Page:Wreath of song, or, Favourite airs for the lovers of music.pdf/16

 16 And wilt thou o'er his much lov'd clay Strew flowers, and drop the tender tear ; Where thou wert fairest of the fair?

FAREWELL, FAREWELL. Farewell, farewell, dear Erin's Isle ? My native land, adieu ! I've seen thy hours of sunshine smile, And mark'd thy sorrows too. The pale moon trembles on the deep, To the But ere the morning dawn, The winds will only hear me weep For thee, my Peggy Bawn. And though I haste beyond the sea, Where sweeter scenes may smile, My heart unchang'd will turn to thee My own, my native isle. But now a long, a kind farewell, To mountain, grove, and lawn, While tears alone my parting tell, From thee, my Peggy Bawn.