We think how great had been our bliss, As trav❜llers oft look back at eve, When eastward darkly going, To gaze upon that light they leave Still faint behind them glowing,— So, when the close of pleasure's day To gloom hath near consign'd us, We turn to catch one fading ray Of joy that's left behind us. WHEN COLD IN THE EARTH. WHEN cold in the earth lies the friend thou hast lov'd, Be his faults and his follies forgot by thee then; Or, if from their slumber the veil be remov'd, Weep o'er them in silence, and close it again. And oh! if 'tis pain to remember how far From the pathways of light he was tempted to roam, Be it bliss to remember that thou wert the star That arose on his darkness, and guided him home. From thee and thy innocent beauty first came The revealings, that taught him true love to adore, To feel the bright presence, and turn him with shame From the idols he blindly had knelt to before. O'er the waves of a life, long benighted and wild, Thou camest, like a soft golden calm o'er the sea; And if happiness purely and glowingly smil'd On his ev'ning horizon, the light was from thee. And though, sometimes, the shades of past folly might rise, And though falsehood again would allure him to stray, He but turn'd to the glory that dwelt in those eyes, And the folly, the falsehood, soon vanish'd away. As the Priests of the Sun, when their altar grew dim, At the day-beam alone could its lustre repair, So, if virtue a moment grew languid in him, He but flew to that smile, and rekindled it there. WREATH the bowl Tow'rds heaven to-night, The wreaths be hid, While wine is near, Then, wreath the bowl Tow'rds heaven to-night, "Twas nectar fed Of old, 'tis said, Their Junos, Joves, Apollos; And man may brew His nectar too, The rich receipt's as follows: Take wine like this, Let looks of bliss Around it well be blended, TO LADIES' EYES. To Ladies' eyes around, boy, We can't refuse, we can't refuse, Though bright eyes so abound, boy, "Tis hard to choose, 'tis hard to choose. For thick as stars that lighten Yon airy bow'rs, yon airy bow'rs, The countless eyes that brighten This earth of ours, this earth of ours. But fill the cup-where'er, boy, Our choice may fall, our choice may fall, We're sure to find Love there, boy, So drink them all! so drink them all! Some looks there are so holy, They seem but giv'n, they seem but giv'n, As shining beacons, solely, To light to heav'n, to light to heav'n. But fill the cup-where'er, boy, Our choice may fall, our choice may fall, We're sure to find Love there, boy, So drink them all! so drink them all! In some, as in a mirror, THEY MAY RAIL AT THIS LIFE. THEY may rail at this life-from the hour I began it, I found it a life full of kindness and bliss; Love seems portray'd, Love seems portray'd, And, until they can show me some happier planet, But shun the flatt'ring error, 'Tis but his shade, 'tis but his shade. Himself has fix'd his dwelling In eyes we know, in eyes we know, And lips-but this is telling So here they go! so here they go! Fill up, fill up-where'er, boy, Our choice may fall, our choice may fall, We're sure to find Love there, boy, So drink them all! so drink them all! FORGET NOT THE FIELD. FORGET not the field where they perish'd, Oh! could we from death but recover Those hearts as they bounded before, In the face of high heav'n to fight over That combat for freedom once more; Could the chain for an instant be riven Which Tyranny flung round us then, No, 'tis not in Man, nor in Heaven, To let Tyranny bind it again! But 'tis past-and, tho' blazon'd in story The name of our Victor may be, Accurst is the march of that glory Which treads o'er the hearts of the free. Far dearer the grave or the prison, Illumed by one patriot name, Than the trophies of all, who have risen On Liberty's ruins to fame. More social and bright, I'll content me with this. As long as the world has such lips and such eyes, As before me this moment enraptur'd I see, They may say what they will of their orbs in the skies, But this earth is the planet for you, love, and me. In Mercury's star, where each moment can bring them New sunshine and wit from the fountain on high, Though the nymphs may have livelier poets to sing them, 1 They've none, even there, more enamour'd than I. And, as long as this harp can be waken'd to love, And that eye its divine inspiration shall be, They may talk as they will of their Edens above, But this earth is the planet for you, love, and me. In that star of the west, by whose shadowy splendour, At twilight so often we've roam'd through the dew, There are maidens, perhaps, who have bosoms as tender, And look, in their twilights, as lovely as you. But tho' they were even more bright than the queen Of that isle they inhabit in heaven's blue sea, As I never those fair young celestials have seen, Why this earth is the planet for you, love, and me. As for those chilly orbs on the verge of creation, Where sunshine and smiles must be equally rare, Did they want a supply of cold hearts for that station, Heav'n knows we have plenty on earth we could spare. Oh! think what a world we should have of it here, If the haters of peace, of affection, and glee, Were to fly up to Saturn's comfortless sphere, And leave earth to such spirits as you, love, and me. Tous les habitans de Mercure sont vifs.- Pluralité des Mondes. "La terre pourra être pour Vénus l'étoile du berger et la mère des amours, comme Vénus l'est pour nous. des Mondes. -Pluralité 1 In a metrical life of St. Senanus, which is taken from an old Kilkenny MS., and may be found among the Acta Sanctorum Hibernia, we are told of his flight to the island of Scattery, and his resolution not to admit any woman of the party; and that he refused to receive even a sister saint, St. Cannera, whom an angel had taken to the island for the express purpose of introducing her to him. The following was the ungracious answer of Senanus, according to his poetical biographer: The Lady's prayer Senanus spurn'd; Till morning's light delay'd; NE'ER ASK THE HOUR. NE'ER ask the hour-what is it to us How Time deals out his treasures? The golden moments lent us thus, Are not his coin, but Pleasure's. If counting them o'er could add to their blisses, I'd number each glorious second : But moments of joy are, like Lesbia's kisses, Too quick and sweet to be reckon'd. Then fill the cup-what is it to us How Time his circle measures? The fairy hours we call up thus, Obey no wand, but Pleasure's. Young Joy ne'er thought of counting hours, A dial, by way of warning. But Joy loved better to gaze on the sun, Than to watch with old Care how the shadow stole on, And how fast that light was going. So fill the cup-what is it to us How Time his circle measures? The fairy hours we call up thus, Obey no wand, but Pleasure's. SAIL ON, SAIL ON. SAIL on, sail on, thou fearless barkWherever blows the welcome wind, It cannot lead to scenes more dark, More sad than those we leave behind. Cui Præsul, quid fœminis See the Acta Sanct. Hib., page 610. According to Dr. Ledwich, St. Senanus was no less a personage than the river Shannon; but O'Connor and other antiquarians deny the metamorphose indignantly. |