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I SAW from the beach, when the morning was shining, A bark o'er the waters move gloriously on;

I came when the sun o'er that beach was declining, The bark was still there, but the waters were gone.

And such is the fate of our life's early promise,

So passing the spring-tide of joy we have known; Each wave, that we danc'd on at morning, ebbs from us, And leaves us, at eve, on the bleak shore alone.

Ne'er tell me of glories, serenely adorning

The close of our day, the calm eve of our night;

Give me back, give me back, the wild freshness of Morning, Her clouds and her tears are worth Evening's best light.

Oh, who would not welcome that moment's returning,
When passion first wak'd a new life through his frame,
And his soul, like the wood, that grows precious in burning
Gave out all its sweets to love's exquisite flame.

ALONE IN CROWDS TO WANDER ON.

ALONE in crowds to wander on,

And feel that all the charm is gone
Which voices dear and eyes belov'd

Shed round us once, where'er we rov'd-
This, this the doom must be

Of all who've lov'd, and liv'd to see

The few bright things they thought would stay
For ever near them, die away.

Tho' fairer forms around us throng,

Their smiles to others all belong,

And want that charm which dwells alone
Round those the fond heart calls its own.

Where, where the sunny brow?

The long-known voice-where are they now?
Thus ask I still, nor ask in vain,
The silence answers all too plain.

Oh, what is Fancy's magic worth,
If all her art cannot call forth
One bliss like those we felt of old
From lips now mute, and eyes now cold?
No, no,-her spell is vain,-

As soon could she bring back again

Those eyes themselves from out the grave,
As wake again one bliss they gave.

ONE BUMPER AT PARTING.

ONE bumper at parting-though many
Have circled the board since we met,
The fullest, the saddest of any,

Remains to be crown'd by us yet.
The sweetness that pleasure hath in it,
Is always so slow to come forth,
That seldom, alas, till the minute

It dies, do we know half its worth. But come may our life's happy measure. Be all of such moments made up; They're born on the bosom of Pleasure,

They die 'midst the tears of the cup.

As onward we journey, how pleasant
To pause and inhabit awhile

Those few sunny spots, 'ike the present,
That 'mid the dull wilderness smile!
But Time, like a pitiless master,

Cries "Onward!" and spurs the gay hours

Ah, never doth Time travel faster,

Than when his way lies among flowers. But come,-may our life's happy measure Be all of such moments made up; They're born on the bosom of Pleasure,

They die 'midst the tears of the cup.

We saw how the sun look'd in sinking,
The waters beneath him how bright;
And now, let our farewell of drinking
Resemble that farewell of light.
You saw how he finish'd, by darting

His beam o'er a deep billow's brim-
So, fill up, let's shine at our parting,
In full liquid glory, like him.
And oh may our life's happy measure
Of moments like this be made up,
'Twas born on the bosom of Pleasure,
It dies 'mid the tears of the cup.

THE HARP THAT ONCE THROUGH TARA'S HALL

THE harp that once through Tara's halls

The soul of music shed,

Now hangs as mute on Tara's walls,

As if that soul were fled.

So sleeps the pride of former days,

So glory's thrill is o'er,

And hearts, that once beat high for praise,
Now feel that pulse no more.

No more to chiefs and ladies bright
The harp of Tara swells;

The chord alone, that breaks at night,
Its tale of ruin tells.

Thus Freedom now so seldom wakes,
The only throb she gives,

Is when some heart indignant breaks,
To show that still she lives.

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COME, REST IN THIS BOSOM.

COME, rest in this bosom, my own stricken deer,

Though the herd have fled from thee, thy home is still here;
Here still is the smile, that no cloud can o'ercast,
And a heart and a hand all thy own to the last.

Oh! what was love made for, if 'tis not the same
Through joy and through torment, through glory and shame ?
I know not, I ask not, if guilt's in that heart,

I but know that I love thee, whatever thou art.

Thou hast call'd me thy Angel in moments of bliss,
And thy Angel I'll be, 'mid the horrors of this,-
Through the furnace, unshrinking, thy steps to pursue,
And shield thee, and save thee, or perish there too!

'TIS GONE, AND FOR EVER.

'Tis gone, and for ever, the light we saw breaking, Like Heaven's first dawn o'er the sleep of the deadWhen Man, from the slumber of ages awaking,

Look'd upward, and bless'd the pure ray, ere it fled. 'Tis gone, and the gleams it has left of its burning But deepen the long night of bondage and mourning, That dark o'er the kingdoms of earth is returning,

And darkest of all, hapless Erin, o'er thee.

For high was thy hope, when those glories were darting
Around thee, through all the gross clouds of the world;
When Truth, from her fetters indignantly starting,
At once, like a Sun-burst, her banner unfurl'd.
Oh! never shall earth see a moment so splendid!
Then, then--had one Hymn of Deliverance blended
The tongues of all nations-how sweet had ascended
The first note of Liberty, Erin, from thee!

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