Page:Vocal miscellany.pdf/30



That ardour of passion for me that he pleaded, By what female breast could 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 rous'd each emotion,
 * Unrivall'd 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.'

On it oft I've dream'd, that he sat in this bower, And touch'd the sad tale of his exile with power, Each soul-glowing patriot the strains did devour,
 * Struck full to the magic of Erin go bragh!

But cease, ye vain dreams! for at morn still I him,
 * And cease, my false hopes! for my griefs must ."

"No, they must not! (he cried, and he rush'd her bosom)
 * Your Exile's return'd to his Erin again.

Now fall'n are th' oppressors that sought to destroy me, Love, friendship, and Erin, shall henceforth me;" "'Tis himself!" she exclaim'd, "O, ye powers! o'erjoy me;
 * Then blest be my country, blest Erin go bragh."