SONGS. 289 THE ANNOYER. LOVE knoweth every form of air, He peeps into the warrior's heart He'll come to his tent in the weary night, Reproof on her lip, but a smile in her eye"With your tricks, I don't know, in throth, what I'm about; And he'll float to his eye in the morning light, Faith you 've teazed till I've put on my cloak Like a fay on a silver beam. He hears the sound of the hunter's gun, And sighs in his ear like a stirring leaf, The shade of the wood, and the sheen of the river, The cloud and the open sky, He will haunt them all with his subtle quiver, Like the light of your very eye. The fisher hangs over the leaning boat, And a spell of thought has he; He heaves the wave like a boŝom sweet, He blurs the print of the scholar's book, In the darkest night, and the bright daylight, In earth, and sea, and sky, In every home of human thought Will Love be lurking nigh. NATHANIEL PARKER WILLIS. inside out." "Och! jewel," says Rory, "that same is the way You've thrated my heart for this many a day; And 'tis plazed that I am, and why not, to be sure? For 't is all for good luck," says bold Rory O'More. II. "Indeed, then," says Kathleen, "don't think of the like, For I half gave a promise to soothering Mike; The ground that I walk on he loves, I'll be bound" "Faith!" says Rory, "I'd rather love you than the ground." "Now, Rory, I'll cry if you don't let me go; Sure I dream ev'ry night that I'm hating you so!" "Och!" says Rory, "that same I'm delighted to hear, For dhrames always go by conthraries, my dear. Och! jewel, keep dhraming that same till you die, And bright morning will give dirty night the black lie! Then your lips! O, machree! In their beautiful glow They a pattern might be For the cherries to grow. SONGS. 'Twas an apple that tempted our mother, we know, For apples were scarce, I suppose, long ago; But at this time o' day, 'Pon my conscience I'll say, Such cherries might tempt a man's father! Och hone! weirasthru ! I'm alone in this world without you. Och hone! by the man in the moon, That a woman can plaze, For you dance twice as high with that thief, Pat Magee, 291 And tho' you're fair and fresh as a morning in May, While she's short and dark like a cold winter's day, Yet if you don't repent SAMUEL LOVER. WIDOW MACHREE. I. As when you take share of a jig, dear, with WIDOW machree, it's no wonder you frown— Och hone! Widow machree; Faith, it ruins your looks, that same dirty black gown Och hone! Widow machree. How altered your air, With that close cap you wear— 'Tis destroying your hair, Which should be flowing free: Be no longer a churl Of its black silken curl Och hone! Widow machree! II. Widow machree, now the summer is comeOch hone! Widow machree! When every thing smiles, should a beauty look glum? Och hone! Widow machree! Now in couples agree; Though they can't spake, they wish- III. Widow machree, and when winter comes in— To be poking the fire all alone is a sin, I LOVED him not; and yet, now he is gone, I feel I am alone. I checked him while he spoke; yet, could he speak, Alas! I would not check. For reasons not to love him once I sought, And wearied all my thought To vex myself and him; I now would give My love, could he but live But you're keeping some poor fellow out in Who lately lived for me, and, when he found the cowld, Och hone! Widow machree! That would wake you each night, Crying, "Och hone! Widow machree!" V. 'T was vain, in holy ground He hid his face amid the shades of death! I waste for him my breath Who wasted his for me; but mine returns, And this lone bosom burns With stifling heat, heaving it up in sleep, And waking me to weep Tears that had melted his soft heart; for years Wept he as bitter tears! "Merciful God!" such was his latest prayer, "These may she never share!" Then take my advice, darling Widow ma- Quieter is his breath, his breast more cold |