Gra Gal Asthore! Yet never from my lips you'll know, Gra Gal Asthore ! Who worked our ruin here below, Gra Gal Asthore ! Why should I make your tears to flow? Gra Gal Asthore ! Your babe upon your breast can bring Gra Gal Asthore ! Joy in the midst of sorrowing, Gra Gal Asthore ! Would I new shadows o'er you fling? Gra Gal Asthore ! Oh! sometimes, when they say you're sad, Gra Gal Asthore ! God pardon me! my heart is glad, Gra Gal Asthore ! You're thinking of the joy we had, Gra Gal Asthore ! Oh! He is just: the day will be, Gra Gal Asthore ! When all made clear 'tween you and me, Gra Gal Asthore ! Our lives' destroyer you will see, Gra Gal Asthore ! 61 IN THE "BAD TIMES." 66 AURICE asthore, it's the night that's cowld, Asthore, I know your heart is sick "See, I'm as willin' as the day— There's the two colleens and the boys- Whisht, whisht, allannahs, whisht your noise : "Is it the pain, asthore machree "? My Dermot. 63 MY DERMOT. Y Dermot, lave me, But don't desave me, Wid flatterin' words, that can't come thrue, As to think it's fated, That a poor little colleen is to match wid you. Shure my heart's love is given To you and to Heaven, Och, wirrasthrue, you've the biggest part; But, Love, don't mind me, The salt tears may blind me, But they'll never know I've a breakin' heart. Don't you come near me, Or thry to cheer me, I'll bear it betther if I'm let alone; Shure God may send healin' For this sore, sore feelin', And His angels pity me when you are gone. Asthore, you're sighin', But you're not replyin', We were born for this throuble-both me and you ; What! you coudn't lave me, And you'll not desave me, Och, Holy Mother-Is it thrue? Is it thrue ? A LITTLE FLIRT. LIRTING, laughing, chattering Polly, Tho' it sounds like utter folly, Yet of you I'm half afraid. There you go, your ringlets flying, Stop awhile, you tyrant tiny, Don't jerk thus your dress away, Let me stroke these tresses shiny, While you hear what I've to say. You are cruel-come, no pouting-- Late I saw you with poor Harry, Then with handsome Ned you're walking, Go, you laughing chattering darling; Harold and Edith. 65 E HAROLD AND EDITH. (From "Harold, the Last of the Saxon Kings.") ASSION and pain were on his brow, While firm resolve had left its trace "I come to tell thee all is o'er, "Hush! hush! be still, thou faithful heart, Slowly her eyes to his she raised, And tenderly upon him gazed: Harold, my own loved one," she said, "To thee I must be as the dead, "Another bride they bid thee take, 66 'Nay, shrink not, lest my heart should break. ""Tis for our own dear country's sake, "Not to a woman I resign All the dear hopes that once were mine; |