The hares, perhaps, in weight may have lost half an ounce, But after this frost, just see how they'll bounce. Singing, gently, so ho! halloo, let 'em go, Look, she slouches one ear-she's a fizzer, I know. They're running like wildfire; the black dog's a turn: Now the blue un's a go-by: she's off for the fern. He has thrown, and has miss'd her: the black dog is in; He's a mortal good judge that can tell which will win. Singing, gently, so ho! halloo, let 'em go, Each goes like an arrow just shot from a bow. The black dog is leading the blue dog a nose; Singing, gently, so ho! halloo! let 'em go; Now, Topper! now, Bugle! they'll kill her!-they won't; They have her!-they haven't!-she beats 'em!-she don't! Singing, gently, so ho! halloo! let 'em go; I ne'er saw better mettle than all the three show. See, the judge takes his hat off, and gets from his horse, And so, UNDECIDED's this wonderful course; They've managed to kill her, but no man can tell Which won it, they both ran so HONEST and WELL! Singing, gently, so ho! halloo! let 'em go,— To see such another, I'd fifty miles go! Come, fill up your glasses, whatever you drink (I shall hold him a muff who endeavours to slink),— Here's success to the "long tails," their owners, and all, Who are fond of the sport, whether great folks or small. Singing, gently, so ho! halloo! let 'em go, There's nothing can stop 'em except frost or snow. LITTLE FOOLS AND GREAT ONES. [Music by HENRY RUSSELL. C. MACKAY.] When at the social board you sit, Remember, though abuse is vile, That use may be divine: That heaven in kindness gave the grape And when in youth's too fleeting hours And have not sought some loving heart And if a friend deceived you once, That little fools confide too much, In weal or woe, be truthful still, Let work and hope go hand in hand, In work or pleasure, love or drink, Your drink not maddening, but to cheer: So shall your bliss not pall, But great ones not at all. THE REAPER AND THE FLOWERS. W. H. LONGFELLOW.] [Music by J. W. HOBBS. There is a reaper whose name is Death, He reaps the bearded grain at a breath, "Shall I have nought that is fair ?" saith he- He gazed at the flowers with tearful eyes, It was for the Lord of Paradise He bound them in his sheaves. "My Lord hath need of these flow'rets gay," The reaper said, and smiled; "Dear tokens of the earth are they, Where He was once a child. "They shall all bloom in fields of light, Transplanted by his care, And saints, upon their garments white, And the mother gave, in tears and pain, O, not in cruelty, not in wrath, The reaper came that day; "Twas an angel visited the green earth, THE FOUR-LEAVED SHAMROCK. S. LOVER.] [Music by S. Lover. I'll seek a four-leaved shamrock And if I find the charmed leaf, But I will play the enchanter's part Oh! not a tear, nor aching heart, To worth I would give honour, I'd dry the mourner's tears, And to the pallid lip recall The smile of happier years; And hearts that had been long estranged, Should meet again like parted streams, And mingle as of old. Oh! thus I'd play, &c. The heart that had been mourning Should see them all returning, Like Noah's faithful dove. And Hope should launch her blessed bark And Misery's children have an ark, And saved from sinking be. Oh! thus I'd play, &c. THE CHILD AND THE STARS. J. E. CARPENTER.] [Music by J. E. PERRING. "They tell me, dear father, each gem in the sky But why do they dwell in those regions so high, I know that the sun makes the blossoms to spring, "My child, it is said, that yon stars in the sky Are worlds that are fashion'd like this, Where the souls of the good and the gentle who die Assemble together in bliss; And the rays that they shed o'er the earth is the light That tells us, who dwell in these regions of night, "Then, father, why still press your hand to your brow, Why still are your cheeks pale with care? If all that was gentle be dwelling there now, "Thou chidest me well," said the father, with pain, "Thy wisdom is greater by far; We may mourn for the lost, but we should not complain, While we gaze on each beautiful star." |