The Singers' Companion/Connel and Flora

CONNEL AND FLORA,

Dark lowers the night o’er the wide stormy main,
Till mild rosy morning rise cheerful again
Alas ! morn returns to revisit the shore;
But Connel returns to his Flora no more.

For see o’er yon mountain the dark cloud of death,
And Connel’s lone cottage lies low on the heath,
Whilq bloody and pale, on a far distant shore,
He lies to return to his Flora no more.

Ye light——fleeting spirits that glide o’er yon steep!
Oh ! would ye but waft me across the wild deep!
There fearless I’d mix in the battle’s loud roar;
I’d die with my Connel, and leave him no more!