Thus when the lamp that lighted And looks round in fear and doubt. By cloudless starlight on he treads, OH THE SHAMROCK. THROUGH Erin's Isle, To sport awhile, As Love and Valor wander'd, With Wit, the sprite, A thousand arrows squander'd. Where'er they pass, A triple grass Shoots up, with dew-drops streaming, As softly green As eineralds seen Through purest crystal gleaming. Oh the Shamrock, the green, immortal Shainrock! Chosen leaf, Of Bard and Chief, Old Erin's native Shamrock! Says Valor, "See They spring for me, Those leafy gems of morning!", Says Love, "No, no, For me they grow, My fragrant path adorning." But Wit perceives The triple leaves, And cries, "Oh! do not sever Three godlike friends, Love, Valor, Wit, for ever!" Oh the Shamrock, the green, immortal Shamrock! Chosen leaf Of Bard and Chief, Old Erin's native Shamrock! So firmly fond May last the bond They wove that morn together, And ne'er may fall One drop of gall On Wit's celestial feather. May Love, as twine His flowers divine, Of thorny falsehood weed 'em; May Valor ne'er His standard rear Against the cause of Freedom! Oh the Shamrock, the green, iminortal Shamrock Chosen leaf Of Bard and Chief, Old Erin's native Shamrock FAREWELL! BUT WHENEVER YOU FAREWELL.- but whenever you welcome the hour, And still on that evening, when pleasure fills up Let Fate do her worst, there are relics of joy, Bright dreams of the past, which she cannot destroy, Which come in the night-time of sorrow and care, And bring back the features that joy used to wear. Long, long be my heart with such memories fill'd! Like the vase, in which roses have once been distill'dYou may break, you may shatter the vase, if you will, But the scent of the roses will hang round it still. T IS THE LAST ROSE OF SUMMER "T is the last rose of summer Left blooming alone; All her lovely companions To reflect back her blushes, I'll not leave thee, thou lone one. Go, sleep thou with them. Thus kindly I scatter Thy leaves o'er the bed, So soon may I follow, When friendships decay, The gems drop away. And fond ones are flown, Oh! who would inhabit This bleak world alone! HAS SORROW THY YOUNG DAYS HAS sorrow thy young days shaded, Has love to that soul, so tender, Allured by the gleam that shone, Has Hope, like the bird in the story, |