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IRISH SONGS AND LYRICS 367 |
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" Forbid it, Heaven," the Hermit cried, And elapsed her to his breast;
The wondering fair one turned to chide,— 'Twas Edwin's self that pressed.
"Turn, Angelina, ever dear,
My charmer, turn to see Thy own, thy long lost Edwin here,
Restored to love and thee.
" Thus let me hold thee to my heart,
And every care resign'; And shall we never, never part,
My life,—my all that's mine?
" No, never from this hour to part, We'll live and love so true ;
The sigh that rends thy constant heart Shall break thy Edwin's too." |
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TONY LUMPKIN'S SONG
L
ET schoolmasters puzzle their brain With grammar, and nonsense, and learning; Good liquor, I stoutly maintain,
Gives genus a better discerning. Let them brag of their heathenish gods,
Their Lethes, their Styxes, and Stygians ; Their Quis, and their Quaes, and their Quods, They're all but a parcel of Pigeons. Toroddle, toroddle, toroll. |
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