And thus, should woman's heart and looks
At noon be cold as winter brooks,
Nor kindle till the night, returning,

Brings their genial hour for burning.
Oh! stay,-Oh! stay,

When did morning ever break,

And find such beaming eyes awake
As those that sparkle here?

OH! THINK NOT MY SPIRITS ARE ALWAYS AS LIGHT.

OH! think not my spirits are always as light,

And as free from a pang as they seem to you now; Nor expect that the heart-beaming smile of to-night Will return with to-morrow to brighten my brow. 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 awhile —

May 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 intertwin'd;

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 lov'd the fondest, the purest,

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

Is happy indeed if 't was never deceiv'd.

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 wreathes,
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.t

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.

"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 us, and is universally admired.". Walker's 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. This ballad is founded upon the following anecdote: people were inspired with such a spirit of honour, 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,

"The

"Lady! dost thou not fear to stray,

"So lone and lovely through this bleak way? "Are Erin's sons so good or so cold,

"As not to be tempted by woman or gold?"

"Sir Knight! I feel not the least alarm,
"No son of Erin will offer me harm:-
:-

"For though they love woman and golden store, "Sir Knight! they love honour and virtue more!"

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 honour and Erin's pride.

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 check may be ting'd with a warm sunny smile, Though the cold heart to ruin runs darkly the while.

undertook a journey 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 honour, nor was she robbed of her clothes or jewels." -Warner's History of Ireland, vol. i. book x.

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.*

THERE is not in the wide world a valley so sweet 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.

Yet it was not that nature had shed o'er the scene Her purest of crystal and brightest of green;

'Twas not her soft magic of streamlet or hill,

Oh! no,

- it was something more exquisite still.

*"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.

†The rivers Avon and Avoca.