And though, perhaps—but breathe it to no one-
Like liquor the witch brew sat midnight so awful,
This philter in secret was first taught to flow on,
Yet 'tis n't less potent for being unlawful.
And, ev'n though it taste of the smoke of that flame,
Which in silence extracted its virtue forbidden-
Fill up there's a fire in some hearts I could name,
Which may work too its charm, though as law-
less and hidden.

So drink of the cup- for oh there's a spell in
Its every drop 'gainst the ills of mortality;
Talk of the cordial that sparkled for Helen!
Her cup was a fiction, but this is reality.

THE FORTUNE-TELLER.

Down in the valley come meet me to-night,
And I'll tell you your fortune truly
As ever was told, by the new-moon's light,
To a young maiden, shining as newly.

But, for the world, let no one be nigh,

Lest haply the stars should deceive me ; Such secrets between you and me and the sky Should never go farther, believe me.

If at that hour the heav'ns be not dim,
My science shall call up before you
A male apparition, -the image of him
Whose destiny 'tis to adore you.

And if to that phantom you'll be kind,
So fondly around you he'll hover,
You'll hardly, my dear, any difference find
"Twixt him and a true living lover.

Down at your feet, in the pale moonlight,

He'll kneel, with a warmth of devotionAn ardour, of which such an innocent sprite You'd scarcely believe had a notion.

What other thoughts and events may arise,

As in destiny's book I've not seen them, Must only be left to the stars and your eyes To settle, ere morning, between them.

1 Paul Zealand mentions that there is a mountain in some part of Ireland, where the ghosts of persons who have died in foreign lands walk about and converse with those they meet, like living people. If asked why they do not return to their homes, they say they are obliged to go to Mount Hecla, and disappear immediately.

2 The particulars of the tradition respecting O'Donohue and bis White Horse, may be found in Mr. Weld's Account of Killarney, or more fully detailed in Derrick's Letters. For many years after his death, the spirit of this hero is supposed to have been seen on the morning of May-day, gliding over

OH, YE DEAD!

Он, ye Dead! oh, ye Dead! whom we know by the light you give

From your cold gleaming eyes, though you move like men who live,

Why leave you thus your graves,

In far off fields and waves,

Where the worm and the sea-bird only know your bed,

To haunt this spot where all

Those eyes that wept your fall, And the hearts that wail'd you, like your own, lie dead?

It is true, it is true, we are shadows cold and wan; And the fair and the brave whom we lov'd on earth are gone;

But still thus ev'n in death,

So sweet the living breath

Of the fields and the flow'rs in our youth we wander'd o'er,

That ere, condemn'd, we go

To freeze 'mid Hecla's snow,

We would taste it awhile, and think we live once more!

O'DONOHUE'S MISTRESS.

Of all the fair months, that round the sun
In light-link'd dance their circles run,
Sweet May, shine thou for me;
For still, when thy earliest beams arise,
That youth, who beneath the blue lake lies,
Sweet May, returns to me.

Of all the bright haunts, where daylight leaves
Its lingering smile on golden eves,

Fair Lake, thou'rt dearest to me;
For when the last April sun grows dim,
Thy Naïads prepare his steed for him
Who dwells, bright Lake, in thee.

the lake on his favourite white horse, to the sound of sweet unearthly music, and preceded by groups of youths and maidens, who flung wreaths of delicate spring flowers in his path.

Among other stories, connected with this Legend of the Lakes, it is said that there was a young and beautiful girl whose imagination was so impressed with the idea of this visionary chieftain, that she fancied herself in love with him, and at last, in a fit of insanity, on a May-morning threw herself into the lake.