'Foreigners'

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RORY OF THE HILL.

" That rake up near the ratters,
Why leave it there so long ?
The handle, of the best ash,
Is smooth, and straight, and strong ;
And mother, will you tell me,
Why did my father frown,
When to make the hay in summer time,
I climbed to take it down ? "
She looked into her husband's eyes,
W ile her own with light did fill,
" You will shortlyknow the reason, boy!
Said Rory of the hill.

The midnight moon is lighting up.
The slopes of Sliev-na mon,—
" Whose foots afrights the startled hares
So long before the dawn ? "
He stopped, just where the Anner's stream
Winds up the woods anear.
Then whistled low and looked around,
To see the coast was clear,
A sheeling door was open—
In he stepped with right good will—
God save all here and bless your work,'
Said Rory of the Hill.

Right hearty was the welcome,
That greeted him I ween,
For years gone by they fully proved,
How well they loved the Green ;
And there was one amongst them
Who grasped him by the hand
One who through all that weary time,
Roamed on a foreign strand,
He brought them news from gallant friends
That made their heart-strings shrill—
M sowl ! I never doubted them !"
Said Rory of the Hill.

Next day the ashen handle,
He took down from where it hung,
The toothed rake, full scornfully,
Into the fire he flung ;
And in its stead a shining blade,
Is gleaming once again—
(Oh ! for a hundred thousand of
Such weapons and such men !)
Bight soldierly he wielded it,
And—going through his drill—
"Attention"—"charge"—"front, point
Cried Rory of the Hill.

She looked at him with woman's ride
With pride and woman's fears :
Oh ! knowledge is a wondrous power
And stronger than the wind ;
And thrones shall fall, and despots bow
Before the might of mind ;
The poet, and the orator
The heart of man can sway
And would to the kind heaven,
That Wolfe Tone were here to-day
Yet trust me friends dear Ireland's strength
Her truest strength, is still,
The rough-and-ready roving boys,
Like Rory of the Hill.

She flew to him, she clung to him
And dried away her tears ;
He feels her pulse beat truly,
While her arms around him twine—
Now God be praised for your stout hear ,
Brave little wife of mine,
He swung his first-born in the air,
While joy his heart did fill—
You'll be a freeman yet, my boy,
Said Rory of the Hill.

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SILVER MOONLIGHT WINDS ARE
                     BLOWING.

SILVER moonlight winds are blowing
Softly o'or ihe summer sea,
Lovely stars in beauty glowing,
Gently watohing o'er my love and me
Now we will wander' since the snnlight
Has to sleey his mantle thrown,
Love's bewitching in the moonlight,
Care and trouble now begone,

Silver moonlight winds are blowing,
Softly o'er the summer sea,
Lovely stars in beauty glowing,
Gontly watching o er my love and me.

Geutly breezes, love, are calling,
Golden light of happy hours,
Smiling ray of starlight gleaming,
Welcome, welcome darling one, to pla
cid bowers,
Flow'rs are sleeeping, till the daylight,
Kisses dewdrops from their bed,
List to music, winds of moonlight,
Sweetest sounds t love are dev,

 MARY BLANE.

I once did lub a pretty gal—
I lub'd her as my iife—
She came from Lousianu
And I made her my dear wife.
At home we lib'd so happy,
Oh, free from grief and pain
But in de winter time of year
I lost my Mary Blane.
CHORUS,
Oh, fare de well poor Mary Blane
One feeling heart bids you adieu
Oh, fere de well, poor Mary Blauel
We'll never meet again.

I Went into de woods one day
To hunt among de cane,
De white men come into ray house,
And took poor Mary Blane.
grieb me berry much to tink.
No hope I entertain
Of ober seeing my dear gal.

FAREWELL TO THE MOUNTAIM

Farewell to the mountain
And sun lighted vale
The-moss bordered streamlet
And balm breathing gale,
All so bright all so fair
Here a seraph might dwell,
Is too lovely for me
Farewell, oh, farewell
                     Farewell &c.

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