Then, should music, stealing Draw one tear from thee; WAR SONG. REMEMBER THE GLORIES OF BRIEN THE REMEMBER the glories of Brien the brave, That star of the field, which so often hath pour'd But enough of its glory remains on each sword, Mononia! when Nature embellish'd the tint No! Freedom, whose smile we shall never resign, That 'tis sweeter to bleed for an age at thy shrine, Forget not our wounded companions, who stood While the moss of the valley grew red with their blood, 1 Brien Borohme, the great monarch of Ireland, who was killed at the battle of Clontarf in the beginning of the 11th century, after having defeated the Danes in twenty-five engagements. 2 Munster. 3 The palace of Brien. 4 This alludes to an interesting circumstance relating to the Dalgais, the favourite troops of Brien, when they were interrupted in their return from the battle of Clontarf, by Fitzpatrick, prince of Ossory. The wounded men entreated that they might be allowed to fight with the rest. "Let stakes," they said, "be stuck in the ground, and suffer each of us, tied to and supported by one of these stakes, to be placed in his rank by the side of a sound man." "Between seven and eight hundred wounded men (adds O'Halloran), pale, emaciated, and supported in this manner, appeared mixed with the foremost of the troops; never was such another sight exhibited."-History of Ireland, book 12, chap. i. That sun which now blesses our arms with his light Oh! let him not blush, when he leaves us to-night, ERIN! THE TEAR AND THE SMILE IN ERIN! the tear and the smile in thine eyes Saddening through pleasure's beam, Erin! thy silent tear never shall cease, Thy various tints unite, One arch of peace! OH! BREATHE NOT HIS NAME. OH! breathe not his name, let it sleep in the shade, WHEN HE WHO ADORES THEE. WHEN he who adores thee has left but the name Oh! say, wilt thou weep, when they darken the fame Yes, weep, and however my foes may condemn, For Heaven can witness, though guilty to them, With thee were the dreams of my earliest love; Oh! blest are the lovers and friends who shall live But the next dearest blessing that Heaven can give THE HARP THAT ONCE THROUGH TARA'S 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, And hearts, that once beat high for praise, No more to chiefs and ladies bright The chord alone, that breaks at night, Thus Freedom now so seldom wakes, Is when some heart indignant breaks, FLY NOT YET. FLY not yet; 'tis just the hour And maids who love the moon. "Twas but to bless these hours of shade Joy so seldom weaves a chain To break its links so soon. Fly not yet; the fount that play'd Yet still, like souls of mirth, began And thus should woman's heart and looks OH! THINK NOT MY SPIRITS ARE ALWAYS AS LIGHT. OH! think not my spirits are always as light, And as free from a pang, as they seem to you now: Which seldom the rose of enjoyment adorns ; When these blessings shall cease to be dear to my mind. But they who have loved the fondest, the purest, Too often have wept o'er the dream they believed; And the heart that has slumber'd in friendship securest Is happy indeed if 'twas never deceived. But send round the bowl; while a 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. 1 Solis Fons, near the Temple of Ammon. THOUGH THE LAST GLIMPSE OF ERIN WITH THOUGH the last glimpse of Erin with sorrow I see, And thine eyes make my climate wherever we roam. RICH AND RARE WERE THE GEMS SHE 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. 66 'Lady, dost thou not fear to stray, So lone and lovely, through this bleak way? As not to be tempted by woman or gold?" 1 "In the twenty-eighth year of the reign of Henry VIII., an act was made respecting the habits, and dress in general, of the Irish, whereby all persons were restrained from being shorn or shaven above the ears, or from wearing Glibbes, or Coulins (long locks), on their heads, or hair on their upper lip, called Crommeal. On this occasion a song was written by one of our bards, in which an Irish virgin is made to give the preference to her dear Coulin (or the youth with the flowing locks) to all strangers (by which the English were meant), or those who wore their habits. Of this song, the air alone has reached us, and is universally admired."-Walker's Historical Memoirs of Irish Bards, page 134. Mr. Walker informs us also that, about the same period, there were some harsh measures taken against the Irish minstrels. 2 This ballad is founded upon the following anecdote:-"The people were inspired with such a spirit of honour, virtue, and religion, by the great example of Brien, and by his excellent administration, that, as a proof of it, we are informed that a young lady of great beauty, adorned with jewels and costly dress, undertook a journey alone from one end of the kingdom to the other, with a wand only in her hand, at the top of which was a ring of exceeding great value; and such an impression had the laws and government of this monarch made ou the minds of all the people, that no attempt was made upon her honour, nor was she robbed of her clothes or jewels."-Warner's History of Ireland, vol. i. book 10. |