The Modern Scottish Minstrel Volume Vi Part 3

And gold makes a bridge Every evil to span; Oh! believe me, believe me, Believe if you can.

OH, THE HAPPY TIME DEPARTED!

_Air by Sir H. R. Bishop._

Oh, the happy time departed!

In its smile the world was fair; We believed in all men's goodness; Joy and hope were gems to wear; Angel visitants were with us, There was music in the air.

Oh, the happy time departed!

Change came o'er it all too soon; In a cold and drear November Died the leafy wealth of June; Winter kill'd our summer roses; Discord marr'd a heavenly tune.

Let them pa.s.s--the days departed-- What befell may ne'er befall; Why should we with vain lamenting Seek a shadow to recall?

Great the sorrows we have suffer'd-- Hope is greater than them all.

COME BACK! COME BACK!

Come back! come back! thou youthful Time, When joy and innocence were ours, When life was in its vernal prime, And redolent of sweets and flowers.

Come back--and let us roam once more, Free-hearted, through life's pleasant ways, And gather garlands as of yore-- Come back--come back--ye happy days!

Come back! come back!--'twas pleasant then To cherish faith in love and truth, For nothing in dispraise of men Had sour'd the temper of our youth.

Come back--and let us still believe The gorgeous dream romance displays, Nor trust the tale that men deceive-- Come back--come back--ye happy days!

Come back!--oh, freshness of the past, When every face seem'd fair and kind, When sunward every eye was cast, And all the shadows fell behind.

Come back--'twill come; true hearts can turn Their own Decembers into Mays; The secret be it ours to learn-- Come back--come back--ye happy days!

TEARS.

_Music by Sir H. R. Bishop._

O ye tears! O ye tears! that have long refused to flow, Ye are welcome to my heart--thawing, thawing, like the snow; I feel the hard clod soften, and the early snowdrops spring, And the healing fountains gush, and the wildernesses sing.

O ye tears! O ye tears! I am thankful that ye run; Though ye trickle in the darkness, ye shall glitter in the sun; The rainbow cannot s.h.i.+ne if the rain refuse to fall, And the eyes that cannot weep are the saddest eyes of all.

O ye tears! O ye tears! till I felt you on my cheek, I was selfish in my sorrow, I was stubborn, I was weak.

Ye have given me strength to conquer, and I stand erect and free, And know that I am human by the light of sympathy.

O ye tears! O ye tears! ye relieve me of my pain; The barren rock of pride has been stricken once again; Like the rock that Moses smote, amid h.o.r.eb's burning sand, It yields the flowing water to make gladness in the land.

There is light upon my path, there is suns.h.i.+ne in my heart, And the leaf and fruit of life shall not utterly depart.

Ye restore to me the freshness and the bloom of long ago-- O ye tears! happy tears! I am thankful that ye flow.

CHEER, BOYS! CHEER!

Cheer, boys! cheer! no more of idle sorrow; Courage, true hearts, shall bear us on our way!

Hope points before, and shews the bright to-morrow-- Let us forget the darkness of to-day!

So farewell, England! much as we may love thee, We 'll dry the tears that we have shed before; Why should we weep to sail in search of fortune?

So farewell, England! farewell evermore!

Cheer, boys! cheer! for England, mother England!

Cheer, boys! cheer! the willing strong right hand; Cheer, boys! cheer! there 's work for honest labour, Cheer, boys! cheer! in the new and happy land!

Cheer, boys! cheer! the steady breeze is blowing, To float us freely o'er the ocean's breast; The world shall follow in the track we 're going, The star of empire glitters in the west.

Here we had toil and little to reward it, But there shall plenty smile upon our pain; And ours shall be the mountain and the forest, And boundless prairies, ripe with golden grain.

Cheer, boys! cheer! for England, mother England!

Cheer, boys! cheer! united heart and hand!

Cheer, boys! cheer! there 's wealth for honest labour, Cheer, boys! cheer! in the new and happy land!

MOURN FOR THE MIGHTY DEAD.

_Music by Sir H. R. Bishop._

Mourn for the mighty dead, Mourn for the spirit fled, Mourn for the lofty head-- Low in the grave.

Tears such as nations weep Hallow the hero's sleep; Calm be his rest, and deep-- Arthur the brave!

n.o.bly his work was done; England's most glorious son, True-hearted Wellington, s.h.i.+eld of our laws.

Ever in peril's night Heaven send such arm of might-- Guardian of truth and right-- Raised in their cause!

Dried be the tears that fall; Love bears the warrior's pall, Fame shall his deeds recall-- Britain's right hand!

Bright shall his memory be!

Star of supremacy!

Banner of victory!

Pride of our land.

A PLAIN MAN'S PHILOSOPHY.

_Music by the Author._