Fancy may trace some line And as, o'er ocean far, Seamen their records keep, Through the cold deep; Tell thro' what storms I stray You still the unseen light Guiding my way. THE LEGACY. WHEN in death I shall calm recline, To sully a heart so brilliant and light; When the light of my song is o'er, Then take my harp to your ancient hall; Where weary travellers love to call.* "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. Then if some bard, who roams forsaken, Keep this cup, which is now o'erflowing, On lips that beauty hath seldom blest. To her he adores shall bathe its brim, Then, then around my spirit shall hover, And hallow each drop that foams for him. THE DIRGE. Air-"The dear black maid." How oft has the Benshee cried! Bright links that Glory wove, Sweet bonds entwin'd by Love! Long may the fair and brave 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 Quench'd are our beacon lights- So long shall Erin's pride Tell how they liv'd and died. I have endeavoured here, without losing that Irish character which it is my object to preserve throughout this work, to allude to that 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. + This designation, which has been applied to Lord Nelson before, is the title given to a celebrated Irish hero, in a poem by O'Gnive, the bard of O'Neil, which is quoted in the "Philosophical Survey of the South of Ireland," page 433. "Con, of the hundred fights, sleep in thy grassgrown tomb, and upbraid not our defeats with thy victo ries!" Fox, "ultimus Romanorum." WE MAY ROAM THRO' THIS WORLD. Air-"Garyone." WE may roam thro' this world, like a child at a feast, Who but sips of a sweet, and then flies to the rest; And, when pleasure begins to grow dull in the east, We may order our wings, and be off to the west; But if hearts that feel, and eyes that smile, Are the dearest gifts that Heaven supplies, We never need leave our native isle, For sensitive hearts, and for sun-bright eyes. Then remember, wherever your goblet is crown'd, Thro' this world, whether eastward or westward · you roam, When a cup to the smile of dear woman goes round, Oh! remember the smile that adorns her at home. In England, the garden of Beauty is kept That the garden's but carelessly watch'd after all. Which warns the touch, while winning the sense, Nor charms us least when it most repels. Then remember, wherever your goblet is crown'd, Thro' this world, whether eastward or westward you roam, When a cup to the smile of dear woman goes round, Oh! remember the smile that adorns her at home. In France, when the heart of a woman sets sail But just pilots her off, and then bids her good-bye, The same as he look'd when he left the shore. Then, remember, wherever the goblet is crown'd, Thro' this world, whether eastward or westward you roam, When a cup to the smile of dear woman goes round, Oh! remember the smiles that adorn her at home. EVELEEN'S BOWER. OH! weep for the hour When to Eveleen's bower The Lord of the Valley with false vows came; From the heavens that night, And wept behind the clouds o'er the maiden's shame. |