Mary's Dream.

THE moon had climb'd the highest hill, That rises o'er the source of Dee, And from its eastern summit shed Her silver light, on tower and tree; When Mary laid her down to sleep, Her tho'ts on Sandy far at sea, When soft and low a voice she heard Say, Mary, weep no more for me.

She from her pillow gently, rais'd Her head, to ask who there might be; She saw young Sandy shiv'ring stand, With visage pale, and hollow eye, O Mary dear, cold is my clay, It lies beneath a stormy sea, Far-far from thee I sleep in death; So Mary, weep no more for me.

Three stormy nights, and stormy days, We toss'd upon the raging main, And long we strove our bark to raise, But all our striving was in vain; E'en then, when horror chill'd my breast, My heart was fill'd with love for thee; The storm is past, and I'm at rest, So Mary, weep no more for me.

O Maiden, dear, thyself prepare, We soon, shall meet upon that shore, Where love is free! from doubt and care, And thou and I shall part no more; Loud sang the Lark, the shadow fled, No more of Sandy could she see, But still the passing spirit said, Sweet Mary, weep no more for me.

OWEN.

THO' far beyond the mountains, that look so distant here, To fight his country's battles last May then went my dear! Ah! well shall I remember with bitter sighs the day: Why Owen, didst thou leave me? at home why did I stay? Ah! well shall I remember, &c.

O cruel were my parents who did my flight restrain, And I was cruel hearted who did at home remain With him I love, contented I'd journey far away, Why Owen didst thou leave me? at home why did I stay? Ah! well shall I remember, &c.

To market at Langollen, each morning do I go, But how to strike a bargain no longer do I know; My father chides at ev'ning, my mother all the day; Why Owen didst thou leave me? at home why did I stay? Ah! well shall I remember, &c.

When thinking of my Owen my eyes with tears they fill, And then my mother chides me because my wheel stands still! How can I think of spinning when Owen's far away! Why Owen didst thou leave me? at home why did I stay? Ah! well shall I remember, &c.

The Beggar Girl.

OVER the mountains,and over the Moore Hungry and barefoot, I wander forlorn; My father is dead, and my mother is poor, And she grieves for the days that will ne'er return. CHORUS. Pity, kind gentlemen, friends of humanity, Cold blows the wind, and night's coming on; Give me some food for mother, for char- ity; Give me some food and I then will be gone.

Call me not lazy back beggar and bold e- nough- Fain would I learn to knit and to sew; I've two little brothers at home, when they are old enough, They will work hard for the gifts you bestow. Pity, kind gentlemen, &c.

O think while you revel so careless and free! Secure from the wind, well clothed and fed, Should fortune so change it, how hard it would be To beg at a door for a morsel of bread! Pity, kind gentlemen, &c.