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But I, if I love, would love all the year round,
And the one that I love must be true;
I'll own who it is when my secret he's found-
Yes I love, yes I love, but I mustn't say who.

KITTY OF COLERAINE.
[ANONYMOUS.]

As beautiful Kitty one morning was tripping
With a pitcher of milk from the fair of Coleraine,
When she saw me she stumbled-the pitcher down
tumbled,

And all the sweet buttermilk went on the plain. "Oh, what shall I do now ?-'twas looking at

you now! Sure, sure such a pitcher I'll ne'er meet again; "Twas the pride of my dairy-O Barney M'Cleary, You're sent as a plague to the girls of Coleraine!"

I then walk'd beside her, and gently did chide her
That such a misfortune should give her such pain;
A kiss then I gave her, and ere I did leave her
She blush'd and consented to meet me again.
"Twas haymaking season-I can't tell the reason-
Misfortunes will never come single, 'tis plain;
For very soon after poor Kitty's disaster,
Sure every maiden got wed in Coleraine.

O MARIAN THE MERRY!

C. DIBDIN.] [Music by C. DIBDIN. "O Marian the merry! who gave you that fairing The lasses all envy, lads jealously view? That truelover's knot on your bosom, too, wearing, Oh say, blushing Marian, who gave 'em to you?" "Oh, the knot and the fairing were given to me

When the golden-hair'd laddie came over the lea."

"O Marian the merry! why now sad and sighing? Your tresses, neglected, are sport for the breeze; The villagers' pastimes why foolishly flying?

Oh say, silly Marian, what symptoms are these ?" "Oh, the knot and the fairing no longer please me, For the golden-hair'd laddie's gone over the lea." "O Marian the merry! again sweetly smilingAgain like the fawn tripping lightly along, What innocent hope, all your sorrows beguiling, Oh say, happy Marian! enlivens your song?" "Oh, the knot and the fairing again pleasure me, For the golden-hair'd laddie's come over the lea."

GO!-FORGET ME!

Rev. C. WOLFE.]

[Music by J. P. KNIGHT.
Go!-forget me! why should sorrow
O'er that brow a shadow fling?
Go!-forget me! and to-morrow
Brightly smile and sweetly sing.
Smile, though I shall not be near thee;
Sing, though I shall never hear thee.
May thy soul with pleasure shine,
Lasting as the gloom of mine.

Like the sun, thy presence glowing,
Clothes the meanest things in light;
And when thou, like him, art going,
Loveliest objects fade in night.
All things look'd so bright about thee,
That they nothing seem without thee:
By that pure and lucid mind
Earthly things were too refined.

Go! thou vision, wildly gleaming,
Softly on my soul that fell!
Go! for me no longer beaming-
Hope and beauty, fare ye well!

Go! and all that once delighted
Take, and leave me all benighted-
Glory's burning, gen'rous swell,
Fancy, and the poet's shell.

SHOULD HE UPBRAID.

SHAKSPEARE.]

[Music by Sir H. BISHOP. Should he upbraid, I'll own that he'd prevail, And sing as sweetly as the nightingale; Say that he frown, I'll say his looks I view As morning roses newly tipp'd with dew; Say he be mute, I'll answer with a smile, And dance, and play, and wrinkled care beguile.

THE QUEEN OF THE MAY.

A. TENNYSON.]

[Music by Mrs. ARKWRIGHT.

You must wake and call me early,
Call me early, mother dear;
To-morrow'll be the happiest time
Of all the glad new year;
Of all the glad new year, mother,
The maddest, merriest day,

For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother,
I'm to be Queen o' the May!

There's many a black black eye, they say,
But none so bright as mine,

There's Margaret and Mary,
There's Kate and Caroline;
But none so fair as little Alice
In all the land, they say:

So I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother,
I'm to be Queen o' the May!

I sleep so sound all night, mother,
That I shall never wake
If you do not call me loud

When the day begins to break;
But I must gather knots of flowers,
And buds and garlands gay:
For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother,
I'm to be Queen o' the May.

Little Effie shall go with me
To-morrow to the green,
And you'll be there, too, mother,
To see me made the Queen.
The shepherd lads on ev'ry side
Will come from far away,

For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother,
I'm to be Queen o' the May.

All the valley, mother, will be
Fresh and green and still,
And the cowslip and the crowfoot
Are over all the hill,

And the violet in the flowery dale
Will merrily glance and play:
For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother,
I'm to be Queen o' the May.

So you must wake and call me early,
Call me early, mother dear,
To-morrow'll be the happiest time
Of all the glad new year,
To-morrow'll be of all the year

The maddest, merriest day,

For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen of the May.

SECOND PART.

If you're waking, call me early,
Call me early, mother dear,
For I would see the sun rise
Upon the glad new year,

It is the last new year, mother,
That I shall ever see,

Then you may lay me low i' the mould,
And think no more of me.

To-night I saw the sun set;
He set and left behind

The good old year, the dear old time,
And all my peace of mind;

And the new year's coming up, mother,
But I shall never see

The blossom on the blackthorn,

The leaf upon the tree.

Last May we made a crown of flow'rs;
We had a merry day:

Beneath the hawthorn on the green,
They made me Queen of May;
And we danced about the maypole,
And in the hazel copse,

Till Charles's Wain came out above
The tall white chimney-tops.

There's not a flow'r on all the hills;
The frost is on the pane:

I only wish to live till

The snowdrops come again:
I wish the snow would melt, and
The sun come out on high:

I long to see a flower so

Before the day I die.

When the flowers come again, mother, Beneath the waning light,

You'll never see me more in

The long grey fields at night;

When from the dry dark wold
The summer airs go cool,

On the oat-grass and the sword-grass,
And the bulrush in the pool.

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