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4 O LEAVE ME TO MY SORROW:

A Ballad, from the Melodies of various Nations. Arranged by Sir J. Stevenson,

O leave me to my sorrow ! For my heart is oppressed to-day; O leave me ! and to-morrow Dark shadows may pass away. There's a time when all that grieves Is felt with a deeper gloom ; There's a time when hope deceives us, And we dream of bright days to come.

In winter, from the mountain, The stream like a torrent flows; In summer, the same fountain Is calm as a child's repose. Thus in grief the first pangs wound us, And tears of despair gush on; Time brings forth new flowers around us, And the tide of our grief is gone.

Then heed not my pensive hours, Nor bid me be cheerful now; Chun sunshine raise the flowers That droop on a blighted bough? The lake in the tempest wears not The brightness its slumber wore- The heart of the mourner eares not For joys that were dear before.

THE SONG OF THE OLDEN TIME.

Written and composed by Thomas Moore, Esq.

There's a song of the olden time, Falling sad o'er the car, Like the dream of some village chime, Which in youth we loved to hear.