We'll go boating, gently floating
On dream river, shoheen sho!
By the meadows where the shadows
Gleam and darken, come and go.

Husha-bye, O! Closer lie, O!
Closer lie to mother's breast,
Awake or sleeping, in God's keeping
May my baby always rest.

Through the rushes, 'mong the bushes
Winds are whispering soft and low,
While my pleasure-to my treasure
Is to croon-hush O! hush O!

The sailing's over, under cover
Hides thy blue eyes' dewy glow,
Sprite nor fairy ne'er shall scare thee,
Angels care thee-lulla lo!

WHERE THE PRIMROSES GROW BY
THE NORE

OME dear Fancy, my fay, we'll be happy to-day.

C Spread your jubilant wings for a soar,

O'er the ocean we'll go to a fair spot I know, Where the primroses grow by the NoreThere we'll revel in blooms whose delicious perfumes Fill the soul with fond mem'ries of yore, While the dark waters flow in a crystalline glow Where the primroses grow by the Nore.

When the morning's gray mist by the sun god is

kissed,

'Til the meadows awake to his glow,

And new blossoms arise 'neath his life-giving eyes
From their beryl beds bursting below.

Then the daffodils dance, and forget-me-nots glance
Through the fern that enfringes the shore,
And the parting streams go in meandering flow
Where the primroses grow by the Nore.

Now the wandering feet find a solitude sweet
In a sylvan retreat cool and green,

Where the hedge rows slope down from a deep wooded

crown

And the river steals softly between.

Nooks and knolls there abound-there is stillness

profound,

Save the sough of the sedge by the shore,

There may dreams come and go from the heart's overflow

Where the primroses grow by the Nore.

O the birds sing so sweet where the parted streams meet,

And in confluence fleet bound away,

And the skies, gold and blue, pearly isles floating through,

Spread their glory around the bright day;

Here the fair Lacken grove, famed for idylls of love,
Lifts its vista of trees from the shore,

And the winds whisper low fairy secrets that show
Where the primroses grow by the Nore.

Sparkling Nore of the dells, oft my memory dwells On the walks and the wells by thy side,

On thy bridges and bow'rs, and where Ormonde's proud tow'rs

Chose to mirror their charms in thy tide, And thou rolling along in perpetual song,

All unchanged from the dear days of yore, When we roamed to and fro, hearts and faces aglow, Where the primroses grow by the Nore.

Hearts and faces-alas! deep down under the grass Where no Spring winds can pass there they lie And no sob can awake or no sorrow can break

Through their earth-shrouded sleep with its cry; In our hearts they're enshrined, with our lives they're entwined

Closer still than in dear days of yore,

And together we'll go where the parted streams flow When the primroses grow by the Nore.

ANDREW ORR
(1822)

IN EXILE: AUSTRALIA

HE sunny South is glowing in the glow of
Southern glory,

THE

And the Southern Cross is waving o'er the

freest of the free;

Yet in vain, in vain my weary heart would try to hide

the story

That evermore 'tis wandering back, dear native land, to thee:

The heathy hills of Malazan, the Bann's translucent waters,

Glenleary's shades of hazel, and Agivy's winding streams,

And Kathleen of the raven locks, the flower of Erinn's daughters

Lost heaven of wildering beauty! thou art mine at least in dreams.

Oh! the green land, the old land,

Far dearer than the gold land,

With all its landscape glory and unchanging Summer skies;

Let others seek their pleasures

In 'the chase of golden treasures,

Be mine a dream of Erinn and the light of Kathleen's

eyes.

Sweet scenes may group around me, hill and dale, lagoon and wildwood,

And eyes as bright and cloudless as the azure skies above;

But strange the face of nature—not the happy haunts of childhood,

And cold the glance of beauty-not the smile of early love;

Even in the pulse of joy itself the native charm is wanting,

For distant far the bosoms that would share it as their

own:

Too late to learn that loving hearts will never bear transplanting;

Uprooted once, like seedless flowers, they wither lost

and lone.

Oh! the old land, the green land,

The land of lands, the queen land;

Keep, keep the gorgeous splendor of your sunny Southern shore ;

Unfading and undying,

O'er the world between us lying,

The hallowed loves of former days are mine for ever

more.