy a tale that won't tire you. Oh! your step's like the rain to the summervex'd farmer, Or sabre and shield to a knight without armor; I'll sing you sweet songs till the stars rise above me, Then, wandering, I'll wish you in silence to love me. We'll look through the trees at the cliff and the eyrie; We'll tread round the rath on the track of the fairy; We'll look on the stars, and we'll list to |