SBNTr?H'rAL SONGS. ?71 Litb her delusive beam, ' 'Twill steal away thy mind; But like afFect?on's dream, It leaves no sting behind.* Come twine the wreath our brows to shade, These flowers were eull'd at noon; Like woman's love the rose will fade, But ah! not half so soon. For the' the Ilow'r's deeay'd, Its fragrance is not o'er; But once when Iove's betray'd, The heart can bloom n9 morel SHE IS FAR FROM THE LAND. 8nz is far from the land where her young hero sleeps, And lovers are round her sighing But coldly she turns from their gaze and weeps, For her heart in his grave is lying! ?Bhe sings the wild song of her dear native plains, Rv'ry note whieh he !ov'd awaking-- Ah! !?ttle they think, who delight in her strains, �Iow the heart of the minstrel is breaking.* He had liv'd for his love, for his country he died They were all that to life had entwin'd him,? ?or soon shall the tears of his country be dried, Nor long will his love stay behind him.* Oh.* make her a grave, where the sunbeams rest, When they promise a glorious morrow; They'll shine o'er her sleep, llke a smile from the west, From her own !ov'd Island of sorrow! THF, BUCKET. How dear to this heart are the seenes of my childhood, Wlmn fond reeoHoction r,?alls them to viaw m
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