They may talk as they please of their far-spreading waters, Their lakes and their prairies, majestic and grand, There is not a spot that fair Cambria's daughters Would love half so well as their own native land; "Tis there, when the goats on the hill-side are browsing, We sit round the harper and list to his tales, While the song that he sings, ev'ry feeling arousing, Tells of deeds that were done in our own flow'ry vales. Our sons may be rough as the crags of the mountain, But, look you, they've hearts that are tender and true, Their silver songs flow like the voice of the fountain, Then what can the poor maids of Cambria do ? From market and fair when at eve we're returning, Perchance o'er the heart some soft accent prevails; Then our wants are but few, so all bashfulness spurning, We soon find a home in our own flow'ry vales. J. H. DUFFY.] HERMINE. [Music by T. C. REYNOLDS. Fast and fair the stars were springing In the deep calm summer sky, Soft the bulbul bird was singing To a clump of roses nigh; And through the grass a little stream But e'er since grey-beard Time was young, And oft for this hath woman flung True hearts away to live or break; So now with one who loved not more, OLD FRIENDS MET TOGETHER. C. SWAIN.] [Music by E. J. LODER. Oh! Time is sweet when roses meet, With spring's sweet breath around them; But nought can be so sweet to see, Those days of old when youth was bold, Though grey each brow that meet us now, The few long known that years have shown Oh! thus may we yet joy to see THE GLORIOUS BRITISH OAK! B. GOUGH.] [Music by W. GRANTHAM. Fill a goblet, merry folk, And quaff a toast with me, Here's the glorious British oak, The oak, the monarch oak, Then fill a goblet, &c. The oak it is a noble tree, Then fill a goblet, &c. Fill a goblet, merry folk, And be a bumper thine, Our kings have climb'd its boughs; J. W. LAKE.] NEVER DESPAIR. [Music by J. BRAHAM, Never despair!--let the feeble in spirit, Bow like the willow that stoops to the blast; Droop not in peril-'tis manhood's true merit Nobly to struggle and hope to the last. When, by the sunshine of fortune forsaken, Faint sinks the heart of the feeble with fear, Stand like the oak of the forest unshaken, Never despair, boys! never despair! Never despair, though adversity rages Stem the rude torrent till danger is o'er! Fate, with its whirlwind, our joys may all sever, True to ourselves we have nothing to fear, This be our hope and our anchor for ever:Never despair, boys! never despair! SOME POETS PRAISE. Some poets praise the violet's hue, Some poets praise the mignonette, That flower it blooms alone for me, MERRILY GOES THE MILL. C. JEFFERYS.] [Music by S. NELSON. Merrily rolls the mill-stream on, Merrily goes the mill, And merry to-night shall be my song L |