Sir Knight! I feel not the least alarm, No son of Erin will offer me harm: For though they love women and golden store, On she went, and her maiden smile In safety lighted her round the green isle; Upou Erin's honour and Erin's pride. AS A BEAM O'ER THE FACE OF THE WATERS MAY GLOW. As a beam o'er the face of the waters may glow, While the tide rums in darkness and coldness below, Oh! this thought in the midst of enjoyment will stay, THE MEETING OF THE WATERS.1 THERE is not in the wide world a valley so sweet, Yet it was not that Nature had shed o'er the scene "Twas that friends, the beloved of my bosom, were near, clothes or jewels.- Warner's History of Ireland, vol. i. book 10. 1The Meeting of the Waters' forms a part of that beautiful scenery which lies between Rathdrum and Arklow, in the county of Wicklow, ST. SENANUS AND THE LADY. ST. SENANUS.1 OH! haste and leave this sacred isle, And I have sworn this sainted sod THE LADY. O Father! send not hence my bark, The Lady's prayer Senanus spurn d; HOW DEAR TO ME THE HOUR. How dear to me the hour when daylight dies, And, as I watch the line of light, that plays 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; 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: Cui præsul, quid fœminis See the Acta Sanct. Hib. p. 610. According to Dr. Ledwich, St. Senanus was no less a personage than the river Shannon; but O'Connor and other antiquarians deny this metamorphose indignantly. TAKE BACK THE VIRGIN PAGE. WRITTEN ON RETURNING A BLANK BOOK. TAKE back the virgin page, White and unwritten still; The leaf must fill. Yet let me keep the book; Haply, when from those eyes And as, o'er ocean far, So may the words I write THE LEGACY. WHEN in death I shall calm recline, To sully a heart so brilliant and light; When the light of my song is o'er, Where weary travellers love to call.1 Keep this cup, which is now o'erflowing, On lips that beauty hath seldom bless'd. To her he adores shall bathe its brim, And hallow each drop that foams for him. 'In every house was one or two harps, free to all travellers, who were the more caressed the more they excelled in music.'-O'Halloran. HOW OFT HAS THE BENSHEE CRIED. How oft has the Benshee cried! We're fallen upon gloomy days!1 Every bright name that shed Dark falls the tear of him who mourneth Quench'd are our beacon lights- So long shall Erin's pride Tell how they lived and died. WE MAY ROAM THROUGH THIS WORLD. WE may roam through this world, like a child at a feast, But if hearts that feel, and eyes that smile, Are the dearest gifts that Heaven supplies, We never need leave our own green isle, For sensitive hearts, and for sun-bright eyes. Then remember, wherever your goblet is crown'd, Through this world, whether eastward or westward you roam, I have endeavoured here, without losing that Irish character which it is my object to preserve throughout this work, to allude to the sad and ominous fatality by which England has been deprived of so many great and good men at a moment when she most requires all the aids of talent and integrity. Lord Nelson before, is the title given to a celebrated Irish hero in a poem by O'Gnive, the bard of O'Neill, which is quoted in the Philosophical Survey of the South of Ireland,' page 433:-* Con, of the hundred fights, sleep in thy grass-grown tomb, and upbraid not our defeats with thy victories!' 3 This designation, which has been applied to Fox, "ultimus Romanorum." In England, the garden of Beauty is kept That the garden's but carelessly watch'd after all. Then remember, wherever your goblet is crown'd, Through this world, whether eastward or westward you roam, When a cup to the smile of dear woman goes round, Oh! remember the smile that adorns her at home. In France, when the heart of a woman sets sail Love seldom goes far in a vessel so frail, But just pilots her off, and then bids her good-bye. While the daughters of Erin keep the boy, Ever smiling beside his faithful oar, Through billows of woe and beams of joy, The same as he look'd when he left the shore. Then, remember, wherever your goblet is crown'd, Through this world, whether eastward or westward you roam, When a cup to the smile of dear woman goes round, Oh! remember the smile that adorns her at home. EVELEEN'S BOWER Он! weep for the hour When to Eveleen's bower The Lord of the Valley with false vows came : From the heavens that night, And wept behind the clouds o'er the maiden's shame. The clouds pass'd soon And heaven smiled again with her vestal flame; When the clouds shall pass away, Which that dark hour left on Eveleen's fame. The white snow lay On the narrow pathway When the Lord of the Valley cross'd over the moor On the white snow's tint Show'd the track of his footsteps to Eveleen's door. |