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Near as the form slow pass'd along,

His wild eye scann'd her features well ; “ 'Tis she !-'tis Mary!—'tis my child !

And in her arms the father fell.

The villain's purpose all attain'd,

The mask deceitful soon was thrown ;
He left her to the wide world's scorn,

Wretched and hopeless far to roam.

'Twas then her father came to mind,

Then thought she on his anguish'd heart;
Towards the cot away she bent,

Never from him again to part.

Awhile locked in her arms he lay,

Scarce could she think it real—'till
His hand she felt, and aged face,

Grow heavy, lifeless, cold, and chill.

Remorse, despair, her bosom rack'd;

Wildly she gazed the corse upon
Then laugh'd hysteric, hoarse and loud,

Once more she look'd, then swift was gone.

O'er moor and mountain, dark and bleak,

She wandered on the hills so weary ;
And where the honeysuckle blows,

Lies poor and pitied maniac Mary.

Oh, London's such a charming place, so fine and so bewitching,
That country lads all thither haste, and for its joys are itching :
Papa and Ma, good bye, they bawl, and off for Lunnun starting,
Declare they think the country all my eye and Betty Martin.

Spoken.]—Come, Coachee, knock 'em along, my boy, how far to Lunnun now? Only five miles. I say, Bill, how d’ye like it? Oh, werry much ; I say, how we spins along, don't we, eh! Ah, there's Lunnun. I say, Coachee, vat's that ere place, like the top of a lantern? Why, that's St. Paul's. St. Paul's! I say, Ben, what a rich man that Mr. Pauls must be to have such a precious great house? Bless me, what a smoke. I say, Coachman, put me down at Mr. Brisket's, the butcher's, in Whitechapel, will you? Yes, ma'am. I say, Coachee, where do we stop at ? The Blue Boar, sir. I say, Ben, vat a bore it will be if they von't let us have a bed there, eh? Why, yes, we shall have the chance of standing in the street all night, and hear the watchman bawl

Ri fol de rol, &c.

Their hands in both their pockets cramni'd, they gape about so silly.
And now from side to side are jammed, whilst rambling Piccadilly;
And now the rain begins to fall, whilst some for coaches bawling,
And Bill upsets an apple stall as he is backward falling.

Spoken.]—There, you stupid country fellow, you shall pay for my apples ; you've upset them all in the mud. There, brother Ben, you've just got into it. No, brother Bill, I be just got out on't. Dash that there gutter! look at my white corderoys : I'm just like a mudlark. There's my best silk umbrella spoilt—that gent. has run the top of his smack through it. Never mind, ma'am, 'twill let in more air. La, sir, l’m sure mamma had airs enough of her own before. Faugh ! that fellow's splashed me from head to foot, ’pon honour. Lud, papa, I've lost my shoe. Shoo, shoo, come along, child, let's go through Exeter Change. We shan't change for the worse. Take care, sir, you'll run your stick into my eye. That's all my eye, sir. Oh, I've lost my patten. That's a very bad pattern to set. I declare my pelisse is wringing wet. Turn it then, and put the dry side outwards, my darling. I tell you what, if you pushes me in that ’ere way again, I'll give you such a divil of a

Ri fol de rol, &c.
And now a heavy fog arrives just to encrease vexation,
And hurry scurry each one drives, and all is consternation;
Says brother Ben, we've lost our way-says Bill we're done for certain,
Whilst both exclaim, in town to stay's my eye and Betty Martin.

Spoken.)—Bless my soul, what a smoke. Terrible. A light, a light! Light! damme, a man that would make light of this would make light of any misfortune. Bless me, sir, how clumsy you are ; you've run up against me, and knocked all my teeth down my throat. Beg pardon, ma'am; very sorry, and all that : couldn't help it : quite accidental. By your leave. Take care of your heads. Heads ! oh, damme, take care of your pockets. Oh, my toes, my toes. Put them in your reticule then, ma'am. I'll thank you not to ridicule my wife's toes, if you please, sir. Oh, botheration, what a crowd. I'll stand under this gateway till they're all gone by, and amuse myself by singing

Ri fol de rol, &c.

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Dark was the night, and heaven's host of stars
Were lurk'd behind the nisty watering clouds ;
Loud roar'd the thunder, and the whistling wind
Beat the fierce torrents 'gainst my trembling tent:.
When I, depress'd and weary with the march,
Most gladly sought my pallet once again.
I slept—and soon a visionary sight
Arose, and bore me to my distant home:
Methought, the battle's bloody strife was o'er-
There lay unnumber'd heroes on the ground,
Covered with wounds, bathed in their clotted gore,
And yielding up their last and silent breath.
Unknown I left the camp, and cross'd the field
Towards the cottage, which I left in tears ;
Pass'd the huge mountain's steep and craggy form,
Where, in my youthful days, I loved to chase
The wild chamois that bounded on the spot;
I passed the abbey, heard the dreary bell
Chiming the midnight hour; all still remained,
Saving the wind's shrill whistle through the trees.
Onward I went, whilst each new step gave birth
To sad reflections, mix'd with murm'ring sighs :
A tear escaped-I startled, but 'twas vain
To try to check the tear, which larger grew;
I whispered "shame!' but down my cheek it rollid.
My cot, once happy, I with joy beheld,
A glimmering taper through its casement played ;
I heard my children-saw my mournful wife.-

My Edward safe !' she cried, and flying to my arms,
Spotted my breastplate with her pearly tears ;
Two infant boys soon hung about my knees,
And cried out, 'father, welcome home again!'
I then embraced, and was about to speak,
When sleep forsaking my o'er anxious frame;
The pleasing vision died.
My scattered thoughts I called to my aid,
The wind still whistled round my canvass tent-
I heard the sentry's steady march without-
I call'd-he answered,-bid me to prepare
For battle on the morrow, there to meet
With rest eternal, or return again
With trumpets, drums, and timbrels loudly playing
The warrior's welcome home.




TOTHER night, faith, I went to the wake of a friend,
What went dead just before he would come to the end
Of his life, what was over some time, as they said,
When to make him die asey they put him in bed.

Spoken.]—“Och! my darling creature !” says Mistress O’Gaffney, “and is it yourself too what is come to help to wake my dear now? sure he'll be mighty plased of it for the respect of the thing, poor dead creature !” says she, putting out the whiskey to me. “ Take a drop of it yourself, Mr. M.Hoghlin, without mixing it at all ; it's the way my Pat, what's dead there, was liked it, wasn't it Pat, my darling ?” Sure, we'll try him tiff now," says I ; “it will be making him comfortable getting it down you see." “ Och, bad luck! be asey now,scramed out Mistress OʻGaffney, as myself uncovered the face of him “ would you be disturbing the dead creature ?" says she,“ besides you'll be making him take cold stripping him ! Och, Pat ! och, my jewel, spake to me now. Oh, 0, 0, 0, [giving the howl] Oh, !" Myself and all joined chorus. Och, and sure 'twas all over delightful! and then we tucked him up warm and comfortable, while we sung,

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Hurroo whack fililloo,
Smic smaghlaloo !

Mister Murphy Marooney, 'twas chanced by mistake,
Put his foot in the place near the heel of the wake.
“Och," says I, “ sir, you're out:" "no,” says he, “sir, I'm in ""
“ Then,” says I, “you're the signal a row to begin."


Spoken.]—“ You dirty spalpeen," says I, “what's brought you here before you was sent to be axed ?" “ Bad luck," says he," and wasn't I sent myself to be axed, what's all the same now."

“ Och, don't be coming here, you old ragman, with your blarney about sending yourself what's not wanted at all,” says

so you're out, I'm telling you !" “ Och, by the powers of all that's plasing,” says he, “and wasn't I come to comfort the widow now ?” “ Divil fly away wid you then,” says I, “ for haven't I every thing at all to comfort a widow myself, you see? Bad luck to the comfort she'll get from any one else ; will you, Mistress O’Gaffney ?” says I. 6 Divil a bit of it,"

• Och, my darling creature," says I, “ then that's

says she.

what's enough for me to go to work upon.” So to work I went at once, putting Mister Marooney's daylights in the dark, before he saw himself quite blind of all his eyes.

“ There, you dirty thief,” says I, " that's teaching you what's paceable while you're kicking up a row, you see." That was all the nate thing, 'cause I wouldn't be disturbing Pat what's dead at the time, with a

Hurroo whack fililloo,
Smic smaghlaloo !

With swate Mistress O'Gaffney then cock of the walk,
I put out my best leg first to win the first chalk
Of the game, what's called love,—when I tickled her chin,

“It's my heart," says she, “ Dennis, you're meaning to win ?" Spoken.]—“Och, faith my tender jewel,” says I,


sure I wouldn't be maning any thing else, my lambkin, and every thing what's belonging to it now.' “ Och, you divil, whisper,” says she, “sure we must be dacent, until we'll be got Pat under the turf and all about him you see.” “ Och, musha a gramachree, my double-fat darling," says I, “sure an' I won't be making you as happy as a fly in a pot of treacle, my honey.bird ! Sure

I'm the swate boy for comforting the ladies, Mistress O'Gaffney, you'll see,” says I. By my soul, myself was getting all over alive about her, when her brother, Mister Teddy Phagan, was come up to be axing me if I took his sister for a dish of butter. milk? “Och, be asey," says I, “sure won't I intend to take her for butter and all, by-and-by, you'll see.” And then I told him, says I, “ Only wait till awhile ago, and we two brothers will be first cousins in-law you see out of it.” Faith, he was quite plased wid the notion of it; the whiskey was going about bravely, till we was all blind happy, and just got into the middle of a swate howl, [gives the howl,] when och, bad luck! you wouldn't think what was happened. Botheration, such a

Hurroo whack filiiloo,

Smic smaghlaloo !
Pat went dead as it happened for plasing his wife,
But for plasing himself he again came to life;
For while waking his body, so swate was our howl,

By the powers, that our music at last waked his soul!. Spoken.]—All the botheration of bad luck to it! We was all quite comfortable, myself and Mistress O'Gaffney as swate together as two nuts just cracked ; Teddy Phagan and Katty Culloch, Mister O'Brien, Mister O'Mullins, Mistress Donne


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