But send round the bowl, and be happy awhile :- The thread of our life would be dark, Heaven knows! When these blessings shall cease to be dear to my mind. Too often have wept o'er the dream they believed; But send round the bowl; while a relic of truth Is in man or in woman, this prayer shall be mine,- And the moonlight of friendship console our decline. THOUGH THE LAST GLIMPSE OF ERIN WITH SORROW THOUGH the last glimpse of Erin with sorrow I see, To the gloom of some desert or cold rocky shore, And I'll gaze on thy gold hair as graceful it wreathes, RICH AND RARE WERE THE GEMS SHE WORE.t "In the twenty-eighth year of the reign of Henry VIII., an act was made respecting the habits, and dress in general, of the Irish, whereby all persons were restrained from being shorn or shaven above the ears, or from wearing Glibbes, or Coulins (long locks), on their heads, or hair on their upper lip, called Crommeal. On this occasion a song was written by one of our bards, in which an Irish virgin is made to give the preference to her dear Coulin (or the youth with the flowing locks) to all strangers (by which the English were meant), or those who wore their habits. Of this song, the air alone has reached us, and is universally admired."-Walker's Historical Memoirs of Irish Bards, page Mr. Walker informs us also that, about the same period, there were some harsh measures taken against the Irish minstrels. 134. This ballad is founded upon the following anecdote :-"The people were inspired with such a spirit of honour, virtue, and religion, by the great example But oh! her beauty was far beyond "Lady, dost thou not fear to stray, So lone and lovely, through this bleak way? As not to be tempted by woman or gold?" "Sir Knight! I feel not the least alarm, For, though they love women and golden store, On she went, and her maiden smile In safety lighted her round the green isle; Upon Erin's honour and Erin's pride. AS A BEAM O'ER THE FACE OF THE WATERS MAY GLOW. One fatal remembrance, one sorrow that throws Oh! this thought in the midst of enjoyment will stay, THE MEETING OF THE WATERS.* THERE is not in the wide world a valley so sweet Ere the bloom of that valley shall fade from my heart. of Brien, and by his excellent administration, that, as a proof of it, we are informed that a young lady of great beauty, adorned with jewels and costly dress, undertook a journey alone from one end of the kingdom to the other, with a wand only in her hand, at the top of which was a ring of exceeding great value; and such an impression had the laws and government of this monarch made on the minds of all the people, that no attempt was made upon her honour, nor was she robbed of her clothes or jewels."-Warner's History of Ireland, vol. i. book 10. "The Meeting of the Waters" forms a part of that beautiful scenery which lies between Rathdrum and Arklow, in the county of Wicklow, and these lines were suggested by a visit to this romantic spot in the summer of the year 1807. The rivers Avon and Avoca Yet it was not that Nature had shed o'er the scene 'Twas that friends, the beloved of my bosom, were near, Sweet vale of Avoca! how calm could I rest In thy bosom of shade, with the friends I love best, ST. SENANUS AND THE LADY. ST. SENANUS.* "OH! haste and leave this sacred isle, And I have sworn this sainted sod THE LADY. "O Father! send not hence my bark, Thy morn and evening prayer: The Lady's prayer Senanus spurned; Till morning's light delayed, In a metrical life of St. Senanus, which is taken from an old Kilkenny MS., and may be found among the Acta Sanctorum Hiberniæ, we are told of his flight to the island of Scattery, and his resolution not to admit any woman of the party; he refused to receive even a sister saint, St. Cannera, whom an ingel had taken to the island for the express purpose of introducing her to him. The following was the ungracious answer of Senanus, according to his poetical biographer : Cui præsul, quid fœminis See the Acta Sanct. Hib. p. 610. According to Dr. Ledwich, St. Senanus was no less a personage than the river Shannon; but O'Connor and other antiquarians deny this metamorphose indignantly HOW DEAR TO ME THE HOUR. How dear to me the hour when daylight dies, And sunbeams melt along the silent sea, For then sweet dreams of other days arise, And memory breathes her vesper sigh to thee. And, as I watch the line of light, that plays Along the smooth wave t'ward the burning west, I long to tread that golden path of rays, And think 'twould lead to some bright isle of rest. TAKE BACK THE VIRGIN PAGE. TAKE back the virgin page, White and unwritten still; Thoughts come as pure as light, Pure as even you require; Yet let me keep the book; To let wild passion write One wrong wish there. Haply, when from those eyes Worthy those eyes to meet, Thoughts that not burn, but shine, Pure, calm, and sweet. And as, o'er ocean far, Seamen their records keep, Led by some hidden star Through the cold deep; So may the words I write Tell through what storms I stray You still the unseen light Guiding my way. 341 THE LEGACY WHEN in death I shall calm recline, To sully a heart so brilliant and light; Then take my harp to your ancient hall; Where weary travellers love to call.* On lips that beauty hath seldom blessed. To her he adores shall bathe its brim, HOW OFT HAS THE BENSHEE CRIED. Bright links that Glory wove, Peace to each manly soul that sleepeth ; We're fallen upon gloomy days! + Every bright name that shed Light o'er the land is fled. Dark falls the tear of him who mourneth Lost joy, or hope that ne'er returneth: Wept o'er a hero's bier. * In every house was one or two harps, free to all travellers, who were the more caressed the more they excelled in music."-O'Halloran. I have endeavoured here, without losing that Irish character which it is my object to preserve throughout this work, to allude to the sad and ominous fatality by which England has been deprived of so many great and good men at a moment when she most requires all the aids of talent and integrity. |