FLY NOT YET.

FLY not yet, 't is just the hour,
When pleasure, like the midnight flower
That scorns the eye of vulgar light,
Begins to bloom for sons of night,

And maids who love the moon.

'T was but to bless these hours of shade
That beauty and the moon were made;
'T is then their soft attractions glowing
Set the tides and goblets flowing.

Oh! stay, - Oh! stay,
Joy so seldom weaves a chain
Like this to-night, that oh, 't is pain
To break its links so soon.

On she went and her maiden smile

In safety lighted her round the green isle;

And blest for ever is she who relied
Upon Erin's honor, and Erin's pride.

1 "In the twenty-eighth year of the reign of Henry VIII. an Act was made respecting the habits, and dress in general, of the Irish, whereby all persons were restrained from being shorn or shaven above the ears, or from wearing Glibbes, or Coulins (long locks), on their heads, or hair on their upper lip, called Crommeal. On this occasion a song was written by one of our bards, in which an Irish virgin is made to give the preference to her dear Coulin (or the youth with the flowing locks) to all strangers (by which the English were meant), or those who wore their habits. Of this song, the air alone has reached Walker's us, and is universally admired."

"Historical Memoirs of Irish Bards," p. 134. Mr. Walker informs us also, that, about the same period, there were some harsh measures taken against the Irish Minstrels.

2 This ballad is founded upon the following anecdote: "The people were inspired with such a spirit of honor, virtue, and religion, by the great example of Brien, and by his excellent administration, that, as a proof of it, we are informed that a young lady of great beauty, adorned with jewels and a costly dress, undertook a jour

AS A BEAM O'ER THE FACE OF
THE WATERS MAY GLOW.
As a beam o'er the face of the waters may
glow

While the tide runs in darkness and coldness below,

So the cheek may be tinged with a warm sunny smile,

Though the cold heart to ruin runs darkly the while.

One fatal remembrance, one sorrow that throws

Its bleak shade alike o'er our joys and

our woes,

To which life nothing darker or brighter can bring

For which joy has no balm and affliction no sting

Oh! this thought in the midst of enjoyment will stay,

Like a dead, leafless branch in the summer's bright ray;

The beams of the warm sun play round it in vain,

It may smile in his light, but it blooms not again.

THE MEETING OF THE WATERS.3 THERE is not in the wide world a valley

So sweet

4

As that vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet; Oh! the last rays of feeling and life must depart,

Ere the bloom of that valley shall fade from my heart.

ney alone, from one end of the kingdom to the other, with a wand only in her hand, at the top of which was a ring of exceeding great value: and such an impression had the laws and government of this Monarch made on the minds of all the people, that no attempt was made upon her honor, nor was she robbed of her clothes or jewels." Warner's "History of Ireland,"

vol. i. book x.

3 "The Meeting of the Waters" forms a part of that beautiful scenery which lies between Rathdrum and Arklow, in the county of Wicklow, and these lines were suggested by a visit to this romantic spot, in the summer of the year 1807.

4 The rivers Avon and Avoca.

When the light of my song is o'er,

Then take my harp to your ancient hall;

Hang it up at that friendly door,

Where weary travellers love to call.1 Then if some bard, who roams forsaken, Revive its soft note in passing along, Oh! let one thought of its master waken Your warmest smile for the child of song.

1 "In every house was one or two harps, free to all travellers, who were the more caressed, the more they excelled in music." — O'Halloran,