GILDEROY. THE laft, the fatal hour is come That bears my love from me; I hear the dead note of the drum, I mark the gallows tree! The bell has toll'd; it shakes my heart; The trumpet fpeaks thy name; And must my Gilderoy depart To bear a death of shame! No bofom trembles for thy doom; No mourner wipes a tear; 10 134 Alas! his infant beauty wears The form of Gilderoy ! Then will I feek the dreary mound, And weep and linger on the ground, 35 40 i THE HARPER On the green banks of Shannon, when Sheelah was nigh, No blithe Irish lad was fo happy as I; No harp like my own could fo cheerily play, And wherever I went was my poor dog Tray. When at last I was forc'd from my Sheelah to part, 5 She faid (while the forrow was big at her heart), Oh! remember Sheelah when far far away; your And be kind, my dear Pat, to our poor dog Tray. Poor dog! he was faithful and kind, to be fure, And he constantly lov'd me, although I was poor; When the four-looking folks fent me heartless away, I had always a friend in my poor dog Tray. ΙΟ |