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24

THE BLACKBIRD.

THE EXILE'S RETURN

O'ER the hills of Slief gallen as homeward he wander d. The Exile of Erin oft paused with delight,

To dear recollection his soul he surrender'd

And each well known object returned to his sight. Here was the brook oft he leap'd so light hearted, Here was the bower where with love first he smarted, And here was the old oak where, when he departed, He carved his last farewell, 'twas Erin go Bragh.

His heart wild was beating, when softy assail'd him
The sound of a harp, O, he listened with joy ;
What quick'ning emotions his visage revealed them,
And the fire of his country beamed strong in his eye.
A sweet female voice soon the love strains attended,
'Twas dear to his fond soul that o'er it suspended,
With each note the feeling of accent ascended,
Struck full to the magic of Erin go Bragh.

I once had a lover, thus ran the sweet numbers,

Now doomed far from me and his country to mourn, Perhaps in the cold bed of death e'en he slumbers—

My soul, can'st thou think he will ever return?
Yes he shall, for he lives, and his past woes redressing,
His country will hail him with smiles and caressing,
Then lock'd in thy arms he'll pronounce her his blessing,
That country which wronged him, his Erin go Bragh.

As a lamb he was meek, as a dove he was tender,
And form'd was his bosom for friendship and love,
But call'd by his country, still swift to defend her,
Undaunted and swift as the Eagle he'd move.
That ardour of passion for me which he pleaded,
By what female breast would it have been unheeded,
The love of his country alone could exceed it,
For still his first wish was for Erin go Bragh.

This harp, on whose strings oft he's roused each emotion,
Unrivalled the soft tones of feeling to draw,

He left me the pledge of his heart's true devotion,
And bade me oft strike it to Erin go Bragh.
O'er it oft I have dream'd that he sat in this bower,
And touch'd the sad tale of his exile with power;
Ench soul glowing Patriot the strains did devour,
Struck fill to do rombine of Par

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SIEGE OF PLATTSBURGH.

Backside of Albany, tan Lake Champlain,
One little pond half full of water-
Plattsburgh dare too, close upon de main-
Town, small-he grow bigger do hereafter
On Lake Champlain
Uncle Sam set he Boat;

And Massa Macdonough, he sail 'em-
While Gen'ral M⭑Comb,

Make Plattsburgh he home,

Wid he army, whose courage nebber fail 'em

Eleventh day of September

In eighteen hundred and fourteen : Gubbener Probose, and he British soldier, Come to Plattsburgh, a Tea-party courtin. An' he Boat come too,

Arter Uncle Sam Boat

Massy Donough do, look sharp out he winder?
Den Gen'ral M.Comb,

Ah! he always home!

Catch fire too, jiss like a tinder!

Bow! wow! wow! den de Cannon 'gin t' roar
In Plattsburgh, an' all 'bout dat quarter-
Gubbener Probose try he hand 'pun de shore,
While he Boat take he luck 'pun de water
But Massa Macdonough

Kick he Boat in de head!

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Break he heart, broke he shin, 'tove he calf in-
An' Gen'ral M'Comb,

Start old Probose home!

Taught me soul den, I muss die a laffin.

Probose scart so, he left all behind

Powder, ball, cannon, tea-pot an' kettle— Some say, he cotch a cold, perish in he mind, 'Bloig'd eat so much raw, an' cold vittle Uncle Sam, berry sorry

To be sure for he pain

Wish he nurse himself up, well an' hearty
For Gen'ral M⭑Comb

An' Massy Donough home,

THE STAR SPANGLED BANNER.

Tune-Anacreon in Heaven.

OH! say, can you see by the dawn's early light,
What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming,
Whose proud stripes and bright stars through the perilous

tight,

O'er the ramparts we watch'd were so gallantly streaming And the rockets red glare,

The bombs bursting in air,

Gave proof through the night
That our flag was still there.

Oh! say, does the star spangled banner still wave,
O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave!

On the shore dimly seen through the mists of the deep,
Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes,
What is that which he breeze o'er yon tow'ring steep,
As it fitfully blows, nalf conceals, half discloses ;
Now it catches the gleam,

Of the morning's first beam,
In full glory reflected,

Now shines in the stream;

Tis the star bangled banner, O! long may it wave,
O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave.

And where is that band, who so vauntingly swore
That the havoc of war, and the battle's confusion,
A home and a country shall leave us no more,
Their blood has wash'd out their foul foot-steps' pollution.
No refuge can save

The hireling and slave,
From the terror of flight,

Or the gloom of the grave,

And the star spangled banner, in triumph shall wave,
O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave.

O! thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand

Between their lov'd home, and the war's desolation,
Bless'd with vict'ry and peace, may the heaven rescu'd land
Praise the power that hath made and preserv'd us a nation
Then conquer we must,
For our cause it is just,
And this be our motto-
;

In God is our trust

And the star spangled banner in triumph shall wave,
O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave

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SANDY AND JENNY.

Come, come, bonny Lassie, cried Sandy, awa',
Whilst mither is spinning, and father's afa',
The folks are at work, and the bairns are at play,
And we will be married, dear Jenny, to-day.

Stay, stay, bonny Laddie, then cried 1 with speed,
I wo'na, I ma'na, go with you indeed;
Besides should I do so, what would the folks say,
So we canna marry, dear Sandy, to-day.

List, list, bonny Lassie, and mind what you do,
For Peggy and Patty I gave up for you;
Besides, a full twelve-month we've trifled away,
And one or the other I'll marry to-day.

Fie, fie, bonny Laddie, then cried I again,
For Peggy you kiss'd t'other day on the plain;
Besides a new ribbon does Patty display,
And we canna marry, dear Sandy, to-day.

O, then, a good-bye, bonny Lassie, cried he,
For Peggy and Patty are waiting for me;
The kırk is hard by, and the bell calls away,
And Peggy or Patty I'll marry to-day.

Stay, stay, bonny Laddie, cried I, with a smile,
For know, I was jesting indeed, all the while;
Let Peggy go spin, and send Patty away,
And we will be married, dear Sandy, to-day.

THE THORN.

From the white blossom'd sloe, my dear Chloe requested A sprig, her fair breast to adorn,

No, by heaven! I exclaim'd, may I perish,

If ever I plant in that bosom a thorn.

Then I show'd her a ring, and implor'd her to marry; She blush'd like the dawning of morn;

Yes, I'll consent, she repli'd, if you'll promise That no jealous rival shall laugh me to scorn; by heav'n! I exclaim'd, may I perish,

ever I plant in that bosom a thoro

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