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Ireland

My Emmet's no more

(41) My Emmet's no more

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            My Emmet's

                No More.

Despair in her wild eye, a daughter of Erin,
Appear'd on the cliffs of the bleak rocky shore,
Loose in the wind flow'd her dark streaming ringlets.
And heedless she gaz'd on dread surges roar ;
Loud rung her harp in wild tones of despairing
The time pass'd away with the present comparing,
And in soul thrilling strains deepest sorrow declaring,
She sung Erin's woes, and her
Emmet's no more.

O Erin my country ! your glory's departed,
For tyrants and traitors have stabb'd thy heart s
core,
Thy daughters have lay'd in the streams of affliction,
Thy patriots have fled, or lie stretched in their
gore ;
From pale hungry orphans their last morsel have
taken,
The screams of thy females no pity awaken,
Also my poor country !
Your, Emmet's no more.

Brave was his spirit, yet as mild as the Bramin,
His heart bled in anguish for the wrong of the
poor,
To relieve their hard sufferings he braved every
danger ;
The vengcance of tyrants he undauntedly bore.
E'en before him the proud little villains in power,
Were seen though in ermine, in terror to cower,
But alas, he is gone ! He's fallen a young flower,
They've murdered my Emmet,
My Emmet's no more.

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             MOLLY

              BAWN.

OH, Molly Bawn,why leave me pining
All lonely waiting here for you,
The stars above are brightly shining,
Because they've nothing else to da
The flowers, gay, were open keeping
To try a rival blush with you ;
But their mother, nature, set them sleeping,
With their rosy faces wash'd with due.
Oh, Molly, &c.

The pretty flowers were made to bloom, dear,
The pretty stars were made to shine,
And the pretty girls were made for the boys, dear
And may be you were made for mine ;
The wicked watch-dog is at me snarling ;
He takes me for a thief, d' you see ;
For he knows I'd steal you Molly, darling,
And then transported I should be.
Oh, Molly, &c.

                              123

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