Quicquid agunt homines, votum, timor, ira, voluptas,
Gaudia, discursus, nostri est farrago libelli."-JUVENAL.
NG'D with the radiance of declining day, ike burnish'd gold, Lough Neagh's (A) waters lay; ar 'neath whose rippling waves the eye might trace -pil'd buildings (B) of a pristine race; ould fain believe (they look'd so fair,) an's nymphs had fix'd their palace there, the restless sea to dream away
ssful hours in Lough Neagh's bay.
ence all-save where a pinnace o'er
kling waves swift-sought the spray-beat shore,
capital letters of the alphabet refer to corresponding e end of the volume.
That girded a small isle-the brightest gem
Which decks Lough Neagh's deep-blue diadem.
Though slight the breeze, impatient of delay,
Onward the pinnace plough'd her watery way;
Proud of her burden, on the inland sea
With swan-like grace she rode triumphantly.
A beauteous object-not so fair the scene
When Cydnus bore dark Egypt's beauteous queen ; (c)
For whom, from Fortune's giddy summit hurl'd,
A Roman lost the sceptre of the world;
What though no silken sails (D) were glitt'ring there?
What though no eastern odours fill'd the air?
What though, according with the lute's soft strain,
No silvery oars embrac'd the dimpled main?
What though within her lay no golden ore?
Her freight was richer far than that of yore,
WheelWhen Jason (E) seized, with her, that Colchian maid,
Who, mad with love, her country's cause betray'd;
Not her's a treasure torn, in eastern climes,
By pallid slaves, from Ophir's glitt'ring mines;
No sparkling gems bore she, far-fetch'd to deck
A regal diadem, or Beauty's neck;
But wedded love and Christian virtue; these
Adorn'd not those who pass'd the "blue Symplegades." (F)
Lucy and Albert, a fond wedded pair,
Blest with bright youth and mutual love, were there.
In eager haste they sought the loveliest isle
Which crowns Lough Neagh's waves, reflecting Nature's
They fled from danger, (so Royal James had fled,
And hid 'neath Gallia's shield (G) his discrown'd head.)
True to his king, on Aughrim's (H) fatal field,
Albert had dar'd a patriot's sword to wield;
St. Ruth had fallen; thrice he strove in vain
'Midst Sarsfield's gallant chivalry to gain
A victory lost through feud (1)—the crimson tide
(That last sad tribute to doom'd Stuart's pride)
His charger's fetlocks bath'd-frantic he sought
Death, spurning flight with deep dishonour fraught;
Again he charg'd the foe-his breast around,
Deep-pierced with many a gash, was tightly wound
That standard, which, when all was lost, he vowed
E'en yet should be his guide, if not, his shroud;
Sternly he swore the banner'd harp should ne'er
Grace with its folds the Saxon wolf-dog's lair,
Or add another link to that fell chain
Which Albyn destin'd for her foe; in vain,
Hoping 'gainst hope, he fought; "Shame! bitter shame!" When Sarsfield fled, he cried. His country's fame
Darken'd by many a cloud, his mind foresaw,
Prescient e'en then of that glad hour, when Law
Would d-grasp brute Force's sceptre; when the might
Of Justice should restore his country's right,
And rend the chain which, heavy, cold, and sharp,
With icy rivets silenc'd Erin's harp;
Fearless, though sorely press'd, he long'd for breath,
To heap deep scorn on those who fled from death,
Yet fac'd dishonour; "Hark! the bitter taunt
With which the Dutchman (J) greets us; loud they vaunt
Their Saxon prowess; on the Celt they pour
Sharp, biting raillery; 'midst the battle's roar
It rings too clearly; oh! my country, must
Thy well-earn'd fame lie prostrate in the dust?
And bootless still must Erin's life-blood rain
In crimson torrents on this death-strew'd plain?
Still must her sons for freedom vainly bleed?
Must world-wide valour ne'er at home succeed?
Must my lost country still in vain invoke
The aid of heaven 'gainst a stranger's yoke?
Still in submission, abject, base, and low,
Must Erin crouch before an alien foe?
Still must she bend, and reed-like shun the stroke
Which she should meet unbending as the oak?
Forbid it, Heaven!; yet one more trenchant blow,
Yet one more stroke, though bootless, 'gainst the foe;
I crave no more"-"Twas giv'n ;—he fell, and lay
Like marble cold, and senseless as the clay
Whereon his head reclin'd; the hoof-trod ground
Reek'd with his blood. A faithful follower found
His master there, and 'neath a lowly shed,
Staunch'd each wide-gaping wound, till Weakness fled
From Strength's awaken'd arm. His monarch's cause
Had sunk to rise no more. Earth's, Heaven's laws
Had been alike derided by the foe
Who scoff'd at treaties. (K) Much he scorn'd the low
Degenerate feeling, which led many a friend
Of former days, with "bated pride," to bend
Before the victor, or to shun by flight
On Gallia's shores, proud Albyn's conqu'ring might.
Hoping that victory's wreath might yet around
His country's standard gleam, he sought and found
His beauteous Lucy; then they fled, to rest
In safe concealment, on Lough Neagh's breast.
One follower only shar'd their dang❜rous flight,
The faithful Dermot, who at Aughrim's fight
Had bath'd with tears his much-loved Master's head,
And raised him, senseless as the high-piled dead,
Which lay above, around him; he their guide
To far Lough Neagh, on whose crystal tide
In youth he oft had sported; well he knew
That isle (L) to which their pinnace swiftly flew ;
And oft had dared the giddy summit to track,
Of that tall pile, where safe from scourge and rack,
He hoped to baffle Law's stern bloodhounds, who
Pursued his master with a scent too true.
Lucy was nobly born; through each blue vein,
Italia's proudest blood (on which no stain
E'er rested) purely flowed; her noble sire
Had given to his child Italia's fire,
Chasten'd by modest Erin, from whose shore
Young Lucy's mother sprung-(a golden store
Of wealth was hers, and many a wide domain,
Wherein were blended, forest, hill, and plain
On Erin's shores ;) her noble father there,
A keen observer came-none half so fair
As Erin's daughters 'neath Italia's sun;
Lucy's fair parent soon was wooed and won.
But Fate, alas! soon check'd her happiness; disease
Her noble husband smote; no hand could ease
The anguish of his brow, save her's whom he
Had wedded at the altar; well did she
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