Whose music could make me

Spring up in a hurry,

And caper about as

It did Mister Murray.*

Yet, if there's no stopping

The course of your journey

If nothing that I say

From your own will can turn ye—

I pray the Almighty

To guard and watch o'er you,

Till you find here again

Open arms before you.

*To explain this verse, it it necessary to state that my "dear aunt" (now, alas, the late Miss Dillon) had once or twice played for Mrs. Leary several Irish melodies from Bunting's collection, at which she appeared to be very much delighted. Old Murray, from whom I obtained the keen on Mr. Hugh Power (p. 66), had been so inspired a few evenings before by a similar performance, that, on hearing a well-known jig, forgetful of his age, his heavy brogues, and his being in a drawing-room, he began capering about with the nimbleness of a lad of fifteen.

ΤΟ

MISS MARIA DICKSON.

YES, I have gathered them together!
They should be precious songs to thee;
For, like the breeze o'er mountain heather,
They breathe a spirit wild and free.

Though in the memory lingers yet the dread
Of songs that once could rouse to battle-field,
Their power of ill is gone,-the bard is dead,

AND IRELAND'S HARP NOW LIVES ON ENGLAND'S SHIELD ;—
There never may its strings a discord yield,
But its past murmurs, fearless, true, and bold,-
Why should the honest heart or hand withhold?

T. C. C.

FINIS.

SIX BALLADS.

SIX BALLADS,

WITH BURDENS

FROM MS. No. CLXVIII.

IN THE LIBRARY OF

CORPUS CHRISTI COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE.

EDITED BY

JAMES GOODWIN, B.D.

FELLOW AND TUTOR OF CORPUS CHRISTI COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE.

LONDON.

PRINTED FOR THE PERCY SOCIETY,

BY T. RICHARDS, 100, ST. MARTIN'S LANE.

M.DCCC.XLIV.