As long as the world has such eloquent eyes,
As before me this moment enraptured 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,
They've none, even there more enamour'd than I.
And as long as this harp can be wakened 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 the star of the west, by whose shadowy splendor,
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, though they were even more bright than the green
Of that isle they inhabit in the Heaven-blue sea,
As I never these 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
Whose sunshine and smiles must be equally rare;
Did they want a supply of cold hearts for that station,
Heaven 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 cold comfortless Sphere,
And leave earth to such spirits as you, love, and me.
THE IRISHMAN.
Tune-Vive La.
The savage loves his native shore,
Though rude the soil and chill the air,
Well then may Erin's sons adore,
Their soil, which nature form'd so fair:
What flood e'er wash'd a shore so sweet
As Shannon great or Pastoral Bann ;
Or who a friend or foe can meet,
So generous as an Irishman.
His hand is rash, his heart is warm,
But principle is still his guide;
None more relents a deed of harm,
Or none forgives with nobler pride,
He may be duped but can't be scared,
More fit to practise than to plan
He dearly earns h.s poor reward,
But spends it like an Irishman.
If poor or strange, he'll for you pay,
And guide you where you safe may be ;
If you'r his guest whilst e'er you stay,
His cottage holds a Jubilee;
His inmost soul he will unlock,
Should he but once your merit scan,
Your confidence he scorns to mock,
For faithful is an Irishman.
By honor swayed, in wo or weal,
Whate'er she bids, he dares to do 3
Try him in bribe he will not fail;
Put him on fire, you'll find him true-
He's ever faithful; be his post
Whate'er it may, in danger's van,
And if the field of fame be lost,
It will not be by an Irishman.
Erin, lov'd land from age to age,
Be thou more safe, more great, more free,
Fortune be your's, and if you wage
Defensive war, may victory
Her blessings spread through every field,
And gentle breezes freely fan,
May cheerful smiles, serenely gild
The breast of every Irishman.
The American Tar.
By Mr. John M'Creery.
The Goddess of Freedom borne down by oppression,
In Europe's fam❜d regions no longer found rest,
She wept at the heart-rending wide desolation,
And languishing look'd for relief from the West;
She heard that Columbia was rearing a temple,
Where she would be worshipp'd in peace and in war,
Old Neptune confirm'd it, cried lo! here's a sample-
Presenting with pride an American Tar.
Cease weeping then, goddess, to thee I've consign'd him,
He loves thee, and he thy protector will be,
Believe me, a more gallant youth you will find him,
Than e'er bore your banners through ocean or sea:
When his galley he trims, firm resolved, for the onset,
Wo! wo! to that foe, who his prowess will dare,
Long will his country lament, that he e'er met,
And braved the avenging American Tar.
He boasted not, but firm as the oak of his forest,
Serene as a calm, but as fierce as a storm,
When wild roars the battle, you'll find him the foremost;
When victor, the prostrate protecting from harm.
And I've decreed he's so gallant a fellow,
O'er my wide dominions, he shall be a star,
Will light you in triumph, o'er every billow,
His name, listen Angels, American Tar.
The proud turban'd Turk, my dominions infested,
And piracy roam'd uncontroll'd o'er the wave,
His courage the tar of Columbia tested,
And taught him that freemen, tho' peaceful, are brave. Leviathan dread, who controls the wide ocean,
And opes his huge paws for destruction and war;
Who, vaunting his strength, throws the wide world in commoShrinks back in dismay from the American Tar.
For the rights of his country he fights, not for plunder,
No longer injustice shall harass the deep;
I give him my trident, and Jove gives him thunder,
And well he the sacred deposites will keep.
Beneath his mild sway, sailors' rights well protected
Shall be and free trade shed its blessings afar,
The praises of nations shall greet the respected,
The daring, heroic, American Tar.
THE MOTHER.
'Twas on a cliff, whose rocky base
Baffled the briny wave;
Whose cultur'd heights their verdant store
To many a tenant gave.
A mother, led by rustic cares,
Had wander'd with her child;
Unwean'd the babe-yet on the grass
He frolick'd and he smil'd.
With what delight the mother glow'd,
To mark the infant's joy;
How oft would pause, amidst her toil,
To contemplate her boy.
Yet soon, by other cares estrang'd,
Her thoughts the child forsook;
Careless, he wanton'd on the ground,
Nor caught his mother's look.
Crop'd was each flower that caught his eye,
Till, scrambling o'er the green,
He gain'd the cliff's unshelter'd edge,
And pleas'd, survey'd the scene.
'Twas now the mother, from her toil,
Turn'd to behold her child;
The urchin gone! her cheeks were flush'd
Her wand'ring eye was wild!
She saw him on the cliff's rude brink
Now careless peeping o'er!
He turn'd, and on his mother smil'd,
Then sported as before.
Sunk was her voice! t'was vain to fly,
'Twas vain the brink to brave:
Oh, Nature! it was thine alone
To prompt the means to save.
She tore her kerchief from her breast,
And laid her bosom bare;
He saw-delighted, left the bank,
And sought to banquet there.
The late Counsellor Curran, perceiving his approaching dissolu tion, handed to Lady Faulkner, the following melancholy impromptu. He lived but a few hours afterwards.
For welcome warm, for greeting kind,
It's present thanks the tongue can tell,
But soon the heart no tongue may find,
Then thank thee with--a sad farewell.
Deep in the dreary forest gloom,
Where not a flower is seen to bloom,
And where a poison'd streamlet laves
The bank where deadly night shade waves,
Is seen the slanderer's lonely tomb.
The boding owlet, hovering round,
Sends forth her screech of fearful sound;
The black wing'd raven lingers there,
And blasting dews pollute the air,
And fall upon the unhallowed mound.
For him who sleeps in that lone bed,
No tear of fond regret is shed,
No kindred dear his fate bemoan,
Or raise the consecrated stone,
With pious hands above his head.
Alike to heaven and men a foe,
The only joy on earth he knew,
Was to destroy his neighbour's fame,
To blight the fairest, brightest name,
And aim at Virtue's breast a blow.
On his dark brow scowl'd Envy dire,
His eyeballs flashed a baleful fire,
Whilst Malice and envenomed Hate,
Dwelt in his heart in sullen state,
And swelled it with a hellish ire.
Indignant, saw th' Almighty power,
The wretch, fell woes around him shower,
The bolt of heaven in thunder sped,
And struck the prowling monster dead,
That he should curse the world no more.
And now in dreary forest gloom,
Where not a flower is seen to bloom,
And where a poisoned streamlet laves
The bank where deadly night shade waves,
Is seen the Slanderer's tomb.
|