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Why should we yet our sail unfurl?
There is not a breath the blue wave to curl.
But when the wind blows off the shore,
Oh, sweetly we’ll rest our weary oar.
Blow, breezes, blow, &c.
Utawa tide, this trembling moon
Shall see us float over thy surges soon:
Saint of this green isle, hear our prayer,
Grant us cool heavens and favouring air,
Blow, breezes, blow, &c.
THO’ YOU LEAVE ME NOW IN SORROW.
Tho’ you leave now in sorrow,
Smiles may light on our love to-morrow;
Doom’d to part, my faithful heart,
A gleam of joy from hope shall borrow.
Ah ne’er forget when friends are near,
This heart alone is thine for ever,
Thou may’st find those who love thee dear,
Bat not a love like mine, O never.
Tho’ you leave me, &c.
