And the heart that is soonest awake to the flowers, Is always the first to be touch'd by the thorns! But send round the bowl, and be happy awhile;

May we never meet worse in our pilgrimage here Than the tear that enjoyment can gild with a smile, And the smile that compassion can turn to a tear!

The thread of our life would be dark, Heaven knows! If it were not with friendship and love intertwin'd; And I care not how soon I may sink to repose,

When these blessings shall cease to be dear to my mind!

But they who have lov'd the fondest, the purest,

Too often have wept o'er the dream they believ'd; And the heart that has slumber'd in friendship securest, Is happy indeed if 'twas never deceived.

But send round the bowl; while the relic of truth

Is in man or in woman, this prayer shall be mine That the sunshine of love may illumine our youth, And the moonlight of friendship console our decline!

Tho' the last glimpse of Erin with sorrow Isee.

Air-Coulin.

Though the last glimpse of Erin with sorrow I see,
Yet wherever thou art shall seem Erin to me;

In exile thy bosom shall still be my home,

And thine eyes make my climate wherever we roam.

To the gloom of some desert, or cold rocky shore, Where the eye of the stranger can haunt us no more, I will fly with my Coulin, and think the rough wind Less rude than the foes we leave frowning behind :

And I'll gaze on thy gold hair, as graceful it wreathes, And hang o'er thy soft harp, as wildly it breathes : Nor dread that the cold-hearted Saxon will tear One chord from that harp, or one lock from that hair.

Rich and rare were the gems

Air-The Summer is coming.

she wore.

Rich and rare were the gems she wore,8
And a bright gold ring on her wand she bore,
But, oh! her beauty was far beyond
Her sparkling gems and snow-white wand.

"Lady, dost thou not fear to stray,

So lone and lovely, through this bleak way?
Are Erin's sons so good or so cold,

As not to be tempted by woman or gold?"

"Sir Knight! I feel not the least alarm;
No son of Erin will offer me harm:
For, though they love woman and golden store,
Sir Knight! they love honour and virtue more?"

On she went, and her maiden smile

In safety lighted her round the Green Isle;
And bless'd for ever is she who relied

Upon Erin's honour and Erin's pride!

As a beam o'er the face of the waters may glow.

Air-The Young Man's Dream.

As a beam o'er the face of the waters may glow, While the tide runs in darkness and coldness below, So the cheek may be ting'd with a warm sunny smile, Though the cold heart to ruin runs darkly the while.

One fatal remembrance, one sorrow, that throws
Its bleak shade alike o'er our joys and our woes,
To which life nothing darker or brighter can bring,
For which joy has no balm, and affliction no sting :-

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 vainIt may smile in his light, but it blooms not again!

The meeting of the waters.

Air-The old head of Denis.

There is not in the wide world a valley so sweet
As that vale in whose bosom the bright waters
meet.10

Oh! the last rays of feeling and life must depart
Ere the bloom of that valley shall fade from my heart!

Yet it was not that nature had shed o'er the scene
Her purest of crystal and brightest of green;
'Twas not the soft magic of streamlet or hill,
Oh no!-it was something more exquisite still :-

'Twas that friends, the belov'd of my bosom, were

near,

Who made ev'ry 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 Ovoca! how calm could I rest

In thy bosom of shade, with the friends I love best, Where the storms which we feel in this cold world should cease,

And our hearts, like thy waters, be mingled in peace!

St. Senanus and the lady.

Air-The Brown Thorn.

ST. SENANUS.11

"Oh! haste, and leave this sacred isle,
Unholy bark ere morning smile;
For on thy deck, though dark it be,
A female form I see ;

And I have sworn this sainted sod
Shall ne'er by woman's feet be trod !”

THE LADY.

"Oh! father, send not hence my bark,
Through wintry winds and billows dark;
I come, with humble heart, to share
Thy morn and ev'ning pray'r;
Nor mine the feet, oh, holy Saint!
The brightness of thy sod to taint."

The Lady's pray'r Senanus spurn'd;
The winds blew fresh, the bark return'd:
But legends hint, that had the maid

Till morning's light delay'd,
And given the Saint one rosy smile,
She ne'er had left his lonely isle.