Erin, thy silent tear never shall cease,

Erin, thy languid smile ne'er shall increase,
Till, like the rainbow's light,

Thy various tints unite,
And form in heaven's sight
One arch of peace!

THE HARP THAT ONCE THROUGH TARA'S HALLS.

THE harp that once through Tara's halls The soul of music shed,

Now hangs as mute on Tara's walls,

As if that soul were fled.

So sleeps the pride of former days,

So glory's thrill is o'er,

And hearts, that once beat high for praise,
Now feel that pulse no more.

No more to chiefs and ladies bright
The harp of Tara swells;

The chord alone, that breaks at night,

Its tale of ruin tells.

Thus Freedom now so seldom wakes,

The only throb she gives,

Is when some heart indignant breaks,
To show that still she lives.

WAR SONG

REMEMBER THE GLORIES OF BRIEN THE BRAVE.

REMEMBER the glories of Brien the brave,
Tho' the days of the hero are o'er;
Tho' lost to Mononia, and cold in the grave,
He returns to Kinkora no more.

That star of the field, which so often hath pour d
Its beam on the battle, is set;

But enough of its glory remains on each sword,
To light us to victory yet.

Mononia! when Nature embellish'd the tint
Of thy fields, and thy mountains so fair,
Did she ever intend that a tyrant should print
The footstep of slavery there?

No! Freedom, whose smile we shall never resign,
Go, tell our invaders, the Danes,

That 't is sweeter to bleed for an age at thy shrine,
Than to sleep but a moment in chains.

Forget not our wounded companions, who stood
In the day of distress by our side;

While the moss of the valley grew red with their blood
They stirr'd not, but conquer'd and died.

That sun which now blesses our arms with his light, Saw them fall upon Ossory's plain;

Oh! let him not blush, when he leaves us to-night,
To find that they fell there in vain.

OH! BREATHE NOT HIS NAME

On! breathe not his name. let it sleep in the shade,
Where cold and unhonored his relics are laid:
Sad, silent, and dark, be the tears that we shed,
As the night-dew that falls on the grass o'er his head.

But the night-dew that falls, though in silence it weeps Shall brighten with verdure the grave where he sleeps And the tear that we shed, though in secret it rolls, Shall long keep his memory green in our souls.

RICII AND RARE WERE THE GEMS SHE WORE.

RICH and rare were the gems she wore,

And a bright gold ring on her wand she bore;

But oh! her beauty was far beyond

ller sparkling gems, or snow-white wand.

"Lady! dost thou not fear to stray,

So lone and lovely through this bleak way?
Are Erin's sons so good or so cold,

As not to be tempted by woman or gold?"

'Sir Knight! I feel not the least alarmı,
No son of Erin will offer me harm:

For though they love woman and golden store,
Sir Knight! they love honor and virtue more!"

On she went, and her maiden smile

In safety lighted her round the Green Isle,
And blest for ever is she who relied
Upon Erin's honor 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 runs in darkness and co.aness below, So the cheek may be tinged with a warm sunny smile, Though the cold heart to ruin runs darkly the while

One fatal remembrance, one sorrow that throws
Its bleak shade alike o'er our joys and our woes,
To which are notning darker or brighter can bring
For which joy has no balın and affliction no sting —

Oh! this thought in the midst of enjoyment will stay,
Like a dead, leafless branch in the summer's bright ray
The beams of the warm sun play round it in vain,
It may smile in its light, but it bloors not again.

TAKE BACK THE VIRGIN PAGE

WRITTEN ON RETURNING A BLANK BOOK.

TAKE back the virgin page,

White and unwritten still;
Some hand, more calm and sage
The leaf must fill.

Thoughts come, as pure as light,

Pure as even you require:
But, oh! each word I write

Love turns to ire.

Yet let me keep the book.
Oft shall my heart renew,
When on its leaves I look,
Dear thoughts of you.
Like you, 't is fair and bright,
Like you too bright and fair

To let wild passion write
One wrong wish there.

Haply, when from those eyes
Far, far away I roam,
Should calmer thoughts arise
Tow'rds you and home;
Fancy may trace some line,

Worthy those eyes to meet,
Thoughts that not burn, but shine,
Pure, calm, and sweet.