ERIN OF THE STREAMS. TUNE.-Crusken Lhan. You ask me then to sing; Come your wine and goblets bring, I've a toast that shall light up your eyes It is my country's name, With her proud and holy fameHear's to Erin of the Streams-then arise!-then arise ! Hear's to Erin of the Streams-then arise! When last our proud flag rose, To strike ruin on our foes, 'Midst the ranks of that foe did it fall. Next time our hands unfold This dear flag of green and gold, O'er a nation shall it wave all!-lov'd by all! -lov'd by O'er a nation shall it wave-loved by all! Then fill your goblets high, And drink your bumpers dry, Sure souls like our own shall be free! Of love let others sing, Among us this toast shall ringHere's to Erin of the Streams-drink with me-drink with me! Here's to Erin of the Streams-drink with me-drink with me! THE IRISHMAN. THE savage loves his native shore, Tho' rude the soil and chill the air, Then well may Erin's sons adore Their isle which nature formed so fair. Tho, his hand be rash, his heart is warm If poor in weal, he'll for you pay, If you're his comrade, whilst you stay, And if he may your merits scan, By honour bound in wo or weal, Whate'er she bids he dares to do, Try him with gold, it won't prevail, But e'en in fire you'll find him true; He seeks not safety-let his post Be where there's aught in danger's van; Or if the field of fame be lost It won't be by an Irishman. Erin's lov'd land, from age to age, free, May peace be yours, or should you wage Defensive wars, cheap victory, THE INDIAN HUNTER. AIR.-Meeting of the waters. LET me go to my home that is far distant west, To the scenes of my youth that I like the best, Where the tall cedars are and the bright waters flow, Where my parents will greet me: white man, let me go! Let me go to the spot where the cataract plays, Where oft I have sported in my boyish days, There is my poor mother, whose heart will o'erflow At the sight of her child: O, there let me go! Let me go to the hills and the valleys so fair, Where oft I have breathed my own mountain air, And there through the forest with quiver and bow I have chased the wild dear: O there let me go' Let me go to my father, by whose valiant side, I have sported so oft in the height of my pride, And exulted to conquer the insolent foe, To my father, that chieftain: O there let me go! And O let me go to my dark-eyed maid, Who taught me love beneath the willow shade, Whose heart's like the fawn's, as pure as the snow, And she loves her dear Indian: to her let me go! And O let me go to my fair forest home, And never again will I wish to roam, And there let my body in ashes lie low; To that scene in the forest, white man, let me go! |