Then fly with me,-if thou hast known Come, if the love thou hast for me, But if for me thou dost forsake Then, fare thee well; I'd rather make THOMAS MOORE. LOVELY MARY DONNELLY. O, LOVELY Mary Donnelly, it's you I love the best! If fifty girls were around you, I'd hardly see the rest; The dance o' last Whit Monday night exceed ed all before No pretty girl for miles around was missing from the floor; But Mary kept the belt of love, and O! but she was gay; She danced a jig, she sung a song, and took my heart away! When she stood up for dancing, her steps were so complete, The music nearly killed itself, to listen to her feet; The fiddler mourned his blindness, he heard her so much praised; But blessed himself he wasn't deaf when once her voice she raised. And evermore I'm whistling or lilting what you sung; Your smile is always in my heart, your name beside my tongue. But you've as many sweethearts as you'd count on both your hands, And for myself there's not a thumb or little finger stands. O, you 're the flower of womankind, in country or in town; The higher I exalt you the lower I'm cast down. Be what it may the time of day, the place be If some great Lord should come this way and where it will, Sweet looks of Mary Donnelly, they bloom And you to be his lady, I'd own it was but see your beauty bright, sues, WERE I BUT HIS OWN WIFE. So she could n't but choose to-go off to WERE I but his own wife, to guard and to the dancing. And now on the green the glad groups are seen Each gay-hearted lad with the lass of his choosing; And Pat, without fail, leads out sweet Kitty Neil guide him, 'Tis little of sorrow should fall on my dear; I'd chant my low love verses, stealing beside him, So faint and so tender his heart would but hear; Somehow, when he asked, she ne'er thought I'd pull the wild blossoms from valley and of refusing. Now Felix Magee puts his pipes to his knee, And, with flourish so free, sets each couple in motion; With a cheer and a bound, the lads patter the ground highland; And there at his feet I would lay them all down; I'd sing him the songs of our poor stricken island, Till his heart was on fire with a love like my own. The maids move around just like swans on There's a rose by his dwelling—I'd tend the 'Tis little of sorrow should fall on my COME in the evening, or come in the morning dear; For every kind glance my whole life would award him In sickness I'd soothe and in sadness I'd cheer. My heart is a fount welling upward for ever When I think of my true love, by night or by day, That heart keeps its faith like a fast-flowing river Which gushes for ever and sings on its way. I have thoughts full of peace for his soul to repose in, Come when you 're looked for, or come with out warning; Kisses and welcome you'll find here before you, And the oftener you come here the more I'll adore you! Light is my heart since the day we were plighted; Red is my cheek that they told me was blighted; The green of the trees looks far greener than ever, And the linnets are singing, "true lovers don't sever!" II. Were I but his own wife, to win and to I'll pull you sweet flowers, to wear if you choose them! Or, after you've kissed them, they 'll lie on my bosom; I'll fetch from the mountain its breeze to in spire you; I'll fetch from my fancy a tale that won't tire you. O! your step 's like the rain to the summer vexed farmer, Or sabre and shield to a knight without armor; I'll sing you sweet songs till the stars rise above me, Then, wandering, I'll wish you, in silence, to love me. III. We'll look through the trees at the cliff and the eyrie; We'll tread round the rath on the track of the fairy; We'll look on the stars, and we'll list to the river, Till you ask of your darling what gift you can give her O she'll whisper you-"Love, as un changeably beaming, And trust, when in secret, most tunefully streaming; |