In silence they reach'd over mountain and moor,
To a heath, where the oak-tree grew lonely and

6

hoar:

'Now here let us place the grey stone of her cairn

Why speak ye no word!'-said Glenara the stern.

And tell me, I charge you! ye clan of my spouse, Why fold ye your mantles, why cloud ye your

brows?'

So spake the rude chieftain : -no answer is made, But each mantle unfolding a dagger display'd.

. I dreamt of my lady, I dreamt of her shroud,' Cried a voice from the kinsmen, all wrathful and loud;

'And empty that shroud, and that coffin did seem: 'Glenara! Glenara! now read me my dream!'

O! pale grew the cheek of that chieftain, I ween, When the shroud was unclosed, and no lady was seen;

When a voice from the kinsmen spoke louder in

scorn,

'Twas the youth who had loved the fair Ellen of Lorn:

I dreamt of my lady, I dreamt of her grief, 'I dreamt that her lord was a barbarous chief: • On a rock of the ocean fair Ellen did seem; 'Glenara! Glenara! now read me my dream!'

In dust, low the traitor has knelt to the ground, And the desert reveal'd where his lady was found; From a rock of the ocean that beauty is borne,— Now joy to the house of fair Ellen of Lorn!

EXILE OF ERIN.

THERE came to the beach a poor Exile of Erin,

The dew on his thin robe was heavy and chill: For his country he sigh'd, when at twilight repair

ing

To wander alone by the wind-beaten hill. But the day-star attracted his eye's sad devotion, For it rose o'er his own native isle of the ocean, Where once in the fire of his youthful emotion, He sang the bold anthem of Erin go bragh.

Sad is my fate! said the heart-broken stranger,
The wild deer and wolf to a covert can flee;
But I have no refuge from famine and danger
A home and a country remain not to me.

Never again, in the green sunny bowers,

Where

my forefathers lived, shall I spend the sweet

hours,

Or cover my harp with the wild-woven flowers,

And strike to the numbers of Erin go bragh!

Erin, my country! though sad and forsaken!

In dreams I revisit thy sea-beaten shore;

But, alas! in a far foreign land I awaken,

And sigh for the friends who can meet me no

more!

Oh cruel fate! wilt thou never replace me

In a mansion of peace-where no perils can chase

me?

Never again shall my brothers embrace me?

They died to defend me, or live to deplore!

Where is my cabin door, fast by the wild wood?
Sisters and sire! did ye weep for its fall?
Where is the mother that look d on my childhood?

And where is the bosom-friend, dearer than all?

Oh! my sad heart! long abandon'd by pleasure, Why did it doat on a fast-fading treasure?

Tears, like the rain-drop, may fall without measure But rapture and beauty they cannot recall.

Yet all its sad recollection suppressing,

One dying wish my lone bosom can draw : Erin! an exile bequeaths thee his blessing!

Land of my forefathers! Erin go bragh!

Buried and cold, when my heart stills her motion, Green be thy fields,-sweetest isle of the ocean! And thy harp-striking bards sing aloud with devotion,

Erin mavournin-Erin go bragh !a

a Ireland my darling,-Ireland for ever.

VOL. II.

F