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Who that ever hath heard him-hath drank at the

source

Of that wonderful eloquence, all Erin's own,

In whose high-thoughted daring, the fire and the force, And the yet untam'd spring of her spirit are shown

An eloquence rich-wheresoever its wave

Wander'd free and triumphant-with thoughts that shone through,

As clear as the brook's stone of lustre, and gave
With the flash of the gem, its solidity too.

Who that ever approach'd him, when free from the crowd,

In a home full of love, he delighted to tread 'Mong the trees which a nation had giv'n, and which

bow'd,

As if each brought a new civic crown for his head:

That home where-like him who as fable had told Put the rays from his brow, that his child might

come near

Every glory forgot, the most wise of the old

Became all that simplest and youngest hold dear.

Is there one who has thus, through his orbit of life, But at a distance observ'd him-through glory, through blame,

In the calm of retreat, in the grandeur of strife, Whether shining or clouded, still and the same ?

Such a union of all that enriches life's hour,

Of the sweetness we love and the greatness we

praise,

As that type of simplicity blended with power,

A child with a thunderbolt only portrays.

Oh, no!-not a heart that e'er knew him but mourns, Deep, deep, o'er the grave, where such glory is

shrin'd

O'er a monument fame will preserve, 'mong the urns Of the wisest, the bravest, the best of mankind!

Oh, the sight entrancing.

Air-Planxty Sudley.

Oh, the sight entrancing,

When morning's beam is glancing

O'er files, array'd

With helm and blade,

And plumes, in the gay wind dancing!
When hearts are all high beating,
And the trumpet's voice repeating
That song, whose breath

May lead to death,

But never to retreating!

Oh, the sight entrancing,

When morning's beam is glancing
O'er files, array'd

With helm and blade,

And plumes, in the gay wind dancing!

Yet, 'tis not helm or feather

For ask yon despot, whether
His plumed bands

Could bring such hands

And hearts as ours together?
Leave pomps to those who need 'em-
Adorn but man with freedom,

And proud he braves

The gaudiest slaves,

That crawl, where monarchs lead 'em, The sword may pierce the beaver, Stone walls in time may sever,

'Tis heart alone,

Worth steel and stone,

That keeps men free for ever!
Oh, that sight entrancing,

When the morning's beam is glancing

O'er files, array'd

With helm and blade,

And in freedom's cause advancing!

Sweet Innisfallan.

Air-The captivating youth.

Sweet Innisfallan, fare thee well,
May calm and sunshine long be thine!
How fair thou art let others tell,
While but to feel how fair is mine!

Sweet Innisfallan, fare thee well,

And long may light around thee smile, As soft as on that evening fell, When first I saw thy fairy Isle !

Thou wert too lovely then for one
Who had to turn to paths of care-
Who had through vulgar crowds to run,
And leave thee bright and silent there;

No more along thy shores to come,
But, on the world's dim ocean toss'd,
Dream of thee sometimes, as a home
Of sunshine he had seen and lost!

Far better in thy weeping hours
To part from thee, as I do now,
When mist is o'er thy blooming bowers,
Like sorrow's veil on beauty's brow.

For, though unrivall'd in thy grace,
Thou dost not look, as then, too blest,
But, in thy shadows, seemst a place
Where weary man might hope to rest.

Might hope to rest, and find in thee
A gloom like Eden's, on the day
He left its shade, when every tree,

Like thine, hung weeping o'er his way!

Weeping or smiling, lovely Isle !

And still the lovelier for thy tears

For though but rare thy sunny smile,

'Tis Heav'n's own glance, when it appears.

Like feeling hearts, whose joys are few,

.

But, when indeed they come, divine

The steadiest light the sun e'er threw

Is lifeless to one gleam of thine!

'Twas one of those dreams.

Air-The Song of the Woods.

"Twas one of those dreams, that by music are brought, Like a light summer haze, o'er the poet's warm

thought

When, lost in the future, his soul wanders on,

And all of this life, but its sweetness, is gone.

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