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One fatal remembrance, one sorrow that throws
Oh! this thought in the midst of enjoyment will stay, Like a dead, leafless branch in the summer's bright
ray ; The beams of the warm sun play round it in vain, It may smile in his light, but it blooms not again!
THE MEETING OF THE WATERS.
There is not in the wide world a valley so sweet
Yet it was not that Nature had shed o'er the scene
'Twas that friends the beloved of my bosom were
near, Who made every dear scene of enchantment more
dear, And who felt how the best charms of nature improve, When we see them reflected from looks that we love.
Sweet vale of Avoca! how calm could I rest
should cease, And our hearts, like thy waters, be mingled in peace.
WHILE GAZING ON THE MOON'S LIQIT.
A moment from her smile I turn'd
But, too far,
Each proud star,
Much more dear
That mild sphere,
While brighter eyes unheeded play,
Which bless my home and guide my way! The day had sunk in dim showers,
But midnight now, with lustre meek, Illumined all the pale flowers, Like hope, that lights a mourner's cheek
I said (while
The moon's smile
“ The moon looks
On many brooks,
For many a lover looks to thee,
One Mary in the world for me.
AFTER THE BATTLE.
Night closed around the conqueror's way,
And lightnings show'd the distant hill, Where those who lost that dreadful day
Stood, few and saint, but searless still !
The soldier's hope, the patriot's zeal,
For ever dimm'd, for ever cross'd; Oh! who shall say what heroes seel,
When all but life and honour's lost ! The last sad hour of freedom's dream,
And valour's task, moved slowly by, While mute they watch'd, till morning's beam
Should rise, and give them light to die ! There is a world where souls are free,
Where tyrants taint not nature's bliss; If death that world's bright opening be,
Oh! who would live a slave in this ?
Love's YOUNG DREAM.
My heart's chain wove!
Was love, still love!
And days may come
Of milder, calmer beam,
As love's young dream!
As love's young dream!
When wild youth's past ;
To smile at last ;
A joy so sweet,
In all his noon of fame,
His soul-felt flame,
The one loved name !
Oh! that hallow'd form is ne'er forgot,
Which first-love traced ;
On memory's waste !
As soon as shed ;
'Twas morning's winged dream;
On life's dull streanı !
On life's dull stream.
When twilight dews are falling soft
Upon the rosy sea, love!
Has lighted me to thee, love!
Ah! dost thou gaze at even,
Thou'lt yet be mine in Heaven?
There's not a flower I see, love!
Some joy I've lost with thee, love!
When, friends and foes forgiven,
May turn to smiles in Heaven !
THE YOUNG MAY-MOON.
The young May-moon is beaming, love!
How sweet to rove
Through Morna's grove,
Then awake! the heavens look bright, my dear! "Tis never too late for delight, my dear!
And the best of all ways
To lengthen our days, Is to steal a few hours from the night, my dear!
Now all the world is sleeping, love!
And I, whose star,
More glorious far,
Or, in watching the flight
of bodies of light, He might happen to take thee for one, my dear!
THE MINSTREL BOY.
The minstrel boy to the war is gone,
In the ranks of death you'll find him;
And his wild harp slung behind him.
“Though all the world betrays thee,
One faithful harp shall praise thee!”
Could not bring his proud soul under!
For he tore its chords asunder;
Thou soul of love and bravery!
They shall never sound in slavery!"