 | Songs and ballads by Samuel Lover |  |
NATIVE MUSIC.
Oh! native music! beyond comparing
The sweetest far on the ear that falls,
Thy gentle numbers the heart remembers,
Thy strains enchain us in tender thralls.
Thy tones endearing,
Or sad or cheering,
The absent soothe on a foreign strand;
Ah! who can tell
What a holy spell
Is in the song of our native land?
The sweetest far on the ear that falls,
Thy gentle numbers the heart remembers,
Thy strains enchain us in tender thralls.
Thy tones endearing,
Or sad or cheering,
The absent soothe on a foreign strand;
Ah! who can tell
What a holy spell
Is in the song of our native land?
99
The proud and lowly, the pilgrim holy,
The lover, kneeling at beauty's shrine,
The bard who dreams by the haunted streams,—
All, all are touch'd by thy power divine!
The captive cheerless,
The soldier fearless;
The mother,—taught by Nature's hand,
Her child when weeping,
Will lull to sleeping,
With some sweet song of her native land!
The lover, kneeling at beauty's shrine,
The bard who dreams by the haunted streams,—
All, all are touch'd by thy power divine!
The captive cheerless,
The soldier fearless;
The mother,—taught by Nature's hand,
Her child when weeping,
Will lull to sleeping,
With some sweet song of her native land!
| Songs and ballads by Samuel Lover | |