How has it vanished!-gone the anxious strife
Of those who toiled for wealth or for renown,
The honours and delights of men, the frown
Or smile of mortals-even life

With all its cares, how futile will it seem,
Passed like the swift departing of a dream!

Yes, shall the fair creation, fields and flowers, Winter and Summer, Spring and Autumn, cease; Nor night nor day enwreath their circling hours;

Nor sun awake the morn, nor moon increase; Nor longer shall those twinkling watch-fires keep Their nightly guard o'er hill and vale and deep.

Then will the life of man indeed begin :
Here life is but a short and wintry day ;
Then will the soul her mighty powers display,
Surpassing all she ever yet hath been,

As night is distanced by the noontide day.

That certain, never-ending state should rest
Before us ever-that should be the end,
The first of all our thoughts-to that we tend ;
And we shall then be cursed or fully blest.
Thankful for all that gilds our lot to-day,

Oh! let us strive to live, when TIME shall pass away.

THE SONG OF THE LITTLE BIRD.

A legend of the South of Ireland.

With some Remarks on Irish Holy Wells.

BY T. CROFTON CROKER.

THE chief amusement of an excursion which I recently made through the South of Ireland, was collecting from the mouths of the peasantry various legendary tales; and I found, on more than one occasion, that the most favourable opportunity afforded me of doing so, was at a kind of religious meeting termed a pattern.

This meeting was generally held in the vicinity of well which had been dedicated to a patron saint, from whence probably originated the name. The belief that the waters of these holy wells possess virtues, which at certain seasons have miraculous operation, collects around them the most superstitious of the Irish peasantry, in the fond hope of receiving relief for their infirmities. The fifth chapter of St. John may be referred to in proof of the antiquity of the custom; and, no doubt, in the early ages of Christianity, at these natural fonts, converts received the first rites of the church, which excited a feeling of pious regard towards the spot.

The salutary exercise of a pilgrimage to such places of reputed sanctity-often, the medicinal property of the well itself, and, above all, the faith placed in the visit— effect cures which tend to keep alive the traditionary veneration for holy wells. If one in every hundred devotees receives any benefit, the miracle is soon noised abroad, with the usual exaggeration of oral transmission.

a

The annexed sketch exhibits the general character of the commencement of a pattern. As such assemblies are composed of those who believe in the performance of miracles through all ages of the world, legends of all descriptions, but more particularly those of different saints, are told more freely than under other circumstances, or in other situations. From several so related to me, I select the following, chiefly on account of the extreme simplicity of its diction. Indeed, such was the charm of this simplicity of style over me, that, at the time of hearing, I felt little inclined to question the truth of so marvellous à tale. The scenery around me may have had, and probably had, ts influence. It was a beautiful summer's, evening, and, weary with walking, I had sat down to rest upon a grassy bank, close to a holy well. I felt refreshed at the sight of the clear cold water, through which pebbles glistened, and sparks of silvery air shot upwards: in short, I was in the temper to be pleased. An old woman had concluded her prayers, and was about to depart, when I entered into conversation with her, and I have written the very words in which she related to me the legend of the Song of the Little Bird.