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FLY NOT YET.
And maids who love the moon.
Oh! stay,-oh! stay, -
To break its links so soon.
To burn when night was near,
Oh! stay,--oh! stay, -
As those that sparkle here?
OH! THINK NOT MY SPIRITS ARE ALWAYS AS LIGHT.
And as free from a pang, as they seem to you now:
Will return with to-morrow to brighten my brow. No ;-- life is a waste of wearisome hours,
Which seldom the rose of enjoyment adorns, And the heart that is soonest awake to the flowers
Is always the first to be touched by the thorns.
"Solis Fons, near the Temple of Ammon.
But send round the bowl, and be happy awhile :
May we never meet worse, in our pilgrimage here,
And the smile that compassion can turn to a tear!
If it were not with friendship and love intertwined ;
When these blessings shall cease to be dear to my mind.
Too often have wept o'er the dream they believed ;
Is happy indeed if 'twas never deceived.
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
RICH AND RARE WERE THE GEMS SHE WORE.
Rich and rare were the gems she wore,
“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 tne 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. Or this song, the air alone has reached us, and is universally admired." --Walker's Historica, Mentoirs of Irish Bards, page 134. Mr. Walker informs us also that, about the same period, there were some harsh measures taken against the Irish minstrels.
+ 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
AS A BEAM O'ER THE FACE OF THE WATERS MAY GLOW.
As a beam o'er the face of the waters may glow,
THE MEETING OF THE WATERS.*
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 kingdorn 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 1o.
*"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
ST. SENANUS AND THE LADY.
“OH! haste and leave this sacred isle,
A female form I see ;
“O Father ! send not hence my bark,
Thy morn and evening prayer :
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 Hibernia, 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 fæminis
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.
WRITTEN ON RETURNING A BLANK BOOK.
Take back the virgin page,
White and unwritten still ;
The leaf must fill.
Pure as even you require ;
Love turns to fire.
Yet let me keep the book;
Oft shall my heart renew,
Dear thoughts of you.
Like you, too bright and fair ;
One wrong wish there.
Haply, when from those eyes
Far, far away I roam,
Towards you and home;
Worthy those eyes to meet,
Pure, calm, and sweet.
And as, o'er ocean far,
Seamen their records keep,
Through the cold deep;
Tell through what storms I stray-
Guiding my way.