THE
FAIRY-BOAT.
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The
winds are hushed, the waves are still—
All nature seems to catch
the tone,
And calmly list the Clar’net’s thrill,
And notes of days that now
are gone. [Page 176]
Yes—I have heard, in happier hours,
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That
sweet, that fairy breath of song,
While yet my path was strewed with flowers,
My own, my native hills
among.
And now, as o’er the water’s brim
That little bark of pleasure
steers,
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Through
time’s extended vista, dim,
It wakes the joys of other
years—
Joys, happy joys, that long have slept,
Now memory’s page
unfolds again,
And all the scenes o’er which I’ve wept,
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Seem
half revived in music’s strain.
And I am sure, that heart and hand,
So happily each soft note
swelling,
Are not unknown to Erin’s land,
And seem as if her sorrows
telling! [Page 177] |
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For peace no longer crowns her hills—
No shell of gladness cheers
her hall—
No evening dance—by purling rills
Her daughters led the festive
ball.
Oh! there’s a pleasing sadness thrown—
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A
melancholy bliss, that steals
Along the heart, and makes it own
The power that melody reveals—
When thus, on Zephyr’s airy wing,
Notes loved in boyhood reach
the ear—
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The
notes my MARY joyed to sing,
By LOUGHNEAGH’S banks
when I was near.
But I have left my own dear lakes,
My cottage maid and humble
home,
To wander here, through woods and brakes,
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Where
free as air the Indians roam. [Page 178]
Yet, ERIN! though we sadly part,
My soul’s devotion
bends to thee,
With all the fervour of a heart
That pants to know that
thou art free.
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And when that foul, unholy chain
The patriot-hand shall proudly
break,
I’ll string my native harp again,
And all its former songs
awake. [Page 179]
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