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THROUGH TARAS HALLS. 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 !s when some heart indignant breaks,

To show that still she lives.


GEMS SHE WORE. Rich and rare were the gems she wore, And a bright gold ring on her wand

she bore; But, oh! her beauty was far beyond Her sparkling gems or 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

gold ?"

" Sir Knight! I feel not the least alarm, No son of Erin will offer me harm: For, though they love women and

golden store, Sir Knight! they love honor and virtue


On she went, and her maiden smile
In safety lighted her round the green

And blest for ever is she who relied
Upon Erin's honor and Erin's pride.

FLY NOT YET. Fly not yet; 'tis just the hour When pleasure, like the midnight flower That scorns the eye of vulgar light, Begins to bloom for sons of night,

And maids who love the moon. 'Twas but to bless these hours of shade That beauty and the moon were made; 'Tis then their soft attractions glowing Set the tides and goblets flowing.

Oh! stay, - oh! stay, —
Joy so seldom weaves a chain
Like this to-night, that, oh! 'tis pain
To break its links so soon.


THE WATERS MAY GLOIF. 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 tinged with a

warm sunny smile, Though the cold heart to ruin runs

darkly the while.


Fly not yet; the fount that played
In times of old through Ammon's shade,
Though icy cold by day it ran,
Yet still, like souls of mirth, began

To burn when night was near;
And thus should woman's heart and looks
At noon be cold as winter brooks,
Nor kindle till the night, returning,
Brings their genial hour for burning.

Oh! stay, -- oh! stay,
When did morning ever break,
And find such beaming eyes awake

As those that sparkle here?

One fatal remembrance, one

that torows 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 afflic.

tion no sting: Oh! this thought in the midst of enjoy.

ment will stay,

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To pass — but 'twould not do: While Wit a diamond brought,

Which cut his bright way through. So here's to her who long

Hath waked the poet's sigh, The girl who gave to song,

What gold could never buy.


young charms, Which I gaze on so fondly to-day, Were to change by to-morrow, and fleet

in my arms, Like fairy-gifts fading away, Thou wouldst still be adored, as this

moment thou art, Let thy loveliness fade as it will, And around the dear ruin each wish of

my heart Would entwine itself verdantly still. It is not while beauty and youth are

thine own, And thy cheeks unprofaned by a tear, That the fervor and faith of a soul can

be known, To which time will but make thee

more dear; No, the heart that has truly loved never

forgets, But as truly loves on to the close, As the sun-flower turns on her god,

when he sets, The same look which she turned

when he rose.

The love that seeks a home

a Where wealth and grandeur shines, Is like the gloomy gnome

That dwells in dark gold mines. But oh! the poet's love

Can boast a brighter sphere; Its native home's above,

Though woman keeps it here. Then drink to her who long

Hath waked the poet's sigh, The girl who gave to song

What gold could never buy.



OH! blame not the bard, if he fly to

the bowers Where Pleasure lies, carelessly smil.

ing at Fame, He was born for much more, and in

happier hours His soul might have burned with a

holier flame; The string that now languishes loose

o'er the lyre, Might have bent a proud bow to the

warrior's dart; And the lip, which now breathes but

the song of desire, Might have poured the full tide of a

patriot's heart.

DRINK to her who long

Hath waked the poet's sigh, The girl who gave to song

What gold could never buy. Oh! woman's heart was made

For minstrel hands alone; By other fingers plaved,

It yields not half the tone. Then here's to her who long

Hath waked the poet's sigh, The girl who gave to song

What gold could never buy.

At Beauty's door of glass

Where Wealth and Wit once stood, They asked her, " which might pass?”

She answered, “he who could." With golden key Wealth thought

But, alas for his country! - her pride

has gone by, And that spirit is broken, which never

would bend; O'er the ruin her children in secret

must sigh, For 'tis treason to love her, and death

to defend. Unprized are her sons, till they've

learned to betray;

Undistinguished they live, if they

Of milder, calmer beam, shame not their sires;

But there's nothing half so sweet in life And the torch, that would light them

As love's young dream: through dignity's way,

No, there's nothing half so sweet in life Must be caught from the pile where As love's young dream. their country expires.

Though the bard to purer fame may Then blame not the bard, if in pleas- soar, ure's soft dream

When wild youth's past; He should try to forget what he Though he wins the wise, who frowned never can heal;

before, Oh! give but a hope — let a vista but

To smile at last; gleam

He'll never meet Through the gloom of his country,

A joy so sweet, and mark how he'll feel!

In all his noon of fame, Every passion it nursed, every bliss it As when first he sung to woman's car adored,

His soul-felt flame, That instant, his heart at her shrine And, at every close, she blushed to hear would lay down;

The one loved name. While the myrtle, now idly entwined with his crown,

No that hallowed form is ne'er forLike the wreath of Harmodius, got should cover his sword.

Which first love traced ;

Still it lingering haunts the greenest spot But though glory be gone, and though

On memory's waste. hope fade away,

'Twas odor fled Thy name, loved Erin, shall live in

As soon as shed;

'Twas morning's winged dream; Not even in the hour when his heart is 'Twas a light that ne'er can shine again most gay

On life's dull stream: Will he lose the remembrance of Oh! 'twas light that ne'er can shine thee and thy wrongs.

again The stranger shall hear thy lament on On life's dull stream.

his plains; The sigh of thy heart shall be sent

o'er the deep, Till thy masters themselves, as they LESBIA HATH A BEAMING EYE. rivet thy chains,

Lesbia hath a beaming eye, Shall pause at the song of their cap

But no

knows for whom it tive, and weep!

beameth; Right and left its arrows fly, But what they aim at no one dream


Sweeter 'tis to gaze upon
JH! the days are gone, when Beauty My Nora's lid that seldom rises;

Few its looks, but every one,
My heart's chain wove;

Like unexpected light, surprises. When my dream of life from morn till O my Nora Creina, dear, night

My gentle, bashful Nora Creina,
Was love, still love.

Beauty lies
New hope may bloom,

In many eyes,
And days may come

But love in yours, my Nora Creina !

his songs;


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