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She woo'd me to temples, while thou layest hid in caves,
Losing all that made life dear,
In days of boyhood, meet our ear,
Wakening thoughts that long have slept !
In faded eyes that long have wept.
Beds of oriental flowers,
That once was heard in happier hours ;
Though the flowers have sunk in death ;
Its memory lives in Music's breath.
Language fades before thy spell !
When thou canst breathe her soul so weli?
Love's are even more false than they;
Can sweetly soothe, and not betray :
IT IS NOT THE TEAR AT THIS MOMENT SHED.
When the cold turf has just been laid o'er him,
Or how deep in our hearts we deplore him.
! Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty.'-St. Paul, 2 Corinthians, iii. 17. 2 These lines were occasioned by the loss of a very near and dear relative, who died lately at Madeira
Oh! my life on your faith! were you summon'd this minute,
You'd cast every bitter remembrance away, And show what the arm of old Erin has in it,
When roused by the foe, on her Prince's Day.
He loves the Green Isle, and his love is recorded
In hearts which have suffered too much to forget : And hope shall be crown'd, and attachment rewarded, And Erin's gay jubilee shine out yet.
The gem may be broke
By many a stroke,
Each fragment will cast
A light to the last,
There's a lustre within thee that ne'er will decay ;
And now smiles at all pain on the Prince's Day.
WEEP ON, WEEP ON.
Your dreams of pride are o'er ;
And you are men no more.
The sage's tongue hath waru'd in vain ;--
It never lights again!
Weep on-perhaps in after days,
They'll learn to love your name;
That long hath slept in blame.
Where rest at length the lord and slave,
• 'Twas fate,' they'll say, 'a wayward fate,
Your web of discord wove;
You never join'd in love.
And man profaned what God had given,
Where others knelt to Heaven.'
LESBIA HATH A BEAMING EYE.
But no one knows for whom it beameth;
But what they aim at no one dreameth.
My Nora's lid that seldom rises ;
O my Nora Creina, dear,
In many eyes,
But all so close the nymph hath laced it,
Presumes to stay where Nature placed it.
That floats as wild as mountain breezes,
Yes, my Nora Creina, dear,