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Then at a wave of her sunny hand,
The dancing girls of Samarcand
Float in like mists from Fairy-land !
And to the low voluptuous swoons
Of music, rise and fall the moons
Of their full brown bosoms. Orient blood
Runs in their veins, shines in their eyes;
And there in this Eastern paradise,
Filled with the fumes of sandal-wood,
And Khoten musk, and aloes, and myrrh,
Sits Rose in Bloom on a silk divan,
Sipping the wines of Astrakhan ;
And her Arab lover sits with her.

That's when the Sultan Shah-Zaman
Goes to the city Ispahan.

Now all the world is sleeping, love,
But the sage, his star-watch keeping, love,

And I, whose star,

More glorious far,
Is the eye from that casement peeping, love.
Then awake! -- till rise of sun, my dear,
The sage's glass we'll shun, my dear,

Or, in watching the flight

Of bodies of light, He might happen to take thee for one, my dear!



Now, when I see an extra light
Flaming, flickering on the night,
From my neighbor's casement opposite,
I know as well as I know to pray,
I know as well as a tongue can say,

That the innocent Sultan Shah-Zaman
Has gone to the city Ispahan.

“Ah, sweet Kitty Neil! rise up from your wheel, Your neat little foot will be weary from spin

ning; Come, trip down with me to the sycamore-tree; Half the parish is there, and the dance is be

ginning. The sun is gone down; but the full harvest moon Shines sweetly and cool on the dew-whitened

valley; While all the air rings with the soft, loving things

Each little bird sings in the green shaded alley."



T' OTHER day, as I was twining
Roses for a crown to dine in,
What, of all things, midst the heap,
Should I light on, fast asleep,
But the little desperate elf,
The tiny traitor, - Love himself!
By the wings I pinched him up
Like a bee, and in a cup

With a blush and a smile, Kitty rose up the

while, Her eye in the glass, as she bound her hair,

glancing; 'Tis hard to refuse when a young lover sues, So she could n't but choose to -- go off to the

dancing. And now on the green the glad groups are seen, Each gay-hearted lad with the lass of his



And Pat, without fail, leads out sweet Kitty Slighted love is sair to bide --

Ha, ha! the wooing o't! Somehow, when he asked, she ne'er thought of Shall I, like a fool, quoth he, refusing.

For a haughty hizzie dee?

She may gae to - France for me! Now Felix Magee puts his pipes to his knee,

Ha, ha ! the wooing o't! And, with flourish so free, sets each couple in motion ;

How it comes let doctors tellWith a cheer and a bound, the lads patter the

Ha, ha! the wooing o't! ground,

Meg grew sick as he grew heal
The maids move around just like swans on the

Ha, ha! the wooing o't!
Something in her bosom wrings,

For relief a sigh she brings;
Cheeks bright as the rose, -- feet light as the doe's,
Now coyly retiring, now boldly advancing ;

And 0, her een they speak sic things ! Search the world all around from the sky to the

Ha, ha! the wooing o't ! ground,

Duncan was a lad o' grace --No such sight can be found as an Irish lass

Ha, ha! the wooing o't! dancing!

Maggie's was a piteous case — Sweet Kate! who could view your bright eyes

Ha, ha! the wooing o't!

Duncan could na be her death : of deep blue,

Swelling pity smoored his wrath. Beaming humidly through their dark lashes so

Now they ’re crouse and canty baith, mildly,

Ha, ha! the wooing o't! Your fair-turned arm, heaving breast, rounded

Nor feel his heart warm, and his pulses throb

Poor Pat feels his heart, as he gazes, depart,
Subdued by the smart of such painful yet sweet

Young Rory O'More courted Kathleen Bawn; The sight leaves his eye as he cries with a sigh, He was bold as the hawk, and she soft as the dawn; “Dance light, for my heart it lies under your He wished in his heart pretty Kathleen to please, feet, love!

And he thought the best way to do that was to



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DUNCAN GRAY cam' here to woo

Ha, ha! the wooing o't!
On blythe Yule night when we were fou

Ha, ha! the wooing o't!
Maggie coost her head su' high,
Looked asklent and unco skeigh,
Gart poor Duncan stand abeigh

Ha, ha ! the wooing o't!”

“Now, Rory, be aisy," sweet Kathleen would cry,
Reproof on her lip, but a smile in her eye;
With your tricks, I don't know, in throth, what

I'm about;
Faith you ’ve teazed till I've put on my cloak

inside out.”
Och ! jewel,” says Rory, “that same is the way
You've thrated my heart for this many a day;
And 't is plazed that I ain, and why not, to be sure?
For 't is all for good luck,” says bold Rory O'More.

Duncan fleeched and Duncan prayed

Ha, ha! the wooing o't! Meg was deaf as Ailsa craig

Ha, ha! the wooing o't ! Duncan sighed baith out and in, Grat his een baith bleer't and blin', Spak o' lowpin o’er a linn

Ha, ha ! the wooing o't!

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Time and chance are but a tide

Ha, ha! the wooing o't !

"Och !” says Rory, “that same I’m delighted

to hear, For dhrames always go by conthraries, my dear.


Och ! jewel, keep dhraming that same till you I'd give up the whole world and in banishment die,

die; And bright morning will give dirty night the But Nancy came by, a round plump little creablack lie!

ture, And 't is plazed that I am, and why not, to be And fixed in my heart quite another design. sure ?

'T is a bit of a thing that a body might sing Since it is all for good luck," says bold Rory Just to set us a-going and season the wine. O'More.

Little Nance, like a Hebe, was buxom and gay, " Arrah, Kathleen, my darlint, you ’ve teazed Had a bloom like the rose and was fresher than me enough;

May; Sure, I 've thrashed, for your sake, Dinny Grimes 0, I felt if she frowned I would die by a rope, and Jim Duff;

And my bosom would burst if she slighted my And I've made myself, drinking your health, hope; quite a baste,

But the slim, taper, elegant Fanny looked at me,
So I think, aster that, I may talk to the priest.” And, troth, I no longer for Nancy could pine.
Then Rory, the rogue, stole his arm round her | ’T is a bit of a thing that a body might sing

Just to set us a-going and season the wine.
So soft and so white, without freckle or speck;
And he looked in her eyes, that were beaming Now Fanny's light frame was so slender and fine
with light,

That she skimmed in the air like a shadow divine.
And he kissed her sweet lips - Don't you think Her motion bewitched, and to my loving eye
he was right?

"T was an angel soft gliding 'twixt earth and the “Now, Rory, leave off, sir — you 'll hug me no sky.

’T was all mighty well till I saw her fat sister, That's eight times to-day you have kissed me And that gave a turn I could never define. before.?!

'T is a bit of a thing that a body might sing
" Then here goes another,” says he, "to make Just to set us a-going and season the wine.

For there 's luck in odd numbers,” says Rory O, so I go on, ever constantly blest,

For I find I've a great stock of love in my breast;
And it never grows less, for whenever I try
To get one in my heart, I get two in my eye.

To all kinds of beauty I bow with devotion,

And all kinds of liquor by turns I make mine;

So I 'll finish the thing that another may sing, O, THAT's what you mean now, a bit of a song,

Just to keep us a-going and season the wine.
Arrah, faith, then here goes, you sha'n't bother

me long;
I require no teazing, no praying, nor stuff,
By my soul, if you wish it, I'm ready enough
To give you no end ; you shall have a beginning,

Ho! pretty page, with the dimpled chin,
And, troth, though the music is not over fine,

That never has known the barber's shear, 'T is a bit of a thing that a body might sing

All your wish is woman to win ;
Just to set us a-going and season the wine. This is the way that boys begin,

Wait till you come to forty year.
O, I once was a lover, like some of you here,
And could feed a whole night on a sigh or a tear, Curly gold locks cover foolish brains;
No sunshine I knew but from Kitty's black eye, Billing and cooing is all your cheer,
And the world was a desert when she was n’t by; Sighing, and singing of midnight strains,
But the devil knows how, I got fond of Miss Under Bonnybell's window-panes,

Wait till you come to forty year.
And Kitty slipt out of this bosom of mine.
'T is a bit of a thing that a body might sing

Forty times over let Michaelmas pass ;
Just to set us a-going and season the wine.

Grizzling hair the brain doth clear ;

Then you know a boy is an ass,
Now Betty had eyes soft and blue as the sky, Then you know the worth of a lass,
And the lily was black when her bosom was nigh ; Once you have come to forty year.
0, I vowed and I swore if she'd not a kind eye

* A boon companion of George, Prince Regent





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Pledge me round ; I bid ye declare,

All good fellows whose beards are gray, Did not the fairest of the fair Common grow and wearisome ere

Ever a month was past away?

While she sits in her low-backed car, The lovers come, near and far,

And envy the chicken

That Peggy is pickin',
As she sits in her low-backed car.

The reddest lips that ever have kissed,

The brightest eyes that ever have shone, May pray and whisper and we not list, Or look away and never be missed,

Ere yet ever a month is gone.

Gillian's dead ! God rest her bier,

How I loved her twenty years syne !
Marian's married ; but I sit here,
Alone and merry at forty year,
Dipping my nose in the Gascon wine.


I'd rather own that car, sir,

With Peggy by my side,
Than a coach and four, and gold galore,

And a lady for my bride;
For the lady would sit forninst me,

On a cushion made with taste,
While Peggy would sit beside me,

With my arm around her waist, While we drove in the low-backed car, To be married by Father Mahar;

O, my heart would beat high

At her glance and her sigh,Though it beat in a low-backed car!

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