free! In my

life-breath-ing bark I am free! I am free! Ha, ha, ha, ha,

ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!

I have watch'd when the voice of the power of

might

Has call'd forth the storm in the dead of the night; When the lightning's broad flashes were gleaming around,

And a mighty voice spake in the thunder-ton'd sound.

But the sun in his glory arises again,

And his mantle of splendour throws o'er the wide main ;

O! beautiful ocean, I'm wedded to thee,-
A rich dowry is mine, I'm a child of the sea!
For, rock'd in thy cradle and rear'd on thy

breast,

Where so well as with thee could I take my last
rest;

And while life be spar'd me, my sea-song shall be,
I'm afloat, I'm afloat, I am free, I am free !-
Ha, ha, ha, &c.

CLUBS, TO THE SAME MUSIC.
She rides in the sunshine with pinions of snow,
But like shaft in the quiver she's ready to go;
Gently breathe on her wings, she is up from her
nest,

ELIZA COOK'S SONG FOR THE YACHT
I'm afloat, I'm afloat, and my home has no bound;
There's no wall of dark limit to circle me round:
Far away on the wave, I look back to the shore,
With a heart that scarce heeds if I see it no more.

There are playthings & pleasures on land, it is true,
But there's naught like the billow, so fresh and so
blue!

There are things of rare speed, but my own little
bark

Runs a beautiful race, in the day or the dark!
On, on through the tide! let the wind do its worst ;
Let the lightning leap out, and the thunder-cloud
burst;

Up, up with my flag, there's no thing that I love
Like my own little cruiser, the gallant Sea-Dove!

Andante.

And right onward she starts with a foam-cleaving breast.

She will turn with a touch when the waters are
wild,

Like an Arab steed rul'd by a fair-handed child.
She is fast-she is free-as that Arab can be,
And is firm in the storm as a young forest tree.
I'm afloat, I'm afloat, in my own little bark ;
My home has no bound, in the day or the dark;
Up, up with my flag! there's no thing that I love
Like my own little cruiser, the gallant Sea-Dove!

Sunshine on thy path-way, My e bon eyed Jane! Where e - ver you

O! WHA IS SHE THAT LO'ES ME.
Words by Robert Burns.

Andante con espressione.

O! wha is she that lo'es me, And has my heart a keep-ing? O! sweet is she that lo'es me, As

Allegretto.

Weel

may win the fairest place; It wants to me the witching grace, The kind love, that's in her e'e.
O, this is no my ain, &c.

She's bonny,blooming, straight, & tall,
And lang has had my heart in thrall,
And aye it charms my vera saul,
The kind love that's in her e'e.
O, this is no my ain, &c.

A thief sae pawkie is my Jean, It may escape the courtly sparks,
She'll steal a blink by a' unseen, It may escape the learned clerks,
But gleg as light are lovers' e'en, But weel the watching lover marks
When kind love is in the e'e. The kind love that's in her e'e.
O, this is no my ain, &c.

O, this is no my ain, &c.

LEWIE GORDON.

O! send Lew - ie Gor-don hame, And the lad I win na name: Tho' his back be

at the wa', Here's to him that's far awa'. Oh! hon my High-land man,

Oh! my bonny Highland man, Well wou'd I my true love ken, Amang ten thousand Highland men.

The princely youth that I do mean,

Is fitted for to be a king:

On his breast he wears a star,

You'd take him for the God of war,

Oh! hon my Highland. &c.

Oh, to see his tartan trews,

Bonnet blue, and haigh-heel'd shoes,
Philabeg aboon his knee ;-

That's the lad that I'll gang wi'!

Oh! hon my Highland, &c.

THE BARK IS ON THE SWELLING WAVE.
Irish Melody, to the Air, St. Senanus and the Lady.'

Oh! should you e'er meet with Kate Kearney, Who lives near the lakes of Kil-larney,

The stream let that flow'd round her cot, All the charms, all the charms of my Em-i-ly

view! How oft has its course been forgot, While it paus'd, while it paus'd her dear image to view !
Believe me, the fond silver tide
Till, silently swelling with pride.
It reflected her back to the skies.

Knew from whence it deriv'd the fair prize;

WHEN ARE MEAD AND WATER FAIREST.
To the Music of Vieni in Roma,' in Bellini's Opera of Norma; by George Soane, A.B.
Published by Davidson.

CAN'T YOU DANCE THE POLKA?

Adapted to the Music of the Cracovienne, by S. D. Saunders.-Published by Davidson.

Pol-ka? The joys of earth are Young ladies wanting husbands true, O! you must dance the Polka; And bachelors, if you would woo, Why you must dance the Polka.

Can't you dance. &c.

Unless you dance the Polka.
Now, married folks of each degree,
If your children you would see
Happy, prosperous, and free,
Pray teach them all the Polka.

Can't you dance, &c.

I LOVE THE NIGHT.

Words by G..P. Morris; Music by Henry Russell.-Published by Davidson. Con and a allegro.

I love the night, when the moon beams bright On flow'rs that drink the

dew; When

cas-cades shout as the stars peep out, From boundless fields of blue; But dear-er far than