No-life is a waste of wearisome hours,

Which seldom the rose of enjoyment adorns; And the heart that is soonest awake to the flowers Is always the first to be touch'd by the thorns. But send round the bowl, and be happy awhileMay we never meet worse, in our pilgrimage here, Than the tear that enjoyment may gild with a smile, And the smile that compassion can turn to a tear.

The thread of our life would be dark, Heaven knows!

If it were not with friendship and love intertwined;

And I care not how soon I may sink to repose, When these blessings shall cease to be dear to my mind.

But they who have loved the fondest, the purest,

Too often have wept o'er the dream they believed; And the heart that has slumber'd in friendship securest,

Is happy indeed if 'twas never deceived. But send round the bowl; while a relic of truth Is in man or in woman, this prayer shall be mine,

That the sunshine of love may illumine our youth And the moonlight of friendship console our decline.

THO THE LAST GLIMPSE OF ERIN WITH
SORROW I SEE.

THO' the last glimpse of Erin with sorrow I see,
Yet wherever thou art shall seem Erin to me;
In exile thy bosom shall still be my home,
And thine eyes make my climate wherever we roam.

To the gloom of some desert or cold rocky shore,
Where the eye of the stranger can haunt us no

more,

I will fly with my Coulin, and think the rough wind Less rude than the foes we leave frowning behind.

And I'll gaze on thy gold hair as graceful it wreaths,

And hang o'er thy soft harp, as wildly it breathes; Nor dread that the cold-hearted Saxon will tear One chord from that harp, or one lock from that hair.

RICH 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
Her sparkling gems, or snow-white wand.