It seem'd as if ev'ry sweet note, that died here,
Was again brought to life in some airier sphere,
Some heav'n in those hills, where the soul of the
strain

That had ceased upon earth was awaking again!

Oh forgive, if, while listening to music, whose breath Seem'd to circle his name with a charm against death,

He should feel a proud Spirit within him proclaim, "Even so shalt thou live in the echoes of Fame:

"Even so, tho' thy memory should now die away, ""Twill be caught up again in some happier day, "And the hearts and the voices of Erin prolong, “Through the answering Future, thy name and thy song."

FAIREST! PUT ON AWHILE.

FAIREST! put on awhile

These pinions of light I bring thee, And o'er thy own green isle

In fancy let me wing thee.

Never did Ariel's plume,
At golden sunset hover

O'er scenes so full of bloom,
As I shall waft thee over.

Fields, where the Spring delays
And fearlessly meets the ardour

Of the warm Summer's gaze,

With only her tears to guard her. Rocks, through myrtle boughs

In grace majestic frowning;

Like some bold warrior's brows

That Love hath just been crowning.

Islets, so freshly fair,

That never hath bird come nigh them,
But from his course thro' air

He hath been won down by them*;
Types, sweet maid, of thee,

Whose look, whose blush inviting,
Never did Love yet see

From Heav'n, without alighting.

Lakes, where the pearl lies hid†,

And caves, where the gem is sleeping,

Bright as the tears thy lid

Lets fall in lonely weeping.

Glens, where Ocean comes,

To 'scape the wild wind's rancour,

* In describing the Skeligs (islands of the Barony of Forth), Dr. Keating says, "There is a certain attractive virtue in the soil which draws down all the birds that attempt to fly over it, and obliges them to light upon the rock."

"Nennius, a British writer of the ninth century, mentions the abundance of pearls in Ireland. Their princes, he says, hung them behind their ears: and this we find confirmed by a present made A. C. 1094, by Gilbert Bishop of Limerick, to Anselm, Archbishop of Canterbury, of a considerable quantity of Irish pearls.". O'Halloran.

Glengariff.

And Harbours, worthiest homes

Where Freedom's fleet can anchor.

Then, if, while scenes so grand,

So beautiful, shine before thee,

Pride for thy own dear land

Should haply be stealing o'er thee,

Oh, let grief come first,

O'er pride itself victorious

Thinking how man hath curst

What Heaven had made so glorious!

QUICK! WE HAVE BUT A SECOND.

QUICK! We have but a second,

Fill round the cup, while you may;
For Time, the churl, hath beckon'd,
And we must away, away!
Grasp the pleasure that's flying,
For oh, not Orpheus' strain
Could keep sweet hours from dying,
Or charm them to life again.

Then, quick! we have but a second,
Fill round the cup, while you may;
For Time, the churl, hath beckon'd,
And we must away, away!

See the glass, how it flushes,

Like some young Hebe's lip, And half meets thine, and blushes

That thou shouldst delay to sip.