As trav'lers oft look back at eve,
When eastward darkly going,
To gaze upon that light they leave

--

Still faint behind them glowing, —
So, when the close of pleasure's day
To gloom hath near consign'd us,
We turn to catch one fading ray
Of joy that's left behind us.

I SAW FROM THE BEACH.

SAW from the beach, when the morning was shining A bark o'er the waters move gloriously on;

I came when the sun o'er that beach was declining, The bark was still there, but the waters were gone.

And such is the fate of our life's early promise,

So passing the spring-tide of joy we have known; Each wave, that we danced on at morning, ebbs from us, And leaves us, at eve, on the bleak shore alone.

Ne'er tell me of glories, serenely adorning

The close of our day, the calın eve of our night, Give me back, give me back the wild freshness of

Morning,

Her clouds and her tears are worth Evening's best

light.

IN THE MORNING OF LIFE.

In the morning of life, when its cares are unknown, And its pleasures in all their new lustre begin, When we live in a bright-beaming world of our own, And the light that surrounds us is all from within; Oh 't is not. believe me, in that happy time

We can love, as in hours of less transport we may; Of our smiles, of our hopes, 't is the gay sunny prime, But affection is truest when these fade away.

When we see the first glory of youth pass us by,
Like a leaf on the stream that will never return;
When our cup, which had sparkled with pleasure so high,
First tastes of the other, the dark-flowing urn;
Then, then is the time when affection holds sway
With a depth and a tenderness joy never knew;
Love, nursed among pleasures, is faithless as they,
But the Love born of Sorrow, like Sorrow, is true.

In climes full of sunshine, though splendid the flowers, Their sighs have no freshness, their odor no worth; "T is the cloud and the mist of our own Isle of showers, That call the rien spirit of fragrancy forth.

So it is not mid splendor, prosperity, mirth,

That the depth of Love's generous spirit appears; To the sunshine of smiles it may first owe its birth, But the soul of its sweetness is drawn out by tears.

WHERE IS THE SLAVE.

OH, where's the slave so lowly,
Condemn'd to chains unholy,
Who, could he burst

His bonds at first,

Would pine beneath them slowly? What soul, whose wrongs degrade it, Would wait till time decay'd it, When thus its wing

At once may spring

To the throne of Him who made it?

Farewell, Erin, - farewell, all,

Who live to weep our fall!

Less dear the laurel growing,
Alive, untouch'd and blowing,
Than that, whose braid
Is pluck'd to shade

The brows with victory glowing.
We tread the land that bore us,
Her green flag glitters o'er us,
The friends we've tried

WREATH THE BOWL

WREATH the bowl

With flowers of soul,
The brightest Wit can find us;
We'll take a flight

Tow'rds heaven to-night,
And leave dull earth behind us.

Should Love amid

The wreaths be hid,

That Joy, th' enchanter, brings us, No danger fear,

While wine is near,

We'll drown him if he stings us;

Then, wreath the bowl

With flowers of soul,
The brightest Wit can find us:
We'll take a flight

Tow'rds heaven to-night,

And leave dull earth behind us.

"T was nectar fed

Of old, 't is said,

Their Junos, Joves, Apollos;

And man may brew

His nectar too,

The rich receipt 's as follows

Take wine like this,

Let looks of bliss

Around it well be blended,

Then bring Wit's beam
To warm the stream,

And there's your nectar, splendid
So wreath the bowl

With flowers of soul,

The brightest Wit can find us;
We'll take a flight

Tow'rds heaven to-right,

And leave dull earth behind us.

Say, why did Time,
His glass sublime,
Fill up with sands unsightly,

When wine, he knew,

Runs brisker through,

And sparkles far more brightly?

Oh, lend it us,

And, smiling thus,

The glass in two we'll sever,
Make pleasure glide

In double tide,

And fill both ends forever!

Then wreath the bowl

With flowers of soul,
The brightest Wit can find us
We'll take a flight

Tow'rds heaven to-night,

And leave dull earth behind us.