L'ENVOI.

ROLL on, O river, to thy goal,
The far illimitable main;
Gladdening the earth, thy waters roll
Through vale and fertile plain;
O mighty joy! had it been given,
Majestic river unto me,

Blessing and blest of earth and heaven,
To run my course like thee!

Yet, soul, content thee with the powers,
The lowly powers to thee assign'd;

The brook that winds through meadow flowers,
In that thy likeness find;

Scarce seen its course, and yet no less

Its scarce-seen course it loves to run,

Rejoicing its few fields to bless

And gurgle through the sun.

THE GREEN HILLS OF SURREY.

AN EMIGRANT SONG.

O FROM BOX Hill and Leith Hill the prospects are fair,
You look o'er the sweet vales of green Surrey there,
And, than Surrey's dear green vales, you never saw lie,
Or sweeter or greener, beneath the blue sky;

O the green hills of Surrey, the sweet hills of Surrey,
The dear hills of Surrey I'll love till I die.

O Farnham, green Farnham, what hop-grounds are there
That with Farnham's fair hop-grounds can ever compare!
And what pleasure it were once again but to lie
On Guildford's green hill-sides beneath the blue sky!
O the green hills of Surrey, the sweet hills of Surrey,
The dear hills of Surrey I'll love till I die.

O Dorking is pleasant, and Dorking is green,
And sweet are the woods and the walks of Deepdene,

108

THE GREEN HILLS OF SURREY.

But for Dorking's sweet meadows in vain I must sigh,
And Deepdene's green woods will no more meet my eye;
But the green woods of Surrey, the sweet woods of Surrey,
The dear woods of Surrey I'll love till I die.

O Kent has fair orchards; no pleasanter show
Than her apple-trees blooming in April, I know,
Save the orchards 'round Reigate, sweet Reigate, that lie
With their red and white blossoms so fair 'neath the sky.
O the green fields of Surrey, the sweet fields of Surrey,
The dear fields of Surrey I'll love till I die.

O Surrey, green Surrey, that I had been born

To a farm 'mongst your fields, with its hops and its corn,
That I'd not been forced far, my fortune to try
Across the wide sea, 'neath a far foreign sky!
O the green vales of Surrey, the sweet vales of Surrey,
The dear vales of Surrey I'll love till I die.

Minnesota's green prairies have plenty for all,
And comfort and wealth here my own I can call,
Yet often and often my thoughts, with a sigh,
Far to Surrey's green hills, o'er the wide sea will fly;
O the green hills of Surrey, the sweet hills of Surrey,
The dear hills of Surrey I'll love till I die.

But sighing avails not, and wishing is vain,
And the home of my childhood I'll ne'er see again;
The acres my labour's made mine here, I'll try
To make dear to my heart, as they're fair to my eye;
But the green hills of Surrey, the sweet hills of Surrey,
The dear hills of Surrey I'll love till I die.

'Neath the park limes in Betchworth, 'tis there I would stroll;

O to walk but once more by the clear winding Mole!
But no more shall I hear the soft breeze rustle by
Through those lime-tops, no more by the Mole I shall lie;
But the clear streams of Surrey, the sweet streams of Surrey,
The dear streams of Surrey I'll love till I die.

By the

grey ivied church, where my father is laid, Where my mother lies with him, my grave should be made, But, far from them, my bones, when my time comes, must

lie

'Neath the rain and the snow of a strange foreign sky; O the green hills of Surrey, the sweet vales of Surrey, The dear fields of Surrey I'll love till I die.

O BONNY IS MY HUSBAND'S SHIP.

O BONNY is my husband's ship, the ship that well I love; And welcome are its coming sails, all welcome sights above. There's not a tarry rope, not a spar that there I see,

Not a deck-plank that he treads on, but it's O how dear to me!

O bright, bright was the May-time through which he sail'd

away,

But to me more wan and dreary than November was the

day.

O wintry winds beat keen with sleet-O cold seas rage

and foam,

But calm will be, and bright to me, the day that brings him home.

O Katie, playing on the floor-O Jock, beside my knee-
When father sits beside the fire, how happy we shall be !
O babe unborn that, when he comes, shall bless my happy
breast,

God send my baby safe to me, to kiss him with the rest.

And many a pretty thing he'll bring for little Kate and Jock,

Carved wooden man, and funny beast, and shell, and sparkling rock,

A monkey, perhaps, so clever, with Jock and Kate to play, And a rainbow-colour'd parrot, that will chatter all the day.

O never be a sailor, Jock, to make the angry foam
The terror of a loving wife and babes you've left at home;
And marry not a sailor, Kate, to be his weary wife,
Unless you get one dear as he who's dear to me as life.

Move swiftly on, you lonesome hours! tick quicker on, O clock!

And bring the hour when, at my breast, my baby I shall rock,

When in my arms my blessed babe shall laugh and leap

and crow,

And I shall teach its little eyes its father's face to know.

O Thou who guid'st the stormy winds, O Thou who rul'st the sea,

O God look down in mercy upon my babes and me; Through storms and perils of the deep, O hold him in Thy

hand,

That we may bless Thy blessed name, when safe he treads the strand.

You wives so blessed with plenty, how little do you know

The blessings that, on such as I, your riches would bestow ! O John, come back with half enough to keep you safe

ashore,

And day and night I'll work that you may go to sea no

more.

HOME AGAIN.

A SOLDIER'S WIFE'S SONG.

AND O, but he's come home again,
Home, home, home again;
And O, but he's come home again,
My husband dear, to me!

'Twas only yesternight I knew
The news-they broke it first to Sue,
And I-I said, "Can it be true,

And is my husband home again ?"
And O, but he's come home again,

Home, home, home again;
And O, but he's come home again,
My husband dear, to me!

Ah, but it seems long weary years,
My twenty months of heart-sick fears,
Of nights I've wet my cheeks with tears,
To think, will he come home again?
And O, but he's come home again,
Home, home, home again;
And O, but he's come home again,
My husband dear, to me!

Ah, when upon his neck I hung,
While to his breast like life I clung,
I mind me well his angel tongue

Said, "Wife, but I'll come home again."
And O, but he's come home again,
Home, home, home again;

And O, but he's come home again,
My husband dear, to me!

O, sore have ached both heart and head!
How have I shivered as they read
The lists of wounded and of dead!
Ah, would he-he come home again'
And O, but he's come home again,
Home, home, home again;
And O, but he's come home again,
My husband dear, to me!

O with what sighs is glory bought!
O why must battles e'er be fought?
O would kings give to wives a thought,

Who wish their husbands home again!
And O, but he's come home again,

Home, home, home again;
And O, but he's come home again,
My husband dear, to me!