Song.--Where Is Miss Myrtle?

AIR--“Sweet Kitty Clover.”

Where is Miss Myrtle? can anyone tell? Where is she gone, where is she gone? She flirts with another, I know very well; And I--am left all alone! She flies to the window when Arundel rings,-- She’s all over smiles when Lord Archibald sings,-- It’s plain that her Cupid has two pair of wings: Where is she gone, where is she gone? Her love and my love are different things; And I--am left all alone!

I brought her, one morning, a rose for her brow; Where is she gone, where is she gone? She told me such horrors were ne’er worn now: And I--am left all alone! But I saw her at night with a rose in her hair, And I guess who it came from--of course I don’t care! We all know that girls are as false as they’re fair; Where is she gone, where is she gone? I’m sure the lieutenant’s a horrible bear: And I--am left all alone!

Whenever we go on the Downs for a ride, Where is she gone, where is she gone? She looks for another to trot by her side: And I--am left all alone! And whenever I take her downstairs from a ball, She nods to some puppy to put on her shawl: I’m a peaceable man, and I don’t like a brawl;-- Where is she gone, where is she gone? But I would give a trifle to horsewhip them all; And I--am left all alone!

She tells me her mother belongs to the sect, Where is she gone, where is she gone? Which holds that all waltzing is quite incorrect; And I--am left all alone! But a fire’s in my heart, and a fire’s in my brain, When she waltzes away with Sir Phelim O’Shane; I don’t think I ever can ask her again: Where is she gone, where is she gone? And, Lord! since the summer she’s grown very plain; And I--am left all alone!

She said that she liked me a twelvemonth ago; Where is she gone, where is she gone? And how should I guess that she’d torture me so? And I--am left all alone! Some day she’ll find out it was not very wise To laugh at the breath of a true lover’s sighs; After all, Fanny Myrtle is not such a prize: Where is she gone, where is she gone? Louisa Dalrymple has exquisite eyes; And I’ll be--no longer alone!

THE CONFESSION.

“Father--Father--I confess-- Here he kneeled and sighed, When the moon’s soft loveliness Slept on turf and tide. In my ear the prayer he prayed Seems to echo yet; But the answer that I made-- Father--I forget! Ora pro me!

“Father--Father--I confess-- Precious gifts he brought; Satin sandal, silken dress; Richer ne’er were wrought; Gems that make the daylight dim, Plumes in gay gold set;-- But the gaud I gave to him-- Father--I forget! Ora pro me!

“Father--Father--I confess-- He’s my beauty’s thrall, In the lonely wilderness, In the festive hall; All his dreams are aye of me, Since our young hearts met; What my own may sometimes be-- Father--I forget! Ora pro me!”