We're fall'n upon gloomy days!

Star after star decays,

Every bright name, that shed
Light o'er the land, is fled.

Dark falls the tear of him who mourneth
Lost joy, or hope that ne'er returneth;

But brightly flows the tear,
Wept o'er a hero's bier.

Quench'd are our beacon lightsThou, of the Hundred Fights! Thou, on whose burning tongue Truth, peace, and freedom hung! Both mute, but long as valor shineth, Or mercy's soul at war repineth,

So long shall Erin's pride

Tell how they lived and died.

Love seldom goes far in a vessel so frail,

But just pilots her off, and then bids her good-by. While the daughters of Erin keep the boy,

Ever smiling beside his faithful oar, Through billows of woe, and beams of joy, The same as he look'd when he left the shore. Then remember, wherever your goblet is crown'd, Thro' this world, whether eastward or westward

you roam,

When a cup to the smile of dear woman goes round, Oh! remember the smile that adorns her at home

WE MAY ROAM THROUGH THIS WORLD.

WE may roam through this world, like a child at a feast,

EVELEEN'S BOWER.

Оn! weep for the hour,

When to Eveleen's bower

The Lord of the Valley with false vows came;
The moon hid her light

From the heavens that night,

And wept behind her clouds o'er the maiden's shame.

The clouds pass'd soon From the chaste cold moon,

rest;

In England, the garden of Beauty is kept

By a dragon of prudery placed within call; But so oft this unamiable dragon has slept, That the garden's but carelessly watch'd after all. Oh! they want the wild sweet-briery fence,

Which round the flowers of Erin dwells. Which warns the touch, while winning the sense, Nor charms us least when it most repels. Then remember, wherever your goblet is crown'd, Thro' this world, whether eastward or westward you roam,

When a cup to the smile of dear woman goes round, Oh! remember the smile that adorns her at home.

In France, when the heart of a woman sets sail, On the ocean of wedlock its fortune to try,

But none will see the day,

When the clouds shall pass away,

Which that dark hour left upon Eveleen's fame

The white snow lay

On the narrow path-way,

When the Lord of the Valley cross'd over the moor
And many a deep print
On the white snow's tint

Show'd the track of his footstep to Eveleen's door.

The next sun's ray Soon melted away

Every trace on the path where the false Lord came But there's a light above

Which alone can remove That stain upon the snow of fair Eveleen's fame.

LET ERIN REMEMBER THE DAYS OF OLD

LET Erin remember the days of old,

Ere her faithless sons betray'd her; When Malachi wore the collar of gold," Which he won from her proud invader, When her kings, with standard of green unfurl'd,

Led the Red-Branch Knights to danger;12Ere the emerald gem of the western world Was set in the crown of a stranger.

On Lough Neagh's bank, as the fisherman strays,

When the clear cold eve's declining,

He sees the round towers of other days
In the wave beneath him shining;
Thus shall memory often, in dreams sublime,
Catch a glimpse of the days that are over;
Thus, sighing, look through the waves of time
For the long-faded glories they cover.13

THE SONG OF FIONNUALA."

SILENT, oh Moyle, be the roar of thy water,
Break not, ye breezes, your chain of repose,
While, murmuring mournfully, Lir's lonely daugh-

ter

Tells to the night-star her tale of woes. When shall the swan, her death-note singing, Sleep with wings in darkness furl'd? ́ When will heaven, its sweet bell ringing,

Call my spirit from this stormy world?

Sadly, oh Moyle, to thy winter-wave weeping,

Fate bids me languish long ages away; Yet still in her darkness doth Erin lie sleeping, Still doth the pure light its dawning delay. When will that day-star, mildly springing, Warm our isle with peace and love? When will heaven, its sweet bell ringing, Call my spirit to the fields above?

COME, SEND ROUND THE WINE.

COME, send round the wine, and leave points of belief

To simpleton sages, and reasoning fools; This moment's a flower too fair and brief,

SUBLIME WAS THE WARNING.

SUBLIME was the warning that Liberty spoke,
And grand was the moment when Spaniards awoke
Into life and revenge from the conqueror's chain.
Oh, Liberty! let not this spirit have rest,
Till it move, like a breeze, o'er the waves of the
west-

Give the light of your look to each sorrowing spot,
Nor, oh, be the Shamrock of Erin forgot

While you add to your garland the Olive of Spain!

If the fame of our fathers, bequeath'd with their rights,

Give to country its charm, and to home its delights,
If deceit be a wound, and suspicion a stain,
Then, ye men of Iberia, our cause is the same!
And oh! may his tomb want a tear and a name,
Who would ask for a nobler, a holier death,
Than to turn his last sigh into victory's breath,

For the Shamrock of Erin and Olive of Spain!

schools.

Your glass may be purple, and mine may be blue, But while they are fill'd from the same bright bowl,

The fool who would quarrel for difference of hue, Deserves not the comfort they shed o'er the soul.

Shall I ask the brave soldier, who fights by my side In the cause of mankind, if our creeds agree? Shall I give up the friend I have valued and tried, If he kneel not before the same altar with me? From the heretic girl of my soul should I fly,

To seek somewhere else a more orthodox kiss? No perish the hearts, and the laws that try Truth, valor, or love, by a standard like this!

While, far from the footstep of coward or slave The young spirit of Freedom shall shelter their grave

Beneath Shamrocks of Erin and Olives of Spain!

BELIEVE ME, IF ALL THOSE ENDEARING YOUNG CHARMS.

BELIEVE me, if all those endearing young charms,
Which I gaze on so fondly to-day,
Were to change by to-morrow, and fleet in my arms,
Like fairy-gifts fading away,