I KNEW BY THE SMOKE.

I knew by the smoke that so gracefully curled

Above the green elms, that a cottage was near,
And I said: "If there 's peace to be found in the world,
The heart that is humble might hope for it here."

It was noon, and on flowers that languished around,
In silence reposed the voluptuous bee;
Every leaf was at rest, and I heard not a sound,

Save the woodpecker's tapping the hollow beech-tree.

And here in this lone little wood," I exclaimed,
"With a maid who was lovely to soul and to eye,
Who would blush when I praised her, and weep if I blamed,
How blest could I live, and how calm could I die."

By the shade of yon sumach, whose red berry dips
In the gush of the fountain, how sweet to recline,
And to know that I sighed upon innocent lips,

Which had never been sighed on by any but mine.

FAIREST! PUT ON AWHILE.

Fairest! put on awhile

These pinions of light I bring thee,
And o'er thy own green isle

In fancy let me wing thee.
Never did Ariel's plume
At golden sunset hover
O'er such scenes of bloom

As I shall waft thee over!

Fields where the Spring delays,
And fearlessly meets the ardor
Of the warm Summer's gaze

With only her tears to guard her.
Rocks, through myrtle boughs
In grace majestic frowning-

Like a bold warrior's brows

That Love has just been crowning.

Islets, so freshly fair,

That never hath bird come nigh them,

But from his course through air
He hath been won down by them,―
Types, sweet maid, of thee,

Whose look, whose blush inviting,
Never did Love yet see

From Heaven, without alighting.

Lakes where the pearl lies hid,

And caves where the diamond 's sleeping, Bright as the gems that lid

Of thine let fall in weeping.

Glens where ocean comes

To escape the wild wind's rancor,

And harbors, worthiest homes,

Where freedom's sails could anchor.

GO WHERE GLORY WAITS THEE.

Go where glory waits thee,
But, while fame elates thee,
O still remember me.
When the praise thou meetest
To thine ear is sweetest,

O then remember me.
Other arms may press thee,
Dearer friends caress thee,
All the joys that bless thee,
Sweeter far may be;
But when friends are nearest,
And when joys are dearest,
O then remember me!

When, at eve, thou rovest
By the star thou lovest,
O then remember me!
Think, when home returning,
Bright we've seen it burning,
O thus remember me.
Oft as summer closes,
When thine eye reposes
On its ling'ring roses,

Once so loved by thee,
Think of her who wove them,
Her who made thee love them,
O then remember me.

When, around thee dying,
Autumn leaves are lying,
O then remember me!
And, at night, when gazing
On the gay hearth blazing,
O still remember me.
Then should music, stealing
All the soul of feeling,
To thy heart appealing,
Draw one tear from thee;
Then let memory bring thee
Strains I used to sing thee,-
O then remember me.

O THE SIGHT ENTRANCING.

O the sight entrancing,
When morning's beam is glancing
O'er files, arrayed

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.

O the sight entrancing,

When morning's beam is glancing

O'er files, arrayed

With helm and blade,

And plumes, in the gay wind dancing!

Yet, 't is not helm or feather-
For ask yon despot, whether

His plumèd 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,

"T is heart alone,

Worth steel and stone,
That keeps men free forever!
O that sight entrancing,
When morning's beam is glancing

O'er files, arrayed

With helm and blade,

And in Freedom's cause advancing!

THE MEETING OF THE WATERS.1

There is not in the wide world a valley so sweet
As that vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet; 2
O, 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;
'T was not the soft magic of streamlet or hill,
O no, it was something more exquisite still.

"T was that friends, the beloved of my bosom, were near,
Who made every 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 Avoca! how calm could I rest

In thy bosom of shade, with the friends I love best,
Where the storms that we feel in this cold world should cease,
And our hearts, like thy waters, be mingled in peace.

RICH AND RARE WERE THE GEMS SHE WORE.3

Rich and rare were the gems she wore,

And a bright gold ring on her wand she bore;
But, O, her beauty was far beyond

Her sparkling gems or snow-white wand.

1 "The Meeting of the Waters " forms a part of that beautiful scenery which lies between Rathdrum and Arklow in the county of Wicklow, and these lines were suggested by a visit to this romantic spot in the summer of the year 1807.

2 The rivers Avon and Avoca.

& This ballad is founded upon the following anecdote: "The people