LORD ULLIN'S DAUGHTER. The Poetry by Thomas Campbell; the Music by G. Thomson. ndante con Anima. A chief-tain, to the High-lands bound, Cries, 'Boat-man, do not tarry! And I'll give thee a sil - ver pound, To row us o'er the fer-ry.'- 'Now who be ye would cross Loch-gyle, This dark and stor - my I'm the chief of Ul-va's isle, And 'And fast before her father's men So, though the waves are raging white, 'O! haste thee, haste!' the lady cries, Though tempests round us gather: I'll meet the raging of the skies; But not an angry father.' The boat has left a stormy land, A stormy sea before her, One lovely hand she stretch'd for aid, 'Come back! come back!' he cried in grief, Across this stormy water: And I'll forgive your Highland chief- 'Twas vain: the loud waves lash'd the shore, THE BIRKS OF ABERFELDY. Vivace. Bon-ny las-sie, will ye go, will ye go, will ye go? Bon-ny las-sie, will ye go To the Fine. stream-lets plays; Come, let us spend the light-some days, In the birks of Ab-er-fel-dy. O! WHISTLE, AND I'LL COME TO THEE, MY LAD. Vivace. O! whistle, and I'll come to thee, my lad; O! whistle, and I'll come to thee, my Fine. ad: Though feyther and mither and a' should gae mad, O! whis-tle, and I'll come to thee, my lad. yett be a-jee; Syne up the back stile, and let nae - body see, And come as ye D. C. al Fine. were na com-in' to me, And At kirk or at market, when'er ye meet me, Gang by me as though that ye car'd na a flie; But steal me a blink o' your bonnie black ee, Yet look as ye were na lookin' at me. O whistle, &c. come as ye were na com-in' to me. Aye vow and protest that ye care na for me, Andantino. BUGLE SONG. The Poetry translated from the German; the Music by Maria J. Kluit. Sung by Mrs. Fitzwilliam, in Buckstone's Drama of the 'Green Bushes.'-Published by Davidson. Andante. As I was sitting in my room, One plea-sant ev'-ning in the month of June, I 'Tis that dear dear song I've lov'd so long, Which you used to sing for me, love; cres. My heart is wrung To hear it sung By a-ny one but thee, love! My soul's self drank The sounds which sank From your lips in tone so sweet, love; And that eye of light Grew still more bright, As the lay caus'd our looks to meet, love! Those eyes are shut, That voice for ever is flown, love ;- Let me hear the strain, Which I used to call my own, love! THE RIGHT ROAD. Irish Melody, 'Castle Tirowen,' to Moore's 'Remember me;' the Poetry by Thomas Davis, published in Duffy's Spirit of the Nation.' Moderato. Let the fee-ble-heart-ed pine, Let the sickly spi-rit whine; But to work and win be thine, While you've life, while you've life. God smiles up - on the bold, So, when your flag's un- roll'd, Bear it brave-ly till you're cold In the strife, in the strife! Sweet No-rah liv'd by Lif-fy's side, And Norah vow'd to be my bride; Sweet No-rah liv'd by Liffy's side, And No-rah vow'd to be my bride; Sweet No-rah, · THE SWAINS WHO WAKE ERATO'S STRING. The Poetry by David Thomson; the Music to Mozart's Air, 'Komm lieber May und mache." youth's car-na- tion hue; And eyes have been too oft com-par'd To stars and sparkling dew. The planet's mild and silent beam Still like thine eye may glow; But where's the soul-enchanting gleam And roses may be found as fair As those on which I gaze; But where's the flush that rises there, And still to close their pensive lay, They say that, like a flow'r, O! ne'er let thoughts like these be nigh, For many a rose shall round thee die, OUR YOUTH IS LIKE THE FAIRY TALE. To the above Music; the Poetry by David Thomson. Our youth is like the fairy tale Our splendid halls and lofty tow'rs Yet, though his flatt'ring dream of bliss The wondrous lamp again was his, But when the dark magician Care Has swept our joys away, No genius of the ring is there, When youth his vanish'd fabric mourns, No lamp of hope again returns |