Again I ask'd my love what was her wish?
And she said, "Oh, love me not too blindly!"
My love I ask'd once more what was her wish?
(While her fond, lovely arms, did entwine me,
And down trickling tears rapidly did gush,)
"'Tis—may my husband's dear hands yet enshrine me,
And to the silent grave, with sad and solemn stave,
He in years far remote may consign me!"
D. B.
The duke felt extremely affected. The pathos of the Irish air, the feeling expressed in the song, and the mournful moment in which it was perused, all most powerfully conspired to operate upon those noble feelings which he too acutely possessed. And as he brought away the MS. the chaplain observed that the duke secretly brushed away the silent tear which trickled down his manly cheek.