TO A FRIEND.

I.

My own friend-my own friend!
There's no one like my own friend;
For all the gold

The world can hold

I would not give my own friend.

II.

So bold and frank his bearing, boy, Should you meet him onward faring, boy, In Lapland's snow

Or Chili's glow,

You'd say "What news from Erin, boy?"

III.

He has a curious mind, boy

'Tis jovial-'tis refined, boy— 'Tis richly fraught

With random thought,

And feelings wildly kind, boy.

IV.

'Twas eaten up with care, boy, For circle, line, and square, boy

And few believed

That genius thrived

Upon such drowsy fare, boy.

V.

But his heart that beat so strong, boy, Forbade her slumber long, boy

So she shook her wing,

And with a spring

Away she bore along, boy.

VI.

She wavers unconfined, boy,

All wayward on the wind, boy,

Yet her song

All along

Was of those she left behind, boy.

VII.

And we may let him roam, boy,

For years and years to come, boy;

In storms and seas

In mirth and ease,

He'll ne'er forget his home, boy.

VIII.

O give him not to wear, boy,
Your rings of braided hair, boy-
Without this fuss

He'll think of us

His heart-he has us there, boy.

IX.

For what can't be undone, boy,
He will not blubber on, boy-
He'll brightly smile,

Yet think the while

Upon the friend that's gone, boy.

X.

O saw you his fire-side, boy,

And those that round it bide, boy,
You'd glow to see

The thrilling glee
Around his fire-side, boy.

XI.

Their airy poignant mirth, boy, From feeling has its birth, boy; 'Tis worth the groans

And all the moans

Of half the dolts on earth, boy.

XII.

Each soul that there has smiled, boy,

Is Erin's native child, boy

A woodbine flower

In Erin's bower,

So elegant, so wild, boy.

XIII.

The surly clouds that roll, boy,

Will not for storms console, boy;

'Tis the rainbow's light

So tenderly bright

That softens and cheers the soul, boy.

XIV.

I'd ask no friends to mourn, boy,
When I to dust return, boy-
No breath of sigh,

Or brine of eye

Should gather round my urn, boy.

XV.

I just would ask a tear, boy,
From every eye that's there, boy;
Then a smile each day,

All sweetly gay,

My memory should repair, boy.

XVI.

The laugh that there endears, boyThe memory of your years, boyWould more delight

Your hovering sprite

Than half the world's tears, boy.

The three following pieces are not printed in Archdeacon Russell's Remains, and do not appear to have been known to Wolfe's biographer. They were found some years ago in manuscript, bound as addenda at the end of a copy of the third edition (1827) of Russell's book, now in the possession of the Rev. J. O. Murray, M.A., of Leicester. The pieces are written in a faded hand-writing on a single quarto sheet, on the fourth page of which it is stated that "the first of these poems was lately published in a magazine"-the last two are unpublished.

The Sonnet, together with two stanzas from "The Contrast” and the concluding stanza of "The Last Rose of Summer," have been printed by Mr. T. W. Rolleston in his Treasury of Irish Poetry (1900).