^ f- '^.CTJt-^ 
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 I 
 
 
 ;3
 
 r
 
 POEMS 
 
 i( 
 
 Eva/' of "The Nation." 
 
 FIRST EDITION. 
 
 Revised and Corkected bt the Authoe. 
 
 SAN FRANCISCO: 
 Published and Printed by P. J. Thomab, 
 
 505 Clay Street. 
 1877.
 
 tercd accordicg to Act of Conerces, in tho year 1S7T, by V. J. Thomas, 
 ia th5 crs 'o of tho Librarian of Congress, at 'Washington.
 
 TO 
 
 THE MEMORY 
 
 or 
 
 JOHN MITCHEL AND JOHN MARTIN, 
 
 "FELONS" OF '48, 
 THESE POEMS 
 
 <Associa,tecl -witli tiio causo for -wliicli tliey s\aflered.). 
 
 Are dedicated by their friend and compatriot, 
 
 EVA. 
 
 705778
 
 PUBLISHER'S PREFACE. 
 
 rPHE poems contained in this volume, which are now 
 J- for the tlrst time published in a collected form, were 
 originally contributed to the pages of the Dublin Nation 
 and other national journals. As they appeared chiefly 
 during the years 1846, '47 and '48, with the exception of 
 those few which were written in another country and under 
 different circumstances at a later period, they may be 
 regarded as portions of the history of one of the most 
 remarkable episodes in the life of the Irish nation. They 
 relate to that heroic but ill-fated struggle for the vindica- 
 tion of Ireland's right to all the liberties and prerogatives 
 of a free country, which was developed during these years 
 and which culminated in the imprisonment and exile of 
 the popular leaders and in the disarmament and repression 
 of the Irish peasantry. The poems vary in character, in 
 tone, in sentiment ; they run through the varied scale that 
 separates joy from sorrow. In that they resemble the 
 moods and dispositions of the race amid which they were 
 written and sung. They are, in short, the expression of 
 the writer's intense sympathy with the national movement 
 for freedom, the natural and irrepressible outcome of her 
 hopes and griefs as called forth by the varying fortunes of 
 her country's sacred cause. Although well nigh the life-
 
 \ I PfBLiSHER 3 PREFACE. 
 
 time of a generation has passed away since these poems 
 first appeared, it has been thought by the pubUsher that 
 they cannot have lost all interest, not alone for the Irish 
 people in whose behalf they were penned, but for all those 
 who can sympathize with a down-trodden race, and who 
 feel their bosoms animated with the holy love of liberty. 
 .\n Irish poet asks : 
 
 "Who fears to speak of "JS? 
 "Who blushes at the name ? 
 Wh' n cowards mock the jKitriot's fate, 
 "Who hangs his head for shame ?" 
 
 And, certainly, if it be craven \o blush for the wild and 
 daring " rising " of 1798, it is at least equal unmanliness 
 to sneer at the movement of 1848. It failed, of course, 
 for, in the forlorn situation of the Irish masses at that time, 
 success was, humanly speaking, impossible. It was not 
 iht^ first time in history, as we fear it will not be the last, 
 when the mailed hand of despotism could smite to the 
 earth a struggling people and perpetuate a tyranny. From 
 a military point of view, therefore, the revolutionary move- 
 ment was abortive — that must be confessed ; but, as the 
 protest of a nation against alien misgovernment, as a proud 
 declaration of unflinching allegiance to the cause of liberty, 
 it was most impressive and most successful. The world 
 will long admire the vigor of the orators ol" '48, the com- 
 mingled fire and pathos of the poets of '48, and the fidelity 
 and self-sacrifice of the people's leaders ; for these are the 
 tilings that can redeem a "lost cause " from oblivion and 
 make it immortal. Although the collection is, in the 
 main, a republication, the book contains many pieces of
 
 PUBLISHER S PREFACE. Vll 
 
 high merit which were never before printed, and which, 
 the publisher feels sure, will make the volume still more 
 acceptable. Indeed, the very first poem in the collection, 
 " A Chant to Our Beloved Dead,"' is a new one. The 
 poems of "Eva" should need little introduction to 
 men of Irish blood, either here or in the old land. It 
 is a grand old Celtic boast that they never forget those 
 who devote the heavenly gift of genius to the vindica- 
 tion of their name and fame or to the regaining of iheir 
 lost independence; and the publisher has every confi- 
 dence that his C04intrymen still cherish grateful and affec- 
 tionate remembrances of " Eva's " devotion to the cause of 
 their fatherland. He is, indeed, satisfied that they will 
 hail the appearance of this volume, modest and unpreten- 
 tious as it is, with a cordial greeting, and extend to it a 
 genuine cead milk failthe. He believes that, under God's 
 divine providence, the slavery of Ireland cannot be perpe- 
 tual; he believes in the ultimate triumph of the cause 
 sanctified by the sacrifices of O'Brien, Mitchel, Martin and 
 Meagher, and hallowed by the poetic genius of Davis, 
 Williams, " Eva," " Speranza," and so many others. In 
 the hope that this volume may serve in some degree to 
 preserve the faith in Irish freedom he presents it to the 
 public and to his fellow-countrymen, praying that the day 
 may soon come when, as God's bright sun climbs the green 
 hill-tops of Ireland, it will light up the homes and beam 
 upon the altars of a free people.
 
 CHANT 
 
 TO OUR BELOVED DEAD. 
 I. 
 
 OYE dead ! ye well-beloved dead, 
 Great souls, fond hearts that once were linked with 
 mine, 
 Athwart the gulf that yawns between us, dread, 
 
 I fling the longings that invite a sign, 
 A faint, faint shadow of your darling presence— > 
 
 A plaintive echo of your voices low, 
 Soma little gleam, some whispered word that lessens 
 The awful silence that the parted know. 
 
 II. 
 
 O ye dead ! ye wild-lamented dead, 
 
 Who draw me onward by the links of pain 
 To that strange, neutral gi-ound, o'ershadowed 
 
 Between two worlds that yet ajoart remain, 
 Is there no might in sorrow wildly yearning ? 
 
 Is there no magic in the strong " I will " — 
 In love that, ever throbbing, ever btirning, 
 
 Keeps lonely watch upon that pathway still ? 
 
 III. 
 
 O ye dead ! ye silent, shapeless dead. 
 
 Who will not — cannot force that granite wall, 
 
 Behind whose shade, impalpable and dread, 
 Ye hear not, see not those who wildly call.
 
 10 LAMENT FOR TIIOMAS DJ VIS. 
 
 The heavy, sullen air around you brooding 
 Will waft no sigh or murmur to yoiir ears ; 
 
 The changeless ebon darkness round you flooding 
 No ray can pierce from those sad earthly spheres. 
 
 IV. 
 
 ye dead ! ye well-r'emembered dead — 
 
 Remembered so that Death can never change 
 Th' impassion'd thoughts to you that once were wed. 
 
 But makes them ever towards you darkly range. 
 For me your eyes can ne'er look blank or hollow, 
 
 Your touch can chill not, nQi- your voices awe; 
 Along that mystic jjath I fain would follow, 
 
 Drawn onward by a secret spirit law. 
 
 LAMENT FOR THOMAS DAVIS. 
 
 I. 
 
 I MOURN thcG, Thomas Davis, dark, dark and wearily; 
 Oh, shut the light from out mine eyes, for I cannot bear to see; 
 I c amot look upon the earth and you no longer there : 
 'Tis now, and evermore will bo, as my heart is, cold and bare. 
 Thomas Davis ! Thomas Davis ! amtshla Klfmre machrec ! 
 My heart, my heart is pouring out black, bitter tears for thee. 
 
 ir. 
 
 Oh, how can I believe it? it can't bo as they say. 
 
 That all the gifts so near to Heaven are quenched within the clay; 
 
 It cannot be, it cannot be, that all the noble dower 
 
 Of Truth, and Love, and Genius high, on this earth no more has 
 
 power. 
 Thomas Davis ! Thomas Davis ! — is that a phantom name — 
 An empty, silent, churchyard word, so full of life and fame ?
 
 LAMEST FOR THOMAS DAVIS. U 
 
 III. 
 Oh, let me tliiuk ujion him ! Are all the thoughts of years, 
 So firm and bright around him twined, now lor ever steeped in 
 
 tears ? 
 And must we have but memories of all that ho has been, 
 Like Autumn's dry and withered leaves, that we saw so fresh and 
 
 green? 
 Thomas Davis! Thomas Davis! sure, sure it is not friie. 
 Oh, who, since first we heard your name, e'er thought of Death 
 
 and you ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 Bright sparks of gold are dancing upon the river's breast. 
 And soft and bright the sky appears as it lies in gentle rest. 
 The sun is slumbering warm and fair on fields so still and green 
 And j)roudly look the mountains down on the gentle, smiling 
 
 scene ; 
 Nought is changing, nought is changing; the soixnd of life 
 
 goes on. 
 There is no change, there is no change ; and, sure, he can't be 
 
 gone ! 
 
 V. 
 
 Ah, woe is me, on this sad day ! I know my tears are true. 
 Deep, deep within the change that's come, 'twas well, too well 
 
 I knew. 
 And you — oh, you, mavourneen oge ! — our glory and our trust, 
 Oh, who could ever dream such might would crumble into dust ? 
 Can W3 ever, can we ever mind Love or Hope again, 
 When brightest Hope, and truest Love, no more to us remain? 
 
 VI. 
 
 I see the hills of Ormond, the Slonnn's* pleasant shore: 
 I think how well you loved their sight, and you'll look on them 
 no more ! 
 
 * Shannon.
 
 12 THE PA-rniOT MOTHER. 
 
 You loved them -well, mavoumeen, every stream and mountain 
 
 blue ! 
 You loved them in j-our bosom's core, oh, and won't they 
 
 mourn for you? 
 "Won't they sorrow, won't they soitow, this sad and woful day, 
 And Thomas Davis lying low, within the darksome clay ! 
 
 VII. 
 
 And will your voice, oh, never, be heard where it hath poured, 
 Among the friends so fondly loved, the free and fearless word ? 
 And won't you see their banners wave, and hear their triamphs 
 
 swell, 
 "When they chase the foreign foe away from the land you loved so 
 
 well ? 
 Oh, the caoine, oh, the caoine, will mingle with the tide 
 Of loud-resounding triumph when we think of him who died ! 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Oh, why am I still able to pour my depth of woe ? 
 Oh, why am I not lying now where you are lying low ? 
 Embalmed in all yoiir noble deeds and thoughts so proud and 
 
 high. 
 Above your grave in misery we're left this day to lie — 
 As the green moss, as the green moss, from off the tree is torn, 
 Ho you were taken from our hearts, and we are left forlorn! 
 
 THE PATRIOT MOTHER. 
 
 A BALLAD OF '98, 
 
 U /"|OME, tell un the names of the rebelly crew 
 
 \j Who lifted the pike on the Curragh with you ; 
 Come, tell us their treason, and then you'll be free. 
 Or right quickly you'll swing from the high gallows tree."
 
 THE PATRIOT MO THE U. 13 
 
 I. 
 
 "Alanna! alannal* the shadow of shame 
 Has never yet fall'ii iipon one of your name, 
 And, oh, may the food from my bosom yon drew 
 In your veins turn to poison if you turn untrue. 
 
 II. 
 
 "The foul words, oh, let them not blacken your tongue, 
 That would prove to your friends and your country a wrong, 
 Or the curse of a mother, so bitter and dread. 
 With the wrath of the Lord — may they fall on your head ! 
 
 III. 
 
 " I have no one but you in the whole world wide, 
 
 Yet, fabc to your pledge, you'd ne'er stand at my side ; 
 
 If a traitor you lived, j^ou'd be farther away 
 
 From my heart, than if true, you were wrapped in the clay. 
 
 IV. 
 
 " Oh, deeper and darker the mourning would be 
 For your falsehood so base, than your death, proud and free- 
 Dearer, far dearer than ever to me. 
 My darling, you'll be on the brave gallows tree. 
 
 " 'Tis holy, agra, from the bravest and best — 
 
 Go ! go ! from my heart, and be joii:ed with the rest ; 
 
 Alamia machree ! alanna machree.'\ 
 
 Sure a ' stag't and a traitor you never will be." 
 
 VI. 
 
 There's no look of a traitor upon the young brow 
 That's raised to the tempters so haughtily now ; 
 No traitor e'er held up the firm head so high — 
 No traitor e'er showed such a proud, flashing eye. 
 
 * My child ! my child I t Child o£ my heart, t An informer.
 
 14 o LOTALTT. 
 
 Til. 
 
 On the bigh gallows tree ! on the brave gallows tree, 
 "Where smiled leaves and blossoms, his sad doom met he I 
 But it never bore blossom so pnre or so fair 
 As the heart of the martyr who hangs from it there ! 
 
 LOYALTY. 
 
 I. 
 
 I'LL not leave old Ireland, though fall'n she may be; 
 I'll not leave old Ireland until she is free. 
 Though light be her hope, and though dark be her fear, 
 I know in my heart that her dawning is near. 
 
 II. 
 
 The wild geese are going, the wild geese are gone; 
 The gay ships are dancing to bear them along; 
 There's waiiing behind them and sorrow before — • 
 They'll never again see their own island shore ! 
 
 iir. 
 
 The west winds are blowing across the wild main, 
 The west winds ai'c beck'ning to freedom and gain; 
 But your tears and your mourning are dearer to me: 
 My place is beside you, acuslila machree 1 
 
 IV. 
 
 Would I fly to the sunshine, and you in the shadp? 
 Would I leave the green bosom that moulded and made ? 
 Is it while you were mourning — i,-> it while you were low— 
 Oh, my tears they are falling: you know I won't go ! 
 
 To strive and to struggle, to live or to die. 
 My place is beside you if all were to fly-r- 
 To pity and cherish, to help and defend, 
 Through labor and sorrow to wait for the end.
 
 TO THOMAS FRAXCIS MEAGUER. 15 
 
 TO THOMAS FRANCIS MEAGHER, 
 
 I. 
 
 THE ancient towers of the land, 
 The mountains blue and hoary, 
 The murmuring rivers, bright and bland, 
 
 Seem lit with newer glory. 
 They look on thee, they smile on thee; 
 
 Young patriot, bend thee lowly — 
 A spirit deep of prophecy 
 
 Breathes o'er thee, true and holy! 
 
 II. 
 
 Oh, fold thy hands and bend thy brow, 
 
 For solemn words are spoken — 
 The glorious way before thee now 
 
 Is yet through bonds unbroken. 
 Go! strong in warrior's heart of fire, 
 
 And tongue of Coradh's* power. 
 Nor force of wiles nor darkest ire 
 
 May triumph o'er that dower! 
 
 OUR COURSE 
 
 I. 
 
 WE turn to ye, O preachers of a nation's solemn vow. 
 With strength unfaiUng f oi; the path that we must tread in 
 now. 
 Men of the Eath of MuUaghmast, of Tara's sacred hill. 
 Men of the dungeon and the gyves, are ye those strong men still ? 
 
 *The war musicians of ancient Ireland were called Coradhs.
 
 16 OUR COURSE. 
 
 II. 
 Oh, meet for us to rest upon tlae stern-recorded gage 
 Of generous and bounding youth and wisdom-tempered age, 
 Whose words gleam out like fiery stars upon the broad, bright 
 
 sky, 
 Before the gaze of all the world, as shining and as high. 
 
 III. 
 "We falter not upon the way that nobly ye have shown ; 
 "No failing, now, within our souls until we gi"asp our own !" 
 That oath! — 'tis writ! — where'er we turn it fills the very air: 
 We place our hands upon our hearts, and feel 'tis written there ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 We know the weapons of our foe, the taunt, the doubt, the lie. 
 The friendly sneer, the audacious threat, the blight of treachery. 
 But through the dungeon, field or grave still onward is our way — 
 Still journeying through the gloom of night, as in the blaze of 
 day! 
 
 That path for us is graven deep, 'tis marked by many a wrong. 
 Is heralded by patriots dear in many a martyred throng. 
 Is it not traced by true men's steel, and lighted by their words ? 
 Shall it be barred against our march by all those threatening 
 hordes ? 
 
 VI. 
 
 No! did we pause or turn aside from that we're sworn to do, 
 We well might blush to look upon the Heaven before our view: 
 Not loud enough the thunder peal, not bright enough the sun, 
 To tell the listening world our shame, if this foul deed were done !
 
 DO WN, BRn\lNNlA I 17 
 
 DOWN, BRITANNIA! 
 
 I. 
 
 DOWN, Britannia ! brigand , do-wTi ! 
 No more to rule with sceptred hand ; 
 Truth raises o'er thy throne and crown 
 
 Her exorcising wand. 
 I see " the -«Titing on the wall," 
 The proud, the thrice-accursed shall fall — 
 Down, Britannia, down! 
 
 II. 
 
 Jubilate!— rings the ciy 
 
 Exialtingly from pole to pole, 
 With bended knee and glistening eye 
 
 Glad shouts of triumph roll. 
 lo pman — raise the song : 
 From sea to shore it sweeps along — 
 Down, Britannia, down ! 
 
 III. 
 
 For cold deceit, through long, long years, 
 For iron rule with blood-stained sword, 
 
 For brave men's lives, for woman's tears. 
 For basely-broken word, 
 
 There comes a loud exulting voice, 
 
 Bidding the long-oppressed rejoice — 
 
 Down, Britannia, down ! 
 
 rv. 
 
 The golden sands of Indian clime, 
 The China towers of old Pekin 
 
 Have seen the desolating print 
 Of thy dark hoof of sin ;
 
 18 DO WN, BRITANNIA ! 
 
 And, ground and trampled to the death, 
 Their children cry with Litest breath — 
 Down, Britannia, down ! 
 
 Still wailing at the Eternal gate, 
 
 See myriad blood-stained sceptres stand; 
 They cry aloud through night and day 
 
 Against thy robber hand: 
 For " Vengeance, vengeance, dark and dire, 
 Lord of glory, show thine ire ! — 
 
 Down, Britannia, down!" 
 
 VI. 
 
 Tes, down, if Heaven will aid the brave, 
 If life and strength have but this aim, 
 
 Accounting Ijlood and toil as nought 
 So thou art brought to shame. 
 
 God grant to us the final blow. 
 
 Unto the dust to strike thee low — 
 
 Down, Britannia, down ! 
 
 VII. 
 
 For this have heroes fought and bled, 
 For this have pined in exile lone; 
 
 For this the gallows bore its fruit, 
 And yet it was not won. 
 
 But, oh, 'tis worth a struggle yet. 
 
 Though every hearth with blood were wet — 
 Down, Britannia, down ! 
 
 VIII. 
 
 When banded are the good and true. 
 We know, at least, the word is said; 
 
 We march along the glorious way, 
 By Heavenly teaching led. 
 
 It comes at last, the wished-for hour. 
 For all to cry with prophet power — 
 
 Down, Britannia, down !
 
 CHARTIST ADDRESS. 19 
 
 CHARTIST ADDTvESS. 
 
 T)EAri, a bravo heart, my brothers all- 
 ) The hearts of EngUshmen ; 
 Strive well for that old land of j'ours, 
 
 And make it free again. 
 The tramp of Freedom loud resounds 
 
 Through all the list'ning world, 
 And now she's coming o'or the sea, 
 AVilh her brave flag unfurled ! 
 
 II.- 
 
 The People's cause is one alono 
 
 Through all the world wide ; 
 By foreign name, or foreign tongue. 
 
 That cause you can't divide ! 
 Two races only do I see 
 
 Upon this globe of ours : 
 The cheated sons of woe and toil, 
 
 The juggling "higher powers !" 
 
 m. 
 
 One master crushes both alike, 
 
 The Saxon and the Celt — 
 For all the pomp of throne and state 
 
 Our bone and substance melt. 
 Then, hand in hand, we'll face the foe, 
 
 And grapple with the wrong, 
 And show the tyrant and the slave 
 
 A people's will is strong !
 
 20 HYMN OF THE SWORD. 
 
 lY. 
 
 They dare not palter with the stern, 
 
 Nor stnigglc wilh the true; 
 Our hearts shall guard the iDiecions green, 
 
 And yours the red and blue. 
 Close up, close up ! in ranks of steel — ■ 
 
 The people's cause — hurrah ! 
 Oppressors of your fellow-men, 
 
 We wait not for a day ! 
 
 By the high might of Truth and Eight, 
 More potent than the storm ; 
 
 By the great vow, all reckless now. 
 Of reddest war's alarm — 
 
 We'll have our own despite them all. 
 Or Commons, Queen or Lords ; 
 
 And we'll read our Charter by the light 
 Of ten thousand flashing swords ! 
 
 HYMN OF THE SWORD. 
 
 CHEBUB of snowy wing. 
 Who armed thy strong right hand 
 With tliat red lightning steel 
 Before the Heavenly land ? 
 Who gave to thee the sword. 
 The dark-defending sword, 
 Before the gate to stand ?
 
 HYMN OF THE SWORD. 21 
 
 II. 
 
 It flaslied in awful might, 
 
 The fieiy, golden sword — 
 Death-dealing, sacred steel, 
 
 The Viceroy of the Lord ! 
 No mighty word he spoke, 
 
 But all his wrath awoke 
 In the kingly-flaming sword ? 
 
 III. 
 
 Give us that sword, O God ! — 
 
 Give us that fiery sword ! 
 As holy things as Eden's vales 
 
 Have we for thee to guard : 
 Home, Country, Honor, Faith, 
 
 To guard from taint and scath — ■ 
 Give us that fiery sword ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 "Where is our sword, God ? 
 
 Where is our flaming steel. 
 To make the desecrating foe 
 
 Before Thy footstool reel ? 
 "Where is our guardian sword, 
 
 Before the gate to stand, 
 A free and holy land. 
 
 To sentinel for Thee ? 
 
 V. 
 
 "We stand before Thee now, 
 
 Before Thy throne adored ; 
 Give us that sacred trust, 
 
 Give us that watch and ward- 
 Untiring guardians we. 
 
 Before Thine eye shall be. 
 Armed with Thy fiery sword !
 
 22 THE LORDS OF THE SOIL. 
 
 THE LORDS OF THE SOIL. 
 
 I. 
 
 YE Gentlemen of Ireland, ■wh.o stand upon the sod 
 Where oncayoui" gallant ancestors in pride and freedom trod ! 
 H.ivc yo no thouglit or feeling li'-gli that marked your noble race ? 
 In word, or look, or deed may -svc that regal lineage trace ? 
 
 II. 
 
 Upon each hill above yc, within each sunny vale, 
 
 Their tones of triumph swelled rdoud, their banners kissed the 
 
 galo; 
 Amongst the lieath-beds, bronzed with light, where dashing 
 
 torrents ran, 
 Has rung the war-cry, stern and loud, of many a mountain clan. 
 
 HI. 
 
 In broad lar-Conachl 's region, where rise the Arran isles, 
 Where, heaving up its bosom strong, the fair Lough Corrib 
 
 smiles ; 
 Where towers Ben Nepliin, mighty, a lord above the sea. 
 There some have ruled with sceptred hand whose name abides 
 
 with ye. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Upon Camailte's mountain, whoso head is white with years, 
 What thrilling cries have mingled with the clashing of the spears ! 
 On evei-y si)ot of Irish ground bright memories start and throng. 
 That as a golden treasure still to Irish hearts belong ! 
 
 V. 
 
 The broad lands of your fathers still stretch before you Ihere, 
 Your homes are on that hallow'd ground, but not as thdr homes 
 
 were ; 
 The emgrald fields you call your own, at what a j^rice you hold ! 
 Each free-born thought and word of yours unto your masters 
 
 sold !
 
 THE FALLEN QUEEN. 23 
 
 TI. 
 
 O Pariahs of Europe ! apes of British rule ! 
 
 Bass mixture of the selfisii knave and of the piteoiis fool ! 
 
 Go, stand before your haughty lords, and cringe and fawn and 
 
 wait 
 The honor of a nod that tells the meanness of your state ! 
 
 VII. 
 
 Oh! ye are useful weapons of tyrants and of knaves, 
 To strike into that coimtry 's heait where rest your fathers' graves ! 
 Around you breaks a bitter wail, Avith wrath and anguish fraught : 
 "Like weight of mountains on your heads be all the ills you've 
 wrought !" 
 
 THE FALLEN QUEEN. 
 I. 
 
 I MOURN within my palace hall. 
 Amid the ruin and wreck; 
 No royal trappings round me fall, 
 
 Nor gems my forehead deck. 
 The golden sceplre now is felled ; 
 
 And bowed the haughty mien 
 Of her who once in glory held 
 The rank of rightful queen. 
 
 n. 
 
 My children wail with bitter tears 
 The grief that sears my brow. 
 
 And I'm alone amid their fears, 
 "With none to aid me now.
 
 ii THE FALLEN QUEEN. 
 
 My head is covered with the dust, 
 And soiled my robes of green; 
 
 I am a woman wronged and lost, 
 But not the less a queen. 
 
 ni. 
 
 For traitor Might may trample down 
 
 Whate'er is pure and true; 
 Bat Right still wears her golden crown, 
 
 And claims her glorious due. 
 So cv'n amid their cruel power 
 
 I still can stand serene. 
 And hold undimmed the sacred dower 
 
 Of one, a true-born queen. 
 
 IV. 
 
 For God hath given to me a place. 
 
 And set on me a sign 
 That mortal hand can ne'er deface, 
 
 Nor I can ne'er resign. 
 And though above the land and wave 
 
 The spoiler strong is seen, 
 He's not the less a robber knave. 
 
 Nor I the less a queen. 
 
 I once had stores at my command, 
 
 Rich blessings from above ; 
 My subjects all a faithful band 
 
 To guard me with their love. 
 Alasl alas! their life-blood dyes 
 
 Those faded robes of green, 
 And nought remains but tears and sighs 
 
 For me, theu- fallen queen !
 
 NATIONAL MARCH. 2S 
 
 NATIONAL MARCH 
 
 "l/rEN of the soil ! good men and true, 
 . .ij. Quick be }■ our march the dark way through. 
 Proud is the moment when wrongs are redrest, 
 Lying for ages a load on the breast. 
 Ou ! on ! through doubt and through danger, 
 On, over the head of the stranger — 
 Forward, and carry the day ! 
 
 What is before ? the gibbet or sword — 
 
 Patriot men, do ye seek a reward ? 
 
 On ! on every step there is fame ; 
 
 Back ! and be lost in th' abysm of shame. 
 
 On ! on ! 'tis the day of salvation ; 
 
 On ! ou ! 'tis the hour for a nation — 
 
 Forward ! the struggle is come ! 
 
 in. 
 
 March ! march ! men of the soil, 
 Foi'ce, shall it swerve ye, or treachery foil ? 
 Yours is to sweep every wrong from its stand, 
 Or leave not a trace of yourselves in the land. 
 On ! on ! no fear or no failing, 
 Listen no more to the cold or the quailing — 
 Forward ! the day is your own !
 
 46 THE GATHERING. 
 
 THE GATHERING. 
 
 COME forth ! Is it true that ye cannot awaken ? 
 Come forth, ere this hoiu- from our vengeance be taken ! 
 To blot out the darkness of numberless ages, 
 To brighten the future for history's pages ; 
 Come forth in your wrath, in your sorrow and madness, 
 As swift as the torrents leap out in their gladness ; 
 For wi'ongs to avenge, and for rights to recover, 
 Come on, with the ardor and hope of a lover ! 
 Come forth, with the thoughts that are burning within you ; 
 Let glory and honor and memory win you. 
 Of many a hope and a joy they've bereft you. 
 But strength for the contest still, still it is left you. 
 Come on, by the sorrows that wildly oppress you ; 
 By the hope of that triumph that surely will bless you ! 
 By the past driven forth, by the future invited. 
 There's a voice and a sign that may never be slighted ! 
 •They come, the brave sons of the Emerald Mother, 
 They come to the struggle, sire, cUavan* and brother ! 
 From the cUfif and the mountain I see them down pouring, 
 Their war-cry the voice of the tempest outroaring. 
 With proud eyes to dare ev'n the lightning and thunder, 
 The ranks of the foemcn all breaking asunder. 
 Like rivers that sound in their silvery laughter. 
 With wave upon wave dashing after and after ! 
 For, oh ! it is mirthful to meet thus together. 
 With pike in the hand and with foot on the heather; 
 To think of the wrong, as you grasp with the wronger. 
 And feel the deep soul growing stronger and stronger ; 
 And think that one blow will, for ever and ever, 
 Our nation and name from all tyranny sever. 
 Oh, day of all days ! when the old soil, awoken, 
 Will trample the chains she has fearlessly broken ! 
 
 • AnQl'iCt.—YricQdi or relative.
 
 GOD SAVE THE PEOPLE. 27 
 
 GOD SAVE THE PEOPLE. 
 
 GOD save the People all ! 
 While thrones and sceptres round them fall, 
 Shout aloud the sacred call, 
 
 God save the People ! 
 
 n. 
 
 Through cannon's roar, and flash of steel, 
 As laws and systems rock and reel. 
 Through strife that blood, perchance, must seal, 
 God save the People ! 
 
 m. 
 
 God save those who solely can 
 Giaard the soil from shame and ban ; • 
 Then be the prayer of every man, 
 
 God save the People ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 From misty dreams, from words that glow 
 Above the void that lies below. 
 From this their ancient curse and woe, 
 God save the People ! 
 
 V. 
 
 From evil thought to mar the cause, 
 From falsehood to The Eternal's laws, 
 From headlong rush or coward pause, 
 God save the People !
 
 38 TBE REBEL'S SERMON— A STREET BALLAD. 
 
 YI. 
 
 From knaves and fools -who seek to sway. 
 When 7nen alone should lead the way, 
 (Upon the waves the spotless spray) — 
 God save the People ! 
 
 VII. 
 
 The snowy wings are flutteriug by, 
 
 Of angel opportunity ! ' 
 
 Let her not mount unto the sky — 
 
 God save the People ! 
 
 THE REBEL'S SERMON— A STREET BALLAD. 
 
 I. 
 
 MY brothers, all, who hear me now, 
 Give ear to what I say ; 
 The words are solemn that I speak 
 
 On this, my dying day : 
 For Ireland's love, for England's hate, 
 
 I swore a solemn vow. 
 And if I swore it once before, 
 I'd swear it ten times now ! 
 For Ireland ! for Ireland ! 
 Upon this drop I stand ; 
 For Ireland, for Ireland, 
 My own native land ! 
 
 II. 
 
 Thrice blacker be the face of death, 
 
 Thrice brighter be the sky ! 
 And yet, for such a cause as this, 
 
 I'm well content to die !
 
 THE REBEL'S SERMON— A STREET BALLAD. 20 
 
 I never knew what 'twas to fear, 
 
 And still I do not know ; 
 And for the wrongs that seared my heart 
 I strove to deal a blow. 
 
 You'll follow, you'll follow. 
 
 The path I went before, 
 Like brave men, to save, men, 
 Their old island shore ! 
 
 ni. 
 
 I did the duty of a man ; 
 I care for life no move ; 
 If death will bring the cause some good. 
 
 Its stroke I don't deplore. 
 If one more throb of stern resolve 
 
 It raise in any breast, 
 If one more pulse of bitter hate 
 'Gainst England's robber crest — 
 'Tis welcome ! 'tis welcome. 
 
 Eight merrily to me ; 
 Victorious, and glorious 
 The last hour 1 see ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 And now the word I'd leave behind 
 Is Vengeance ! Vengeance ! still. 
 O'er every plain I'd ring it out. 
 
 On every lofty hill. 
 Who cares a straw for life and limb 
 
 Deserves not to be free ; 
 Who thinks of caution or of fear 
 Will frighten liberty. 
 
 Still daring, uncaring. 
 
 For all the might of man. 
 There is no other way, my boys, 
 To carry out your plan !
 
 30 SILKEN THOMAS. 
 
 SILKEN THO^IAS. 
 
 ■WEITTEN IN 1848, FOn THOMAS FKANCI3 MEAGHEB. 
 
 HO ! speed along, my trusty men, and proud yoiir gathering be, 
 For one who loves the dear old land stands firm in front of ye. 
 In glowing youth, in stainless truth, he stands the foremost 
 
 there, 
 With warrior's sword and warrior's heart, prepared to do and 
 dare. 
 
 II. 
 
 His white plume tosses to the wind like foam upon the sea. 
 And his gallant palfrey bears him on with step so proud and free. 
 He shines before our dazzled eyes a glory and a joy, 
 Our young, brave Silken Thomas, that brave and princely boy ! 
 
 m. 
 
 A leader in the land he looks decked in a robe of green, 
 The flashing gems and yellow gold beseem the royal mien ; 
 Biit gems and gold and silken sheen before his glance are dim ; 
 From these he borrows nought of grace, 'tis they have all from 
 him. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Though proud the noble name he bears, yet more for his renown 
 He comes, the Champion of the Eight, 'gainst coronet and 
 
 crown — 
 I ween no man e'er looked more grand than 'mid the clashing 
 
 spears. 
 And the loud, exulting welcome of those fearless mountaineers.
 
 TO THE MAGNATES OF IRELAND. 31 
 
 V. 
 
 From hill, and glen, and spreading plain, such triumph never 
 rung 
 
 As greets the wild war-music poured from our young chieftain's 
 tongue_ — 
 
 " We'll follow you through life or death— we'll follow to the last— 
 
 "The word ! —the word !— we want no more ; 'twill be the trum- 
 pet's blast !" 
 
 VI. 
 
 The banners wave, the clarions peal ; now comes the nish and 
 
 reel, 
 The booming of the deadly gun, the glancing of the steel ; 
 And there, within the foremost ranks, like to a shooting star. 
 Our Silken Thomas may be seen, all glorious from afar ! 
 
 TO THE MAGNATES OF IRELAND. 
 
 1. 
 
 I LOVE not vengeance, men of gore, 
 By word, or deed, or sword ; 
 But, sooth to say, I do adore 
 
 The Justice of the Lord ! 
 And, watching now the awful doom 
 
 Fast gathering o'er your path, 
 I shudder, but I do not mourn 
 The fearful "day of wrath." 
 
 n. 
 
 I do not mourn your crumbling walls. 
 
 Your lost ancestral fame, 
 The loathing or the scorn that falls 
 
 Upon your guilt and shame.
 
 83 TO THE MAGNATES OF IRELAND. 
 
 For years on years the web you wrought 
 That now, to-day, you wear — 
 
 The clinging robe ^^'ith poison fraught, 
 And torture, and despair. 
 
 in. 
 
 There is no mercy — none, oh, none ! 
 
 How many a voice in vain 
 Hath prayed to ye, in seraph tone, 
 
 That nevermore will deign ! 
 There is an hour that surely comes 
 
 To stiff-necked, ceaseless crime, 
 When Hell's breath withers Mercy — Love, 
 
 And reigns alone, sublime. 
 
 r7. 
 
 That hour is come ! Ye stand arraigned 
 
 Before the listening world — 
 Before that God, at whose command 
 
 Ye have defiance hurled : 
 For stony heai-ts, for robber hands, 
 
 ?or tears and gi-oans and blood. 
 And all the horde of stinging sins 
 
 That made this land their food. 
 
 In vain swelled out the teeming breast 
 
 Of this our golden soil ; 
 'Twas but for your fell power to blast- 
 
 Your blackened hands to spoil. 
 In vain the patriot's voice was heard ; 
 
 Ye started at the sound, 
 And then, slipped from the tightened leash. 
 
 Ye played the baiting hound.
 
 THE OATH OF ALLEGIANCE. 33 
 
 Now, 'twixt two burning fires ye stand, 
 
 Your victims and your lords, 
 The wailing curses of the land, 
 
 And "law's " remorseless hordes. 
 • Yet, in that awful labyrinth 
 
 What instinct still is strong ? 
 With life's last throes, waio the close, 
 
 Still clinging to the wrong ! 
 
 VII. 
 
 By blackened roof-tree, fireless hearth, 
 
 By all that ye have crost. 
 The word is writ on sky and earth. 
 
 Your game is played — and lost ! 
 And though I may not vengeance love, 
 
 By word, or deed, or sword, 
 Yet still I ever must adore 
 
 The Justice of the Lord ! 
 
 THE OATH OF ALLEGIANCE. 
 
 GOOD men, true men, stand ye forth ! 
 East and west, and south and north, 
 Eaise the chorus deep and loud, 
 "Life and limb to thee are vowed, 
 
 Erin !" 
 
 Royal mistress, sad and pale, 
 Some with tears thy fate bewail ; 
 Men have sterner work to do : 
 They must scorn the wiristhru* — 
 
 Scorn it ! 
 
 *The Lament.
 
 Si CHANT OF THE IRISH MINSTREL. 
 
 Voiceless is the brave man's grief. 
 Dark Lis vow and stern and brief, 
 Strong liis soul to work or wait, 
 Marching still through love or hate, 
 
 Onward ! 
 
 While one weapon yet remains, 
 Strike, despite all ills or pains ; 
 While at hand there lies one task. 
 Seek not the future to unmask — 
 
 Seek not ! 
 
 Like a rainbow in the night, 
 Hope still arches o'er the right ; 
 From the depths the fount shall burst, 
 Soon to slake pur weary thirst, 
 
 Bi-others ! 
 
 Men of Irish blood and bone ! 
 Will ye not allegiance own 
 To the Lady of the Green, 
 To our true and lawful Queen ? 
 
 Erin ! 
 
 Yes ! they come, exulting, forth, 
 East and west, and south and n»orth; 
 By the blessed book and sign. 
 Firm and faithful, they are thine, 
 
 Erin! 
 
 CHANT OF THE IRISH MINSTREL. 
 
 I. 
 
 InEAR cold voices saying that she, my Queen, is dead. 
 And those sad chords may nevermore their tones of music shed; 
 That I, who wildly loved her, must weep in mute despair: 
 Ah, they know not how true love will cling, though bhght and 
 death be there !
 
 CHANT OF THE IRISH UINSTEEL. 36 
 
 II. 
 
 I have no joy or triumpli to swell ni)'- minstrel lay, 
 I have no hope to cheer me on the dark and lonely way ; 
 Bnt in this feeble soul there's still a might they dream not of, 
 While living springs are in my breast of deep, unswerving Love. 
 
 m. 
 
 Yes, pale one, in thy sorrow ! yes, wronged one, in thy pain ! 
 This heart has still a beat for thee, this trembling hand a strain ; 
 They cannot steal the golden stores the past has left to me, 
 Or mate me shrink with broken faith, asihore machree, from thee ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 Oh, hear, my loved one, hear me ! 'tis no cold pulse meets your 
 
 own. 
 Its burning throb would warm to life, an' thou weri changed to 
 
 stone. 
 I'll call the color to thy cheek, the light into thine eye — 
 I know, at least, if thou art dead, viy love can never die ! 
 
 'Twotild make the air arouiid thee warm with breath of living 
 
 flame ; 
 In life or death, or joy or woe, 'twill cling to thee the same : 
 No, never in the gladdest hour, when thou wert proud and strong, 
 Was deeper worship poured than now, in this low mourning 
 
 song ! 
 
 VI. 
 
 I knelt before you long ago, when a crown was on your brow, 
 I loved you with a fervent love — I love you firmer now ; 
 And that which makes the ivy green around the mouldering tree, 
 Will make my voice all tuneful still, asthore machree, for thee !
 
 M DARE IT. 
 
 DARE IT. 
 
 I. 
 
 THIS is the honr of strife, 
 Dare it ! 
 With vast results 'tis rife, 
 
 Dare it ! 
 Stand forward in the breach ; 
 Let sturdy action preach, 
 Nor cant presume to teach — 
 
 Beware it ! 
 
 II. 
 
 Theory is, " All is lost " ! 
 
 Dare it ! 
 Whate'er the struggle cost, 
 
 Dare it ! 
 Submit not to a cheat ; 
 For us there's no defeat, 
 While true hearts round us beat — 
 
 We swear it ! 
 III. 
 
 The past, with all its woe, 
 
 Dare it ! 
 
 The present, weak and slow. 
 
 Dare it ! 
 
 The future as it may — 
 
 Go bolJly on your way. 
 
 To win the victor's bay, 
 
 And wear it 1 
 
 rv. 
 
 I hear the strong man say — 
 
 " Dare it ! 
 " If thou wouldst gain the day, 
 
 "Dare it!
 
 THE MURDERER. 87 
 
 " 1 -wrench from Fortune's hand 
 " The dark and threatening brand 
 " To serve, \vh6n I command, 
 
 " Nor spare it !" 
 
 V. 
 
 While tyrant thrall remains, 
 
 Dare it ! 
 Despite all ills and pains, 
 
 Dare it ! 
 Sown deep by Pen and tongue 
 Be "disaffection" strong — ■ 
 That struggle, sad and long. 
 
 Oh, bear it ! 
 
 TI. 
 
 By God's good help and strength, 
 
 Dare it ! 
 With all thy soul at length, 
 
 Dare it ! 
 Eecast the broken plan — 
 Stand forward to a man, 
 Ab though you'd just began — 
 
 Oh, swear it ! 
 
 THE MURDERER. ' 
 
 THE day it was, and who saw the sign 
 Of that now biirned on this brow of mine ? 
 When I faced the wide world with a fearless eye 
 That was open and true as the blessed sky ; 
 And sorrow and trouble, and sin and shame 
 Were far away from our honest name.
 
 38 TlIE MURDERER. 
 
 'Tis a terrible hour when the i^itchy gloom 
 Grows dark and dark as the j'awuiug tomb; 
 When, with bursting heart and straining eye, 
 For hope or for help you struggle and try — 
 And yet, after all, to find, at last, 
 That both mercy and hope are gone and past; 
 That woe and despair, and all Life's power. 
 Are like shadow and smoke in that fearful hour. 
 Were we made by the hands of the living God ? 
 Did he give us no right in our native sod ? 
 Was all — was all for the stranger's "law," 
 To swallow each day in its greedy maw ? 
 Was there nought for us but a curse and a ban, 
 To sink and to die by the will of man ? 
 The bit from my children's lips was wrenched; 
 The coal that lay on our hearth was quenched; 
 And the dark and cruel hoof 
 Trampled each stick of our humble roof. 
 I saw the face I loved gi-ow pale, 
 I heard around the wild death-wail. 
 
 Look! look on the earth — on the heaven ! "Within 
 
 I could see neither light nor right. 
 There was fiery pain on my spinning brain, 
 
 In my heart there was icy night. 
 My veins with blood they did not swell, 
 But with red-hot waves of the deepest hell ; 
 Through my soul swept on a hunicane's thunder 
 That would rend the strong oaks of the wood asunder- 
 That would part the breast of the mighty ocean : 
 Where, where was "right" in that dark commotion ? 
 Where, where were God, and Kight, and Heaven ? 
 Scatter'd, and blotted, and rent, and riven !
 
 OUR TRUE HEN. 28 
 
 "Was I shut and boimcl in a block of stone ? 
 Should I bnru, and writhe, and find outlet none 
 For those frightful pangs that like serpents hiss, 
 For a mountain weight that is felt like this! 
 
 Dark was the finger that showed the way, 
 Fearful the voice that the words did say — 
 Neighbors ! men ! 'twas my children's blood 
 •That bathed me up in a crimson flood. 
 I heard her cry in the winter ditch — 
 'Twas the murdered poor 'gainst the robber rich. 
 
 He sat one night at his plenteous table — 
 One night when the sky was cold and sable; 
 I lock'd ! — alone in the night I stood — 
 He ate and drank of tny flesh and blood. 
 There was laughter, and joy, and gladness — 
 
 For me but woe and madness — 
 
 And'a devil's voice in mine ear 
 
 That banished all ruth or fear — 
 
 OUR TRUE MEN. 
 
 1. 
 
 OUK true men ! our true men ! 
 We proudly sing them all. 
 In felon's chain, across the main, 
 
 Despite of tyrant thrall — 
 Our true men ! our true men ! 
 
 We do not fear to tell 
 How deep within our inmost souls 
 They and their treason dwell.
 
 ^0 OUR TRUE MEN. 
 
 II. 
 Those true men, those few men, 
 
 How truthfully they strove, 
 Unaided few, to rend in two 
 
 The chains around us wove. 
 Our true men ! our true men ! 
 
 Though coward tongues defame. 
 They'll bear through every grief and wrong 
 
 A pure, undying narae. 
 
 ni. 
 The loved ones, the proved ones, 
 
 They only trod the way 
 Where " Eight," of yore, led some before, 
 
 And more will guide to-day. 
 Our true men ! our true men ! 
 
 Perchance like yoTi to fail ; 
 But others then -ssdll fill the van, 
 
 And still the struggle hail ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 For masters ! masters ! 
 
 There's not our isle within 
 A plant so green and strong, I ween. 
 
 As Disaffection' s ein. 
 'Twill grow on, 'twill blow on. 
 
 Whatever you may do, 
 With nurture good, of tears and blood— 
 
 The food it ever knew. 
 
 v. 
 Our true men ! our true men I 
 
 Oh, proudly sing them all. 
 In traitor's chain, in wrong and pain, 
 
 Or lonely wanderers all ! 
 Our true men ! our true men ! 
 
 We do not fear to tell 
 How deep within our inmost souls 
 
 They and their treason dwell.
 
 THE FELON. 
 
 41 
 
 THE FELON.* 
 
 ^rpiS Ireland's rallying cry : 
 
 J^ We'll raise it to the sky, 
 
 With flashing sword and eye — 
 
 The Felon ! 
 
 11. 
 
 'Tis loud as trumpet's call, 
 
 To rouse the sleepers all, 
 
 To strive — to strike — to fall ! — 
 
 The Felon. 
 
 III. 
 
 That great voice struck the chime 
 Of a new and wondrous time — 
 Those deep tones rang si^blime 
 
 Through the land. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Never combat wrong with wrong ; 
 In truth alone be strong ! 
 Eise boldly— and, ere long. 
 
 You are free ! 
 
 V. 
 
 Now, in this time of woe, 
 That Gospel truth we know. 
 No parley with the foe 
 
 Shall we hold. 
 
 * John Mitchel.
 
 43 THE FELON. 
 
 VI. 
 
 As summer foliage riven 
 
 By the arrows of the levin, 
 
 From our hearts is softness driven 
 
 By that blow. 
 
 VII. 
 
 'Tis the silent, brooding hour, 
 'Twixt the strife of Pdght with Power, 
 Dark, lurid glances lower 
 
 Everywhere. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Each red-hot passion, lo ! 
 In this its liquid flow, 
 We mould as steel, that so 
 
 We avenge ! 
 
 IX. 
 
 By the laws that maddening mock. 
 By the convict-ship and dock. 
 By that parting's bitter shock, 
 
 Stand prepared ! 
 
 By the all-unconquered mien. 
 In that final moment seen. 
 Undaunted and serene. 
 
 Nerve your hearts ! 
 
 zi. 
 
 By his words, like sabre swing. 
 Calm, keen, unwavering. 
 To the winds endurance fling 
 
 From this day.
 
 PROGRESS 48 
 
 XII. 
 
 By the sacrifice that sealed 
 The cloctrine he revealed, 
 Think, now, but of the field. 
 
 And of him. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 "For one — for two — for three !" t 
 Ay, hundreds, thousands, see, 
 For vengeance and for thee ! 
 
 To the last I 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Oh, surely shall we show 
 To that base, detested foe, 
 That even in wrong and woe 
 
 The victory was thine ! \ 
 
 PROGRESS, 
 
 I. 
 
 1 WAKE, awake, from visions vain, 
 j^ Those beauteous clouds that turn to rain, 
 From hopes that light and empty fall. 
 Like "Winter blossoms, fruitless all — 
 Go ! arm thyself with brand and shield, 
 To seek, and fight, and win the field. 
 
 t " Shall I not answer for one, for two, for three ?" 
 
 t " And, my Lord, the victory is with me."— {Extracts from ililchel's words 
 in the dock.)
 
 44 PROGRESS. 
 
 n. 
 
 Awake ! the power is all inert 
 With which thy soul is broadly girt ; 
 The power thine aiiy dreams to make, 
 No cobweb craft for child to break ; 
 The power to win from ruin and wreck 
 A diadem thy brow to deck. 
 
 in. 
 
 Not rashly, hotly, seek the way. 
 But seize the weapons of the day ; 
 Coolly act, and gravely feel, 
 Keen and sure, yet cold as steel — 
 Let it grow, that glorious hour. 
 Like the growth of tree or flower ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 Hun-ying on, hurrying free, 
 Like the river to the sea, 
 Through the dark and rocky cave, 
 With its deep, resistless wave ; 
 Strong, untiring, secret, still, 
 Be the current of thy will ! 
 
 V. 
 
 Underneath the sunshine's glow 
 And the verdure's tranquil show, 
 Swiftly dash the waters fierce. 
 Mad to gain and sure to pierce ; 
 Si^-iftly, darkly, on and on, 
 Till the goal at last is won ! 
 
 n. 
 
 Let thy glance be calm and smooth. 
 Let thy smile be light, in sooth ; 
 Shining on through gloom and tears, 
 Weariness and haggard fears, 
 Through the Present's giddy maze, 
 Through the Future's dreary haze.
 
 O'DONNELL OF TIPPERART. 45 
 
 Yn. 
 
 Stones before the architect, 
 
 The stately edifice erect — 
 
 So all life's events are still 
 
 To him of the determined will ; 
 
 And, doubt not, it is -writ that he 
 
 Who conquers not must conquered be I 
 
 O'DONNELL OF TIPPERARY.* 
 
 •• T)LACE me before your scarlet ranks, 
 
 J[ A Ihousand men and more, 
 And, though the chain around me clanks, 
 
 I'll keep the oath I swore. 
 Plant gun and bayonet to my teeth, 
 
 And let them pierce me through ; 
 But while a heart's within my breast 
 
 I'U never speak for you ! 
 
 n. 
 
 ' ' Tou brought me here an honest man, 
 
 You shall not make me slave — 
 ■No eye shall ever ' traitor' scan 
 
 Upon ODonnell's grave. 
 The darkest wrong your power can do 
 
 Can alter not the vow, 
 Which says my children ne'er shall see 
 
 That brand upon my brow !" 
 
 ' ' — — — — — — — ■ 
 
 *The peasant farmer ■who refused to bo sworn in evidence against Smith 
 O'Brien in 1818.
 
 «6 AN EBIN. 
 
 m. 
 
 The true man's words are borne aloft, 
 
 To shine among the stars ; 
 We cherish them within our hearts 
 
 Despite of bolts and bars. 
 'Mid all our sorrow and our wrongs, 
 
 Our deep and burning shame, 
 The brighter, purer for it all 
 
 Appears O'Donnf.ll's name ! 
 
 AN ERIN.* 
 
 1. 
 
 IRELAND ! Ireland ! proud heai-ts are breaking 
 For thee to-day, 
 And eyes that watched for thy glad awaking 
 
 Are turned away. 
 And voices low and tearful 
 
 Are heard of Hope to sing ; 
 But the voice in our heart so fearful, 
 
 Nor comfort nor hope can bring. 
 
 n. 
 
 O Ireland ! Ireland ! thy life is closing 
 
 In the death of pain ; 
 From thy broken heart is slowly oozing 
 
 The shower of crimson rain. 
 There thou art prostrate lying. 
 
 With the age of grief grown gray ; 
 There thou art faintly sighing 
 
 The dream of the years away. 
 
 ♦" An Krin," t. e., " To Erin.
 
 AN ERIN. 4T 
 
 m. 
 
 O Ireland ! Ireland ! it is still unriven, 
 
 That clanking chain ; 
 Yet the countless wealth that for thee was given 
 
 Might ransom Cain. 
 In vain were they gifted and brave and triithful — 
 
 Our martyred host ; 
 Thy cause is woe to the old, or youthful — 
 
 All, all are lost ! 
 
 rv. 
 
 But another, and yet another, 
 
 O'er thy cold bier 
 Oh, pallid and lifeless mother, 
 
 Are watching near ; 
 They dream in their grief's wild madness 
 
 That thou wilt awake again — 
 They call thee with frenzied sadness. 
 
 Those heart--«vrung and stricken men ! 
 
 v. 
 O Ireland ! Ireland ! dost hear them blending 
 
 That piercing dole, 
 Through the cloud- wrapt skies ascending, 
 
 Like the cry of a ruined soul. 
 They know not, blessed Mary ! 
 
 'Tis flowers o'er a corpse they fling ; 
 They hear not the miserere 
 
 The pitying angels sing, 
 
 VI. 
 
 O Ireland ! Ireland ! no streak of dawning 
 
 Is on thy sky ; 
 Still at our feet is the wide gulf yawning, 
 
 Where treasures on treasures lie. 
 Down through tht deep, deep darkness 
 
 Victim on victim springs, 
 But the hour of its closing, never, 
 
 Or morning or midnight brings !
 
 48 THE PEOPLES CHIEF. 
 
 THE PEOPLE'S CHIEF. 
 
 COME forth, come foiih, Man of Men ! to the cry of the 
 gathering nations; 
 We watch on the tower, we watch on the hill, pouring our invo- 
 cations — 
 Our Bouls are sick of sounds and shades, that mock our bitter 
 
 grief, 
 We hurl the Dagons from their seats, and call the lawful Chief ! 
 
 n. 
 
 Come forth, come forth, O Man of Men ! to the frenzy of our 
 
 imploring, 
 The winged despair that no more can bear, up to the heavens 
 
 soaring — 
 Come, Faith, and Hope, and Love and Trust ! upon their centre 
 
 rock 
 The wailing Millions summon thee, amid the earthquake shock ! 
 
 m. 
 
 W e've kept the weary watch of years with a wild and a heart-wrung 
 
 yearning. 
 But the star of the Advent we sought in vain, calmly and purely 
 
 burning : 
 False metfors flashed across the sky, and falsely led us on ; 
 The panting of the strife is come, the spell is o'er and gone ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 The etorms of enfranchised passions rise as the voice of the 
 
 eagle's screaming, 
 And we scatter now to the earth's four winds the memory of our 
 
 dreaming !
 
 THE CURSE. « 
 
 The clouds but veil the lightning's bolt; Sibylline murmurs 
 
 ring 
 In hollow tones from out the depths : the Peoples seek their 
 
 King ! 
 
 V. 
 
 Come forth, come forth, Annointed One ! nor blazon nor honors 
 
 beai'ing ; 
 No "ancient line " be thy seal or sign, the crown of Humanity 
 
 wearing. 
 Spring out, as lucent fountains spring, exulting from the ground— 
 Arise, as Adam rose from God, with strength and knowledge 
 
 crowned ! 
 
 VI. 
 
 The leader'of the world's wide host guiding our aspirations, 
 Wear thou the seamless garb of Truth, sitting among the Nations ! 
 Thy foot is on the empty forms around in shivers cast — 
 We crush j'e with the scorn of scorn, exuvia) of the past ! 
 
 vn. 
 
 The future's closed gates are now on their ponderous hinges 
 
 jarring, 
 And there comes a sound, as of winds and waves, each with the 
 
 other warring : 
 And forward bends the list'ning world, as to their eager ken 
 From out that dark and mystic land appears the Man of MtN ! 
 
 s 
 
 THE CURSE". 
 
 [FBOM the IBISH OF CAHAIi o'BEILXT.] 
 
 HE whisper'd the words in the listener's ear. 
 And the listener's brain was on fire to hear. 
 
 " She's false ! she's false ! to her bosom's core, 
 Trust her not now aa you trusted before ! "
 
 60 TIIE CURSE. 
 
 V 
 
 Wo ! oh, wo ! he is cold and wan — 
 
 Are his heart-strings broke ? — is his life-breath gone ? 
 
 His life is not gone ; it is strong in hate, 
 The fiend's breath swells in his soi;l ehite. 
 
 Blood, red blood, will but quench the wrong; 
 
 And the wrong was quenched ere the moiTOw's sun. 
 
 The tempter, then, she has heard a voice: 
 " Thou shalt not now in thy crime rejoice ! 
 
 " Go ! depart from this outward world — • 
 
 ( She hears the curse till her blood is curdl'd.) 
 
 ' ' Go ! for seven long yeai-s to dwell 
 
 In the heart thou hast lit with the flames of Hell. 
 
 •' Seven long years 'mid the hissing brood, 
 Of snakes that there have their daily food. 
 
 " And still, when that heart is cold and dead, 
 Thou'lt live as -well in thy prison dread. 
 
 ' ' With the seven dark sins in thy breast to bum. 
 Whilst thou art lock'd in that icy um. 
 
 " But though thou rage as the devils rage, 
 'Tis all in vain in thy rigid cage. 
 
 " There in the depths of the hopeless tomb 
 Hear the words of thy fearful doom ! " 
 
 Into the heart, then, she's gone to dwell, 
 That erst she fiU'd with the flames of Hell. 
 
 And ev'n when that heart is cold and dead, 
 She'll still live on in her prison dread. 
 
 With the seven dark sins in her breast to bum, 
 Whilst she is locked in that icy um. 
 
 And she shall rage as the devils rage. 
 But all in vain in that rigid cage.
 
 >> 
 
 A CAOINE. n 
 
 There iu the depths of the hopeless tomb — 
 T\'o ! oh, wo! for that fearful doom ! 
 
 Wo ! oh, wo ! through all time below, 
 To the hand that labors the wrong to sow. 
 
 "Wo ! oh, wo ! for the lying word. 
 
 From the mighty wrath of the all-just Lord. 
 
 A C AOI NE. 
 
 [FBOM THE ntlSB.] 
 I. 
 
 GONE, gone from me, and from the earth, and from the sum- 
 mer sky, 
 And all the bx'ight, wild hope and love that swelled so proud and 
 
 high; 
 And all this heart had stored for thee -v^ithin its endless deep ! 
 With me — with me, oh ! nevermore thou'lt smile, or joy, or weep ! 
 
 II. 
 
 There are gold nails on your coffin; there are snowy plumes 
 
 above ; 
 They pour their pomp and honors there, but I this woe and love — 
 The hopeless woe, the longing love, that turn from earth away, 
 And pray for refuge and a home within the silent clay ! 
 
 ni. 
 
 Come, wild deer of the mountain side ! come, sweet bird of the 
 
 plain ! 
 To cheer the cold and trembling heart that beats for you in vain \ 
 Oh, come, from woe, and cold, and gloom, to her that's warm 
 
 and true. 
 And has no hope or throb for aught within this world but you !'
 
 63 THE ARD-RIGH-S BRIDE. 
 
 IV, 
 
 To the sad winds I have scattered the treasures of my soul — 
 The sorrow that no tongue could speak, nor mortal power 
 
 control — 
 And wept the weary night and day, until my heart was sore, 
 And every germ of peace and joy was withered at its core. 
 
 V. 
 
 In vain, in vain, this yearning cry — this dark and deep despair ! 
 I droop alone and trembling here, and thou art lying there. 
 But though thy smile upon the earth I never more may see, 
 And thou wilt never como to me — yet, I may fly to thee ! 
 
 VI. 
 
 I never stood within your home— I do not bear your name — 
 Life parted us for many a day, but Death now seals my claim; 
 In darkness, silence, and decay, and here at last alone, 
 You're but more truly bound to me — my darling and my own! 
 
 THE ARD-RIGirS BRIDE.* 
 
 MY queen ! my queen ! thou art won at last, 
 And I whisper to thee of the dreary past ; 
 I murmur the words in my soul I kept. 
 Through the long, long years when my darling slept ; 
 And I call thee my love, and I call thee my bride, 
 And I deck thy brow with a crown of pride. 
 
 For thou art my own — my own ? 
 
 * The '* Ard-fiigh " was the head Monarch of Eri6— Literally, Hiffh King.
 
 THE ARD-RIGirS BRIDE. 
 
 n. 
 
 I left my love in the days gone by, 
 
 With the terrible light of despair in her eye ; 
 
 Her cheek as white as the marble stone, 
 
 And her voice as sad as the night-wind's moan — 
 
 For her I would pour my heart's red rain, 
 
 But, ah ! at her side I might not remain — 
 
 With her, all my own — my own ! 
 
 in. 
 
 "Dream not," they said ; " thou shalt never see 
 The hour that will bring thy love to thee ; 
 For her hand is bound with an iron chain, 
 And she droops and pines in her lonely pain ; 
 The tomb for her it is opening wide 
 Thine shall be soon but a spirit bride !" 
 
 Alas ! and alas ! my own ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 " Lay sword and shield in thy father's hall, 
 Let the red rust cover their brightness all ; 
 Cast thine armor down in the blue sea- wave, 
 And thy hopes— let them find as deep a grave ; 
 For never, oh, never, on thee shall beam 
 The lovely star of thy youthful dream— 
 Never 1 ah, nevermore I" 
 
 T. 
 
 But my soul soared up on its wings of flame, 
 
 And a voice of celestial sweetness came : 
 
 It haunted my ears, my heart, my dreams — 
 
 It swelled like the murmurs thousand streams, 
 
 From earth and sky and sea it rung 
 
 That golden peal of immortal song : 
 
 It whispered my own — my own !
 
 U THE ARD-RIGH'S BRIDE. 
 
 TI. 
 
 I trained my steed fpr the crimson plain, 
 And decked my ship for the Btoriny main, 
 And I called the old, and I called the young 
 "With tones o'er the mountain and vale that rung. 
 For thee ! for thee ! my star— my sun — 
 The hope of my heart, my only one 1 — 
 
 For thee — and thy cause, mine own i 
 
 VII. 
 
 The clouds of the winter were round my path : 
 Pome answered in scorn and some in wrath ; 
 Till suddenly out of the gathering gloom 
 Gleamed banner and sword and lance and plume. 
 And backward the clouds of the darkness rolled. 
 And Iho morning came in its blue and gold — 
 
 It dawned for my own— my own ! 
 
 vni. 
 
 Then Hope sprang high as the white bird's wing. 
 And blossomed the leaves and flowers of Spring ; 
 And the light of my heart leapt into mine eyes, 
 And the blood to my cheek in its burning dyes, 
 For I saw the gleam of thy silvery feet, 
 And I heard thy voice as the harp-note sweet : 
 
 Thou wert near me, my own— my own ! 
 
 iz. 
 
 And I won thee, I won thee, amid them all ! 
 I drew thy hand from its iron thrall ; 
 And I clasped thee close to my aching breast, 
 To weep, to wonder, to dream, to rest — 
 To wear the crown of thy queeiJiy pride. 
 Fairest of all, the Ard-Iligh's bride : 
 
 My own— at last, my own 1
 
 OUR OLDEN TONGUE. 55 
 
 OUR OLDEN TONGUL. 
 
 I. 
 
 11E0M aim traclitiou's far-off opai fomitams, 
 ' Where clouds niiA sliadows loom. 
 
 Deep in tlie silence of the tall, grey mountain's 
 
 rrimeval gloom. 
 Thy silvery .stream flows down with music boundir^— 
 
 O ancient tongue I 
 With love and tears, and liugliter softly sounding. 
 As wild bird's liquid song I 
 
 From ^vind3 and waters, in their cTioral mingling, 
 
 Thy honeyed words were born; 
 From that strong pulse through Nature's bosom tiugliu;^ , 
 
 In Earth's first morn — 
 The quivering boughs, in forests green and olden. 
 
 With murmurs low, 
 Kang out such accents, beautiful and golden. 
 
 Beneath the •da^^^l's white glow, 
 
 IIL 
 
 Around, in miglity characters unfolded. 
 
 Thy fame we yet discern; 
 The ivied shrine, in grace and grandeur mouldec". 
 
 The cromlech stern. 
 The tall, slim tower of aspect weird and hoary, 
 
 With dream and rann,* 
 Full-crested in its lone and silent glory 
 
 Fronting the naked siin. 
 
 '■ Traditionary lore-
 
 6S OUR OLDEN TONGUE. 
 
 IT. 
 Thou bring'st bright visions, bardic strains enchanting, 
 
 Attuned in lordly halls; 
 The clash of spears, the banners gaily flaunting 
 
 On palace walls. 
 "NVhite-bearded sages, warrior knights victorious — 
 
 A goodly throng — 
 In panoramic pomp of ages glorious, 
 
 Before us pass along. 
 
 T. 
 
 O'er wide blue plains we see the red deer bounding, 
 
 In flickering light and sun; 
 And on his track, ^-ith deep-toned bay resounding, 
 
 The wolf-hound dun — 
 Old mountains dim, dark forest, rock and river. 
 
 Those days are o'er ; 
 But shades and echoes people ye for ever. 
 
 And shall, till time is o'er ! 
 
 TI. 
 
 O tongue of all our greatness — all our sorrow — 
 
 Shalt thou, then, fail and fade ? 
 And leave the full hearts mute that ne'er can borrow 
 
 From stranger aid — 
 Fit utterance for those thoughts whose stormy clangor 
 
 Swells deep within. 
 The memories of our love, and hate, and anger, 
 
 ■Which nought from us can win. 
 
 vn. 
 Not so f thou hast not stemmed the floods of ages. 
 
 Nor braved a conqueror's sway. 
 Thou hast not writ upon the world's -wide pages. 
 
 To pass away. 
 Deep, deep thy root where never human power 
 
 May roach to spoil, 
 And soon ^n wealth of vernal loaf and flower, 
 
 Thou'lt deck the olden soil I
 
 FOR IRELXyS JLLT^ « 
 
 F 
 
 FOR IRELAND ALL 
 
 jiOPk Ireland all, is tlie tlinnclpr cnll, 
 > Fur Iifliiud and her salvation ; 
 
 Each, nerve and I'aouglit to tliC'Causo bo brou^-tt 
 
 In lowly oc lofty station, 
 For Ireland all, for Ireland all, 
 
 lu bok'tne,* or court or castle; 
 For Ireland all, or you surely fall — 
 
 Lady, and lord, and vassal 1 
 
 II. 
 
 'Gainst England all, 'gainst England all, 
 
 Sprang from the green old mother; 
 Ev'ry rank and .shade, be yon soon arrayed 
 
 For th'il <'ud to help each other. 
 •Gainst England all ! 'gainst England all ! 
 
 Up ! up ! all you Irish races, 
 Shall the English hoof trample down your roof, 
 
 And dwell in your ancient places ? 
 
 ni. 
 
 Oh, for Ireland all I oh, for Ireland all ! 
 
 "Whom an Irish soil has moulded; 
 Who have drunk her breath, on the hill and heath. 
 
 And are to her bosom folded. 
 Yon from her who caught every tone and thought, 
 
 And dwell in her inspiration, 
 Won't you aid her noM- ? Won't you save her now 
 
 And make her an Ii-isU nation ? 
 
 * Bohane, a liut.
 
 68 TO Mr PATRIOT BROTHERS. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Come, like gallant knights, for her glorious rights 
 
 On the muster liLld displaying 
 Each the hue and crest he likes- tlio best. 
 
 With his own brave banners swaying ! 
 Each the hue and crest that he likes the best. 
 
 Unto the Btniggle plighted. 
 And one and all, or to gain or fall. 
 
 In the holy cause united ! 
 
 TO MY PATRIOT BROTHERS, 
 
 I, 
 
 WHEN first we wake to that great thing, 
 The consciousness of power, 
 It is not 'mid the gales of spring, 
 
 Nor in the summer bower. 
 Stern the voice the truth to tell, 
 
 Hugged the hand to guide : 
 Bitter the stniggles of the soul — 
 By woe is manhood tried. 
 
 u. 
 
 And well, oh, well have we been tried, 
 
 And well have we endured ; 
 The burden of the day is o'er, 
 
 The triumph is secured. 
 Thou who hast seen thy stricken land 
 
 Nor felt thy heart to break, 
 Eemember, oh, remember, thou 
 
 Art living for her sake.
 
 OCR MEMORIES. 
 
 HI. 
 
 Thoiigh all be dark and cold around, 
 
 The germs are still within 
 Of love and hope and happiness, 
 
 And thon the fruit shalt win. 
 Though broods above the thnnder-cloud, 
 
 And spreads around the snow, 
 The smile of Heaven is still above. 
 
 Its fostering care below. 
 
 rv. 
 
 It is the holiest effort here 
 
 To triumph o'er despair ; 
 "What angel power thou mayest acqxiire 
 
 Who once that deed shalt dare. 
 Kemember, all the seeds of might 
 
 Are hid in suffering : 
 It is the iron casket of 
 
 The talismauic ring ! 
 
 OUR MEMORIES. 
 
 LET Tis take them to our hearts awhile, 
 The memories of our land ; 
 Though wrapped in woe and gloom they be, 
 
 Yet still they're proud and grand. 
 Those records old, like glowing gems 
 
 Set in the gold of song, 
 Are hoarded treasures still for us. 
 Through years of scorn and wrong.
 
 ta OUR MEMORIES. 
 
 II. 
 
 There are thousand themes of Ireland's soil 
 
 For Irish tongues to tell, 
 With paling checks, and flashing eyes, 
 
 And hearts that wildly swell. 
 Nor minstrel harp, nor poet pen 
 
 Had e'er a nobler field 
 Than thy old name, lerne dear. 
 
 Since far back time can yield ! 
 
 ni. 
 
 Heaven bless ye, great and good of yore, 
 
 For nil that ye have left ! 
 "Wc cling unto those lessons now, 
 
 "Wlien of all else bereft. 
 We heed them well, we heed them well, 
 
 In all their strength and light. 
 To teach us how to bear ourselves, 
 
 And fight the glorious fight. 
 
 rv. 
 
 Oh, praise to Brian's kingly namo 
 
 Through all the years gone by, 
 That lights with steady radiance 
 
 Our dark, tempestuous sk}' ! 
 And all the warrior chiefs of old 
 
 That noblj' strove and fought — 
 We feci that though we may be slaves. 
 
 It is not wc that ought ! 
 
 Yes, precious are the memories 
 Ye left, our fearless sires : 
 
 Do they not burn within the land 
 Like consecrated fires ?
 
 OCR MEMORIES. M 
 
 Bright beacons still remain for us, 
 
 Untired to journey by — 
 Not lit upon the lonely earth, 
 
 But shining in the skj'. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Say, -what shall be the memories 
 
 That \re will leave to giiido 
 Our children ? Shall their heritage 
 
 Bo infamy or pride ? 
 What are the thoughts that shall ariso 
 
 As agos piiss away ? 
 When, lingering on their fathers' name, 
 
 Oh, will they curse or pray ? 
 
 TII. 
 
 Shall they, enwrapped in Freedom's light, 
 
 Be nilers of the land. 
 With fearless arm protecting all 
 
 The rights that wo had planned ? 
 Or, shall they, ci-ushed by deep disgrace. 
 
 Be taunted and dL-lied, 
 As of a faint and braggart race 
 
 Who flourished, shrunk, and — lied ? 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Shall nations point to them and say' 
 
 " Their sires were Helots born ? 
 They vowed to break the stranger's chain. 
 
 And yet they were forsworn. 
 The good, the great, were in their ranks. 
 
 And yet they slunk awaj% 
 And serfs and slaves iipon the soil 
 
 Their chiltlren are to-day !"
 
 ea O'BRIEN. 
 
 O'BRIEN. 
 
 VTOT pronclcst, not highest, of them the true-hearted, 
 j\( Because of the name round which glory is set ; 
 Not worshipped and wept for, that heroes departed 
 
 May see in thy veins how their blood courses yet ; 
 No ! not for the rank of the stately Patrician 
 
 AVert thou crowned and enthroned as our hope and our trust > 
 But that quick at the wail of a suffering nation, 
 
 That rank and its mockeries thou'st dashed in the dust ! 
 
 n. 
 
 And forth from the class of the foe and the wronger 
 
 Didst come to the side of the weak and the few, 
 To raise thy right hand 'gainst the league of the stronger— 
 
 The Tribune, the Soldier, the Patriot true. 
 Everj' false social chain gallantly riving, 
 
 Right onward the nohle unbendingly trod, 
 To stand as a man, for humanity striving. 
 
 Before the high altar of Freedom and God. 
 
 m. 
 
 For this art thou honored, with honor unfading— 
 
 For this art thou mourned, silent, sternly and deep — 
 For this do we strive 'neath our thoughts' sombre shading 
 
 To raise up the soul that will struggle, not weep. 
 And some will reprove thee; yes, weakly ungrateful, 
 
 They test by the cold head thy grand kingly heart, 
 Whose proud throb repelling their " leniency " hateful, 
 
 Will scorn them and dare them, 'till Ufe's breath depart—
 
 •SIR CAHIB O'DOIIERTY. 63 
 
 IV. 
 
 Will take not the boon of the base and the coward, 
 
 Whose empire but stands as a lie and a cheat — 
 Whose powtr, that in pride o'er the ocean hath tower'd, 
 
 Now holds like assassin and bravo its seat; 
 i'or the sword of the soldier, the gibbet and dagger — 
 
 The fang of the snake for the lion's lund roar; 
 And the threat of the vain and the impotent bragger, 
 
 For scarlet-clad rapine resistless before ! 
 
 SIR CAHIR O'DOHERTY. 
 
 I. 
 
 BY the Spanish plumed hat and the costly attire, 
 And the dark eye that's blended of midnight and fire, 
 And the bearing and statiire so princely and tall, 
 Sir Cahir you'll know in the midst of them all. 
 
 n. 
 
 Like an oak on the land, like a ship on the sea, 
 Like the eagle above, strong and haughty is he ; 
 In the greenness of youth, yet he's crowned as his due, 
 With the fear of the false and the love of the true. 
 
 III. 
 Right fiercely he swoops on their plundering hordes, 
 Right proudly he dares them — the proud English lords; 
 And darkly you'll trace him by many a trail, 
 From the hills of the North, to the heart of the Pale — • 
 
 IT, 
 
 By red field and ruined keep and fire-shrouded hall, 
 By the ti-amp of the charger o'er buttress and wall, 
 By the courage that springs in the breach of despair. 
 Like the bound of the Uon erect from his lair.
 
 Si . THE RVIXED HOME. 
 
 T. 
 
 O'Neill find O'Donnell, Magnire and the rest, 
 Iliive Hheathed the sabre an;! lowered the cr< st; 
 0'('ahan is crushed and ^laeMahon is bound, 
 And Magenuis slinks after the foe like his hound ; 
 
 VI. 
 
 But high and nutriuimed o'er valley and he i.^'ht, 
 
 Soars the proud-sweeping pinion, so young in its flight — 
 
 The toil and the danger are braved all alone, 
 
 By the tierce-taloued falcon of old Inishowcn. * 
 
 VII. 
 
 And thus runs his story : he fought and he fell. 
 Young, honori d and br.ive — so the seanachies tell; 
 The foremost of those who have guarded the Green, 
 "When men wrote their names with the sword and the skein, t 
 
 THE RUINED HOME. 
 
 THE old man stood at his cottage door. 
 To see the home he loved once more ; 
 But the fire was quenched, and the roof-tree broke, 
 And the crumbling walls were black ^^•ith smoke. 
 
 n. 
 
 The weeds grew thick in the garden ground, 
 The crow and the magpie hopped arr)und ; 
 And the lew pale, scattered willow trees 
 Shivered and moaned in the evening breeze. 
 
 • Pronounce*! luisbown. t Skein, a wi-apon.
 
 THE KUIXED BOitE. 65 
 
 m. 
 
 The old man leaned on his staff, and said : 
 " I'm all alone — the rest are dead !" 
 And lie gazed awhile with a vacant eye, 
 For he looked far back in the time gone by. 
 
 IV. 
 
 He heard the langh, and he heard the song, 
 And he saw the children round him throng ; 
 While the yellow dog, with the curly tail, 
 Ban, barking, the joyous group to hail. 
 
 T. 
 
 There he'd sat — 'twas a pleasant scene — 
 The cow was grazing upon the green ; 
 Within the hum of the wheel was heard. 
 Without the chiip of the little bird. 
 
 VI. 
 
 He thought of thjRn, and he thought of now : 
 There was the change — he mutter'd how 
 " The poor man, sure, could not pay the rich, 
 So his only home was the road and the ditch !" 
 
 VII, 
 
 He stood to pray at the master's gate, 
 And the master's son rode out in state ; 
 And he heanl the curse and he heard the scoff 
 That bade him " Off, to the workhouse, off !" 
 
 vin. 
 They wandered first through the world vndo ; 
 Some of them bowed their heads and died. 
 The rest of them sought the pauper shed : 
 •' Where are they now ?" "At rest," he said. 
 
 ix. 
 
 And the old man had come to his cottage door, 
 To look on the home he loved once more. 
 Then I heard him pray. What asked he there ? — 
 A broken heail has but one prayer !
 
 68 A SCEye FOB IRELAND. 
 
 A SCENE FOR IRELAND, 
 
 I. 
 
 IT was a wild and rainy day, 
 The last of dark December's — 
 A ragged " pauper," drooping, lay 
 
 Above the dying embers : 
 The drops fell from the rotting roof, 
 
 Marking the hours so dreary, 
 
 The hungry children stood aloof, 
 
 Pallid, and cold, and weary. 
 
 Sad was the wTetched mother's brow. 
 
 Her baby's wailings hushing : 
 She has no food to give it now 
 
 Save those h<jt tears outgushing. 
 Colder and colder blew the wind, 
 
 Louder the dark rain plashes ; 
 And dimmer grows the fire behind 
 
 The heavy pile of ashes. 
 
 m. 
 
 Far, far away, with pearls and gold 
 
 My Lady's hair is gleaming ; 
 For every gem our eyes behold 
 
 A crimson drop is streaming ! — 
 For all the grace of silks and laco 
 
 Some wretches naked shiver ; 
 For every smile upon her face 
 
 Some death-blue lips will quiver !
 
 A SCENE FOR JRELASD. 67 
 
 IV. 
 
 There's not a scene of lordly pride, 
 
 (Did Heaven's good light illuniine), 
 But we should know had, far and wide, 
 
 Its meed of victims human. 
 "We drain, perchance, some life away 
 
 From out the sparkling chalice — 
 Some humble home in ruins lay, 
 
 Decking the gilded palace ! 
 
 V. 
 
 Black thoughts come from the Famine Fiend — 
 
 He whispers low and stealthy — 
 " The poor man has no law or friend; 
 
 'Tis not so with the wealthy ! 
 'Tis hard to see God's lights above, 
 
 While clouds and darkness bound us ; 
 'Tis hard to hear God's words of love 
 
 With storms like those around us." 
 
 VI. 
 
 " Pray ! pray !" so says the devotee, 
 
 " Thus is temptation warded :" 
 Ah, little prayer had guided thet. 
 
 Perchance, not gold-enguarded. 
 It is an easy thing to pray, 
 
 No want or sorrow knowing — 
 It is an easy thing to say, 
 
 " I praise God for bestowing." 
 
 VII. 
 
 Within your hand the gilded book. 
 
 Upon the cushion kneeling ; 
 And in your home no word nor look, 
 
 One Geyser spring unveiling. — 
 But try to pray, and try to love, 
 
 Pain-wTung and soul-degraded — 
 The LoKD God judges " crime " above. 
 
 But not as man has weighed it.
 
 68 
 
 COURAGE. 
 
 OUR AGE. 
 
 T)ISE, sinking sla-ve, he strong and brave? 
 \j It is the final hour : 
 The boldest to be bolder still, 
 
 The -weak no more to cower — 
 To press upon them nerve and bone, 
 
 Of failing not a breath — 
 To stand before them, face to face. 
 For Vengeance or for Death ! 
 
 n. 
 
 My soul like mountain torrent swells, 
 
 AVith Erin's love and -wTong ; 
 To dare the tyrant to the last. 
 
 My heart is true and strong. 
 O God ! that tears -will fall like rain. 
 
 And vengeance yet be still, 
 While battle strife around is rife. 
 
 And wildest passions thrill. 
 
 in. 
 
 Go ! talk no more in whining tone- 
 Come, raise the warlike cry ; 
 
 My countrymen, 'tis harder far 
 To live, than nobly die ! 
 
 To live in chains, in bitter pains, 
 The thought for ever shun ! 
 
 In one short hour, by valor's power, 
 Or fame— or Ileaven is won.
 
 THE OUTLAW. 68 
 
 IV, 
 
 The angels are the mourners sweet, 
 
 Above the soldier's bed ; 
 God's brightest smile is on the spot 
 
 "Where patriot blood is shed. 
 The curse of Heaven, the shame of earth 
 
 Is on the willing slave — 
 Dishonored life, dishonored death, 
 
 And darkness-shrouded grave ! 
 
 THE OUTLAW. 
 
 MY love is away o'er the hill and the steep, 
 Where the sea-eagle screams and the deer wildly leap ; 
 He wanders alone through each dark desert hunnt 
 With a heart and a bearing no danger can daunt. 
 
 II. 
 He walks like a true man, with sword by his side — 
 
 For daring he loves as the face of his bride ; 
 He dared them with nximbers— the stniggle was vain — 
 
 Unaided, that strong heart new dares them again. 
 
 in. 
 My chieftain and lord, how my thoughts fly to you ! 
 
 With worship and love that is worthy and true ; 
 I smile for your glory, I weep for your wrong, 
 
 I think and I dream of you, soul of my song ! 
 
 IV, 
 
 I'd roam at your side through the rock and the wild, 
 Where danger is darkest, and joy never smiled — 
 
 The spring and the summer IJd find in my love. 
 All peace and all bhss wheresoe'er he would rove.
 
 70 THE MEN IX JAIL FOR IRELAND. 
 
 Y. 
 
 "We'd sit in the shade of the fair mountain ash, 
 
 Where the storm fiercely sweeps and the rude toiTents dash 
 
 "We'd talk of our love, still so time and so warm, 
 That aught of misfortune, no, never, could harm. 
 
 YI. 
 
 "We'd cling but the closer when danger was near ; 
 
 We'd smile hut the fonder when all seemed most drear : 
 We'd treasure each hour that so kindly flew by, 
 
 And left us together to live or to die ! 
 
 THE MEN IN JAIL FOR IRELAND. 
 
 Air — " Irish Molly O." 
 I. 
 
 COME, shrink not back with coward fears, 
 Nor brag as cowards do. 
 Nor make lament in words and tears 
 
 For these, our Patriots true. 
 But treasure deep within your breast 
 
 The oath, through good or ill, 
 To stand to them while life shall last^ 
 The men in Pentouvillo ! 
 
 II. 
 
 Yes ! vengeance is the hero's grief, 
 
 And that be ours alone ; 
 Our vow should bo but stern and brief, 
 
 Yet knit with V^lood and bone. 
 We'll cuon them best when through the land, 
 
 Our war-cry echoes shrill, 
 With gun on shoulder, pike in hand — 
 
 The men in Pentonville !
 
 THE MEN AY JAIL FOR IRELAND. 71 
 
 III. 
 
 Cold dastards we— could auglit to-day 
 
 Our footsteps turn aside, 
 A moment, from the sacred way 
 
 Which they have trod with pride. 
 All rough and blood-stained though it bo 
 
 Yet we will follew still 
 Upon their track, right fearlessly— 
 
 The men in Pentonville ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 Full well they showed their hardihood, 
 
 Ay ! in the felon's dock ; 
 Erect — unswerving — there they stood 
 
 As firm as Cashel's rock. 
 They laughed to scorn the tyrant's might, 
 
 In words that burn and thrill 
 Through every heart that loves the right — 
 
 The men in Pentonville ! 
 
 V. 
 
 Then keep the watch, my brothers all. 
 
 Let not your courage fail ; 
 "Within the gloomy prison wall 
 
 They do not flinch or quail ! 
 If power there be in love or hate, 
 
 'Twill not be long until 
 The time will come for which they wait — 
 
 The men in Pentonville ! 
 
 VI. 
 
 A cruel grasp is on their throats. 
 
 Our gallant Spartan band ; 
 A tiger vengeance o'er them gloats, *''»' 
 
 As o'er their suffering land. 
 God keep them in their hour of need ! 
 
 God guard them— and he will ! — 
 To reap the crop, who sowed the seed — 
 
 The men in Pentonville !
 
 73 THE M.UD OF LOUGH IN A. 
 
 THE MAID OF LOUGH INA 
 
 UPON Lough Ina's lonely shore 
 She sat heKide the cottage door, 
 And round and round the light wheel flew, 
 As swift as the slender threads she drew, 
 And, ah ! my fate she spun it too i 
 
 ir. 
 She spun the thread of snowy white, 
 All flecked with gleams of golden light ; 
 And as her small foot tapped the ground, 
 And swift the wheel went round and round, 
 My heart went with it firmly bound. 
 
 ni. 
 Upon me flashed the sweet surprise 
 Of those pure, modest, changeful eyes : 
 Her face before me drooping low. 
 As fair as apple blossoms show — 
 Now flushed to rose, now jmled to snow. 
 
 iv. 
 And turning round, with glances shy, 
 And voice like breezes murmuring by. 
 Her red lips sought -wilh gracious mind 
 A word of greeting soft and kind, 
 For me, the stranger guest, to find. 
 
 V. 
 
 And, oh, the thread she spun so deft 
 Was woven then both warp and weft ; 
 And in that web of colors fair. 
 Wrought by enchantments rich and rare, 
 My thread of life ran everywhere.
 
 BRIDGET CnmSE m CAROLAN. 
 
 1i3 
 
 VI. 
 
 I lingered by Lough Ina's shore; 
 Of home and friends I thought no more— 
 Her hair in tendrils bright that hung, 
 Were chains to bind me close and sArong, 
 And so the sweet days sped along. 
 
 VII. 
 
 We heard the fairy numbera «5well. 
 Around us closed the magic spell ; 
 And all the rosy, laughing hours, 
 From out their amaranthine bowers. 
 Flew by us, wreathed in light and flowers. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Two souls there were at length that came. 
 Each unto each by Love's own claim ; 
 As on the bough two dew-drops lone 
 la tender light together shone, 
 Drew nearer — trembled — and were one ! 
 
 BRIDGET CRUISE TO CAROLAN. 
 
 I. 
 
 BY fairy rath and haunted dell ___ 
 
 I seek, asthore, for thee, «BL. 
 
 In fear some sweet, unpitying spell ^^Iw 
 
 May steal thee far from me. 
 With sunny smiles to win thy love. 
 
 With gentle words to bind, 
 More bright than aught thy dreams are of, 
 Is that thou leavest behind.
 
 n nnwGET cruise to carolan. 
 
 n. 
 
 There's gladness in tlie morning sky. 
 
 And music in the stream, 
 Soft fragrance in the breeze's sigh, 
 
 And glory in the beam. 
 And rest beneath the greenwood tree ; 
 
 But better far than all. 
 The wild, deep love that holds for thee 
 
 My heart in endless thrall ! 
 
 nr. 
 
 X listen to the floods that pour 
 
 From that sweet fount of song, 
 And bathe my spirit o'er and o'er. 
 
 As thus they roll along. 
 I look upon the di'oopiug lid 
 
 That veils those darkened eyes, 
 And think how Heave n is from us hid 
 
 By yon enshrouding skies I 
 
 rsr. 
 
 Still to that loved face gazing up 
 
 I sit in homage far, 
 An humble flower that opes its cup 
 
 With incense to a star. 
 Oh, flies the wild bird to the bough, 
 
 The river to the sea, 
 The red deer up the mountain brow, 
 
 ^VnJ this fond heart to theo !
 
 TO THE SaANNON. 75 
 
 TO THE SHANNON. 
 
 I. 
 
 MY own sweet river Shantion, tliou comest a long, long way 
 To cheer mo in my lonely home, with smile so fond and gay. 
 Thj' silver wavu has wandered 'mid many a pleasant scene, 
 Through smiling plains and valleys all flowing bright and green, 
 And by the proud-arched ruins bathed in Time's mellow glow, 
 Where, with an emerald radiance, old trees droop down below, 
 And where blight, genth; memories a softened odor shed 
 Of lofty deeds and ancient names long numbered with the dead ! 
 
 II. 
 On through the haunts where mingle the passion and the strife 
 That sweep in angry surges through our ever-varyiug life ; 
 But still through all thy wanderings thou'st come at last to me, 
 My own sweet river Shannon, a welcome unto thee. 
 The fair, white lilies smiling upon thy azure breast 
 Within their broad leaves' shelter, are hushed in tender rest, 
 And from the clustering hazel-trees that fringe thy banks along 
 There comes through all the summer eve the thrush and black- 
 bird's song. 
 
 III. 
 High over thee are bending Slievebouchta's hills in pride, 
 A.5 onward to the sunny south thy kingly waters glide — 
 The south ! — the noble, heroic south ! — 'tis there thdu'lt find the 
 
 true, 
 The brave and loyal-hearted that former ages knew. 
 The hands and hearts that still defend their country's sacred 
 
 cause. 
 And rise undauntedly against the oppressor and his laws. ffl|k 
 
 My own sweet river Shannon, now hurrying to the sea, ^|p 
 
 Oh, lose not in its mighty depths the love I give to thee ; 
 For I, when Time shall launch me, too, on Life's tempestuous 
 
 wave, 
 Shfill cease not to remember thee, save in the silent grave !
 
 76 A WELCOME. 
 
 w 
 
 A W E L C O M E . 
 
 [FEOMTBE lEISH.] 
 
 "ITTELCOME, again, as the May's scented blossom ! 
 \ \ Welcome, again, to yonr home in this bosom ! 
 Oh ! for the sweet blessed hour that has brought you 
 Back to the arms that so long, long have sought you ! 
 Welcome, oh, welcome the wild ringing laughter. 
 Tears than the evening dew sweeter and softer. 
 Music and light in my soul's depth o'erflowing, 
 Pulses that throb — color coming and going — 
 
 Whispere that none but my loved one shall Usten, 
 
 Glances where every fond secret shall gUsten, 
 
 Clasping of hands that have long been asunder, 
 
 IJearts overflo\\-ing with rapture and wonder. 
 
 Thoughts like the young leaves so joyously dancing, 
 
 When warm sun and sweet winds around them are glancing ! 
 
 Joy for me, joy ! — for you never \\\\\ leave me ; 
 
 And now there is nought on the \vide earth to grieve me. 
 
 in. 
 
 Glad as the bird up the summer-vault singing, 
 Light as the bough with its gay blossom springing. 
 Bright us the gold sparks that glisten and quiver, 
 At morning or eve on the breast of the river — 
 Calm as the child in its soft slumber lying ; 
 Blest as the saint to his home above flying — 
 Fiilfd with a love ever thrilling and burning, 
 S'> am I now at my darling's returning !
 
 THE LEPRECHAVN. W 
 
 THE LEPRECHAUN.* 
 
 OH, the lonely, qiiiet glen, 
 Where the hazel trees are green, 
 And, among the bushes hiding, 
 The humble stream is gUding, 
 Murmuring as in reverie. 
 The long, long day, so tranquilly. 
 
 n. 
 
 Where the blackberries droop low. 
 
 Whore gleams the glossy sloe, 
 
 And nuts are clustering brown 
 
 On thick branches, drooping down; 
 
 And, sometimes, soft and clear is heard 
 
 The music of the sweet blackbird. 
 
 III. 
 
 There, when the sun is low, 
 
 A tapping noise doth come and go; 
 
 'Tis the Leprechaun at his last, 
 
 At which he raps away so fast. 
 
 He wears a cocked hat on his head, 
 
 And. a tiny coat of scarlet red, 
 
 rv. 
 
 Oft so quickly and so keen. 
 
 Bright his glance around is seen; 
 
 And if a mortal he espies. 
 
 Quick as lightning then he flies, 
 
 And naught of him can you then trace 
 
 Within that lonely, sileut place. 
 
 % 
 
 * The Irish Fairy Shoemaker.
 
 W TIP PER ART. 
 
 T. 
 
 Oh, coukl j'oii steal upon, 
 And catch fast the Leprechaun, 
 You might win the gold so rare, 
 Stores of which he's hid somewhere. 
 When the tap! tap! tap! you hear, 
 Steal quietly and slowly near. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Some soft balmy evening, when 
 The sun is sinking in the glen. 
 As the fairy workman plies. 
 Quickly spring and seize the prize. 
 And ask him then the spot to show 
 "Where bright the hidden treasures glow. 
 
 vn. 
 Look not round, or then is gone 
 From your grasp the Leprechaun ; 
 And his mocking laugh you'll hear 
 Ringing 'round so strange and clear. 
 Oh, keep your hand and eye upon 
 The little, wily Leprechaun! 
 
 TIPPERARY. 
 
 # 
 
 I. 
 
 WERE you ever in sweet Tipperary, where the fields are bo 
 sunny and green, 
 And the heath-brown Slieve Bloom and the Galtccs look down 
 
 with so proud a mien ? 
 Oh, 'tis there you would see more beauty than is on all Irish 
 
 ground: 
 God bless you, my sweet Tipperary, for where could your match 
 be found ?
 
 TIP PER ART, 73 
 
 II. 
 
 They say that your hand is fearful, that darkness is in your eye; 
 But I'll not let them dai-e to utter so bitter and "black a lie. 
 Oh, no, viacushla sthoirin, bright, bri^'ht and warm are you, 
 ^With hcait as bold as the men of old, to yourselves and your 
 country true 1 
 
 HI. 
 
 And when there is gloom upon you, bid them think who has 
 
 brought it there; 
 Sure, a frown or a word of hatred were not made for your face 
 
 so fair. 
 You've a hand for the grasp of friendship, another to make them 
 
 quake. 
 And they're welcome to whichsoever it pleases them most to take. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Shidl our homes, like the huts of Connaught, be crumbled before 
 
 OTU" eyes ? 
 Shall we fly, like a flock of wild geese, from all that we love and 
 
 prize ? 
 No; by those who were here before us:! no chtirl shall oui 
 
 tyrant be — 
 Our land it is theirs by plunder, but, by Brigid ! ourselves are 
 
 free ! 
 
 V. 
 
 We ne'er can forget the greatness did once to our isle belong ; 
 
 No traitor or craven spirit was ever our race among. 
 
 And no frown or no word of hatred we give— but to pay them 
 
 back : 
 In evil we only follow our enemy's darksome -track J 
 
 XI. 
 Oh, come for awhile among us, and, give us the friendly hand. 
 And you'U see that old Tipperary is a loving and gladsome land 
 From Upper to Lower Ormond bright welcomes and smUes will 
 
 spring : 
 On the plains of Tipperary the stranger is like a kingi
 
 W LOUGB-A-SEOLA. 
 
 LOUGII-A-SEOLA.* 
 
 ^rpiS a beantiful spot -where the bilberries grow, -¥ 
 
 J[ Down by the caku lake's side ; 
 And quietly in the long rushes below 
 The shy little waterfowl hide. 
 There tlaggers are peeping. 
 And sunbeams are sleeping. 
 And white flowers wave to and fro. 
 Oh, a beautiful spot is that silver lake side, 
 ^Vhere the ripe, ruddy bilbenics grow 1 
 
 n. 
 
 There's a wee, fairy isle resting on that bright lake. 
 
 Silently musing alone ; 
 And softly around it the blue waters break 
 With a musical whisijer and moan. 
 
 From the past, dim and hoary. 
 Comes a shadowy glory 
 Of legend, and story, and song ; 
 But through all the years that have faded and flown - 
 Smiles that green isle, stUl blooming and yoimg ! 
 
 m. 
 Once round those shores, where the evening breeze sighs, 
 
 Hath the foot of the warrior prest, 
 And banners have waved where the wild-duck now flies 
 To her home in the sedge-covered nest. 
 How fair the portraying 
 Of fancy thus playing. 
 While shines out the sun, low and mellow, 
 Transmuting thy breast that lies softly at rest. 
 From bright silver to gold, sweet Lough-Seola ! 
 
 •Pronounced Laugh-a- Sella. liOugh-a-Seola, or lake of the " sally " or wil- 
 low treeB, iu Bituated near Uc-adford, in tbo county of Galway, Ireland.
 
 PRINCESS DLAXMB. SI 
 
 PRINCESS BLANAID.* 
 
 T. 
 
 FAIEY-GIFTED are my fingers as Qiey touch the trembling 
 ■string, 
 And strangely sweet my voice, ihey say, like heavenly bells thai 
 
 ring, 
 As in those halls of splendor her beauty 's praise I sing — 
 The praise of Princess Blanaid, the daughter of iho king, 
 
 n. 
 
 If I said her face was fairer than the dawning of the day, 
 
 And her cheek more fresh and glowing than the blossoms of the 
 May, 
 
 And more hthe her form and slender than the ash-bough's grace- 
 ful play. 
 
 And statelier than the bounding deer upon the mountain grey — 
 
 in. 
 
 If I said her eyes had stolen the summer's midnight blue, 
 With all the glory in their depths of summer starUght too ; 
 And like a black, black river her hau- of ebon hue. 
 That down in mazy, rii)ioUug waves unto her white feet grew — 
 
 IV. 
 
 That her breath was far more balmy than the r'llloge's rich 
 
 perfume, 
 iind brighter than the rosy heath her tender virgin bjoom ; 
 And silvery sweet her voice, and low, as birds at evening sing — 
 'Twould be only true of Blanaid, <he daughter of the king. 
 
 * Pronounced, Blana.
 
 82 THE BOLT WELL, 
 
 T. 
 
 Ah, that I, her father's minstrel, should but dare to dream Iho 
 
 dream 
 That sends with lightning speed along my heart's red-rushing 
 
 stream, 
 And makes the hidden light within flash up into mine- eyes, 
 Perchance revealing to the crowd what I would fain disguise. 
 
 n. 
 Alas ! for all the madness, the rapture and the pain, 
 That may speak in murmurs only, for all words were wild and 
 
 vain ! 
 In the silence and the midnight of my soul alone I sing 
 Of my love for Princess Blanaid, the daughter of the king. 
 
 TH. 
 But to tell the winds my story, and the lonely stars and moon, 
 And the music streams and whispering trees through the golden 
 
 nights of June, 
 And she but there beside mo, within the greenwood ring — 
 The beauteous Princess Blanaid, the daughter of the king. 
 
 THE HOLY WELL. 
 
 I. 
 
 ^rpWAS a very lonely spot, with beech trees o'er it drooping ; 
 J_ The waters gleamed beneath 
 
 Those fair green branches, lowly stooping — 
 " Bcnedicite !" seemed to breathe. 
 
 n. 
 
 A deep and tender light came through the green leaves peeping, 
 Where tiny insects dreamed; 
 A holy calm on all was sleeping. 
 The sunHght drowsy seemed.
 
 THE HOLT WELL. 83 
 
 ni. 
 
 Oh, the silence there that dwelt, fast in a trance it bound you ; 
 There niunniared manj' tones 
 That crept inaumerable round you — • 
 Low whisperings and moans. 
 
 IV. 
 
 In that little silvery well how many tears fell heavy 1 
 What homage there was poured I 
 To Mary, sweet, how many an Av& 
 Sought for her saving word ! 
 
 V. 
 
 I strayed one evening calm to this low shining water : 
 The Virgin there might be — 
 So lovely looked it, you'd have thought her 
 Guarding it tenderly. 
 
 VI. 
 
 When through the silence there some one I heard a-praying, 
 (A poor " dark "* girl was she) — 
 Upon her bare knees she was swaying. 
 Telling her rosary. 
 
 vn. 
 Oh, that little maiden sweet, fair-haired she was and slender *, 
 Her sad smile ht the place. 
 Her blue-cloak hood had fallen, and tender 
 'Neath it gleamed her face. 
 
 vni. 
 " She-the-vah .'" ] she murmuring said, " O Queen of power and 
 meekness, 
 
 Let me but see the light ; 
 My mother droops with age and sickness : 
 For her sake, give me sight ! 
 
 * Blind. t Hail to thee.
 
 B4 GLENMALOE. 
 
 IS. 
 "Oh, my weeny sister's gone, and we're left alone and pining- 
 Bnt two in this world wide ; 
 If I could greet the fair sun shining, 
 And be her stay and guide !" 
 
 You'd think blind Bridgh did see the face of the Almighty, 
 So radiant was her face ; 
 Through the deep darkness of her lught. Ho 
 Poured out the light of grace ! 
 
 XI. 
 
 Just hke a saint she seemed, His pleasure waiting only : 
 I could not choose, but weep, 
 And join her in that shrine so lonely, 
 Breathing petitions deep ! 
 
 GLENMALOE. 
 
 [FBOU TH£ ibish]. 
 
 WHEIIE is the blackbird singing 
 The live-long day ? 
 Where is the clear stream linging, 
 
 This golden May ? 
 Ah ! I know where the bird is singing, 
 And I know where the stream is ringing, 
 For my heart to that spot is clingii.^. 
 Far, far away !
 
 GLENMALOE. 85 
 
 n. 
 
 Lightly the silver-rushes * 
 
 WavG to and fro ; 
 Thick are tho hazel bushes, 
 
 Black the sloe ; 
 Sweet are the winds that whistle, 
 Green arc the boughs that rxistle, 
 There, where the wild birds nestle. 
 
 In Glenmaloe ! 
 
 m. 
 
 Faint are the murmurs humming. 
 Through breeze and stream, 
 
 Dim are tho shadows coming — 
 A fairy dream ! 
 
 Harp notes are heard to tingle, 
 
 Voices of spirits mingle. 
 
 Deep in each hollow dingle. 
 Where violets gleam ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 Ah ! but tho years are dreary, 
 
 Since long ago — 
 Ah ! but this heart is weary, 
 
 Sweet Glermaloe ! 
 Thuiking of visions faded. 
 Lightsome and glad that made it- 
 Hopes that for aye are shaded, 
 
 So weU I know ! 
 
 V. 
 
 Still is the blackbird singing 
 
 Tho live-long day ; 
 Still are the waters ringing 
 
 This golden May — 
 
 *The Meadow-sweet, called in Irish " Silver-reed.
 
 86 DT TEE WEST. 
 
 But, ah ! not for me that singing, 
 Nor tho stream with its silver ringing, 
 Though my heart to that^spot is chngjng 
 Far, far away ! 
 
 IN THE WEST. 
 
 X. 
 
 ACROSS the lone wild wave the breezes play, 
 All filled with fragrance from another clime- 
 Another clime, whose skies are soft and grey, 
 
 As heavy with the storied mists of time — 
 With subtle sweetness through the summer air 
 Still float around a thousand golden dreams : 
 A host of memories, pale and sad and fair, 
 FromJilrie of the ever-voiceful streams. 
 
 n. 
 
 There in the West, in sparkling crystal chains, 
 
 The lovely lakes in sun and shadow lie ; 
 Where lordly Milrea * in his grandeur reigns, 
 
 A frowning monarch towering to the sky ; 
 And there a hundred gi-een lone islets smile, 
 
 Each with its ivied ruiu or Oghum t stone — 
 From dim tradition who may ever wile 
 
 The mystic stories of those ages gone ? 
 
 ni. 
 
 The drowsy mists of June are full of balm. 
 The shadows fly across the spreading plain, 
 
 And 'mid the sun and blue of Summer calm 
 We taste a beauty which is almost pain. 
 
 • The highPHt of the monntains in /ar-Connaught. 
 t 0^/ium— The Druidic Alphabet.
 
 MURMURS. 87 
 
 Deep bowls of verdure in the mountain side, 
 Give us to. quaff of peace and rest and cool, 
 
 'Neatb clouds of deepest blue and amber dyed, 
 With culled fiinge of Boft and snowy wool. 
 
 IV. 
 
 There grows all peaceful on the boggy lawn 
 
 The ijurple heath and rilloge * clustering low, 
 The lusmore t and the sno%vy canavan \, 
 
 The waving ash, where crimson berries grow. 
 I hear the music of the singing rills, 
 
 Tripping with silvery feet upon their way 
 Adown the bronzed crags, the heathy hills, 
 
 Until they die in spirit sighs away. 
 
 MURMURS. 
 
 [FBO>[ THE IBISB] 
 I. 
 
 THE stars are watching, the winds are playing, 
 They see me kneeling, they see me praying, 
 They hear mo still through the long night saying 
 Asthore machree, I love yon, I love you ! 
 
 n. 
 
 And, oh ! with no love that is light or cheerful. 
 But deep'ning on its shadow fearful, 
 "Without a joy that is aught but tearful — 
 'Tis thus I love you, I love you ! 
 
 * JJ»7Zo^«— Bog Myrtle, i Lusmore — Foxglove, t Canauan— Bog Cotton.
 
 MURMURS. 
 
 m. 
 
 "Wliisp'ring still with those -ffhispcrs broken, 
 Spcuking ou what cuu uo'cr be spoken, 
 "Were all the voices of earth awoken, 
 
 Oh, how I love you, I love you ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 "With all my heart's most passionate throbbing, 
 With wild emotion and wearisome sobbing. 
 Love and hght from all others robbing. 
 So well I love yon, I love you ! 
 
 "With the low, faint murmurs of deep adoring, 
 And voiceless blessingfi forever pouring, • 
 And sighs that fall wth a sad imploring : 
 
 'Tis I who love you, who love you ! 
 
 vr. 
 
 With the burning, beatmg, the inward hushing, 
 Ever and ever in music gushing . 
 Like mystic tones from the seti-shell rushing— 
 'Tis strangely I love you, I love you 1 
 
 ■VII. 
 
 Thoy pass mo dancing, thoy puss me singing, 
 While night and day o'er the cartli arc winging, 
 But I sit here, to my trance still clinging, 
 For, oh, I love you, I love you !
 
 BIDDY. 89 
 
 BIDDY. 
 
 z. 
 
 OVER the wash-tiib and the suds, 
 Poor Biddy stoops iu shabby duds ; 
 And, through her work, you'll hear the croon 
 Of some low, plaintive Irish tune — 
 Untidy Biddy ! 
 
 II. 
 
 But touching, sooth, they arc to mo, 
 The suds, the song— ah ! Bridgh 3Iachree— 
 They bring me back some thousand mile. 
 To one sweet, darling, verdant isle. 
 
 Heav'n bless you, Biddy ! 
 
 m. 
 There rises up the cabin small. 
 With roof of thatch, and low mud 'wall. 
 The stagnant pool before the door, 
 The grunting pig upon the floor — 
 
 You know them, Biddy ! 
 
 IT. 
 
 But far beyond the mud, and all, 
 I see the mountains grand and tall, 
 The beech and hawthorn in theii- bloom — 
 The spot where lies my mother's tomb. 
 In Ireland, Biddy ! 
 
 v. 
 
 Not over neat, my Irish girl. 
 You may seem to the English churl ; 
 Your blue eyes and your coal-black hair, 
 lie may not think a couti-ast fair ; 
 But I do, Biddy I
 
 90 
 
 BIDDY. 
 
 VI. 
 
 I like the tender light and shade 
 That blend in yoii, my pretty maid ; 
 The laughter and the tears in one, 
 The lovely brogue of richest tone, 
 From l.dtrim, Biddy '. 
 
 YII. 
 
 Your cooking is not good, they say, 
 And Britons can't endure your -way ; 
 You can't appreciate that art, 
 So dear to every John Bull's heart, 
 Unhappy Biddy I 
 
 vra. 
 
 And when my feelings oft arc hurt 
 By hints that you've no eye for dirt. 
 I answer back : " Indeed, may be ; 
 But she's an ear for melody "— 
 Unlike tliem, Biddy ! 
 
 IS. 
 
 You're perverse— so they say, my girl ; 
 'Tis many a charge at you they huii ; 
 Tum'd upside down, and here and there, 
 You'll never make things neat and sciuai 
 No method, Biddy ! 
 
 Fertile your fancy in its play, 
 I've marvelled at it day by day ; 
 In uses you for objects find, 
 For which they never were designea— 
 Ingenious Biddy !
 
 TRIXITT WELL. 91 
 
 ZI. 
 
 What ctiriouf? tilings you sometimes do ! 
 I can't deny it, nor can you. 
 Most wonderful it is, and strange 
 How widely your inventions range — 
 For instance, Biddy : 
 
 XII. 
 
 My Shakespeare, bound in cloth of gold, 
 You've put the window frame to hold ; 
 I've seen you— still more dreadful trick !— 
 With bottle for a candlestick, 
 
 Near curtains, Biddy ! 
 
 xra. 
 But with such sins upon your part, 
 You keep the pure, proud Irish heart ; 
 You're true to country and to God, 
 As when you walked your native sod — 
 My faithful Biddy ! 
 
 XIV. 
 
 The Queensland snn may leave its trace, 
 And Erin's milky hue deface ; 
 But spot or speck shall come in vain, 
 The whiteness of your soul to stain,. 
 O Irish Biddy I 
 
 TRINITY WELL.* 
 
 I. 
 
 DEEP in a lonely, silent dell, 
 Where green leaves clustering twine, 
 There is a little holy well — 
 The peasant's humble shrine. 
 
 * Tho Holy Well here alluded Is Bltuatfd in tho Devil's Glen, in tho County 
 of Wicklow. A largo ash tree, in thrco distinct trunks, grows at tbo head of 
 the well— henco tho name, " Trinity Well."
 
 92 TRINITY ^VELL. 
 
 , "Within its cliarmcd circle Ijonncl 
 
 What cU'carus and memories dwell ' 
 "What shades and echoes haunt the ground 
 Aronnd the Holy Well I 
 
 n. 
 
 How many a wild and simple tale 
 
 The votive offerings breathe, 
 Now idly flutt<,'rin;^' in the gale 
 
 Those arching honghs beneath ! 
 How many a wears' hope and fear 
 
 That tongue may never tell 
 Have hovered o'er thy waters clear. 
 
 Thou Uttle Holy Well ! 
 
 A gTiarled ash-tree droops above, 
 
 As pilgrims watch and pray, 
 With lifted arms of reverent love, 
 
 Trembling, and old and gray ; 
 Upon its seamed and rugged bark 
 
 Loved names are faintly seen — - 
 Bo faint, the eye can scarcely mark 
 
 Through moss and lichens grcenu 
 
 IV. 
 
 Ah ! thus, in sooth, it is with names 
 
 Once writ upon the heart, 
 .When Time brings forth new hopes and aims, 
 
 And bids the Past depart ; 
 Filled up with growth of strife and care, 
 
 Slow creeping, day by day. 
 The records graven deep that were. 
 
 Like these, are worn away.
 
 MT NHL BAlVy. W 
 
 lovclj', silent, crystal well ! 
 
 Earth's hopes and joys may fail ; 
 Bnt clearer as the mists dispel 
 
 The heavenly dawn we hail ; 
 And hero within thy hallowed shade, 
 
 'Mid svimmer sun and balm, 
 The soul's wild tumult's all are laid, 
 
 And we find ijeace and calm ! 
 
 MY NIAL BAWN. 
 
 HE has no gold but the gold that shines 
 In those bright, clustering tresses ; 
 There is neither rank nor power for him 
 "Whom this fond heart wildly blesses. 
 But, oh, there is truth and pride and love 
 
 For my Nial's kingly dower. 
 And never was king worshipped like to him 
 In the day of his highest power. 
 
 n. 
 
 I have no hope in the wide, wide world, 
 
 But all that's round him clinging ; 
 There's neither life nor joy for me 
 
 Unless from his fondness springing. 
 I never think of woe or pain — 
 
 Sure this life can bring no trial 
 When I know bright angels could guard me not 
 
 More tender and true than Nial !
 
 91 THE SKYLARK BY THE SnANA'OJV 
 
 HI. 
 
 His soiil is soft as a morn of May, 
 
 But strong as the deep, dark ocean, 
 With passion wild as the storm and flame 
 
 For deeds of a high devotion. 
 Oh, fierce and brave is my o^m dear love, 
 
 The wrong and the foe defying. 
 But low and sweet is his voice to me, 
 
 Like the breezes of evening sighing ! 
 
 rv. 
 
 Bright blessings fall on my Nial Bawn ' 
 
 Sure I know his love outpouring ; 
 And there's no joy on earth to me 
 
 Like the joy of thus adoring. 
 Oh, I have love— such deep, deep love !— 
 
 To fall in soft, freshening showers. 
 That all around will be bright and green 
 
 Through Ufe's long, golden hours ! 
 
 THE SKYLARK BY THE SHANNON. 
 
 X. 
 
 OBIED from the plume of green rushes 
 Exultant soaring, 
 Thy song-burst so fervidly pouring ■ 
 
 lu jubilant gushes 
 To morning's first sweet maiden blushes ! 
 O brown little Peri, up-springing ! 
 There is surely a soul in thy singing.
 
 IRISn AUTUMN EVE. 95 
 
 II. 
 
 My heart's wealth around theo art flinging 
 
 In showers of gladness, 
 In warbUngs of ecstatic madness, 
 
 Tumultuously ringing, 
 In thine own flood of harmony winging — 
 Striving on wth that passionate i^aining, 
 Life and love blent in rapturous straining. 
 
 iir. 
 
 In a whirl of music revolving. 
 
 In circles enchanted. 
 As if by the Infinite haunted, 
 
 Thou seemest dissolving, 
 Those magical numbers evolving. 
 Till, with spiral and quivering motion, 
 Thou near'st the blue, heavenly ocean. 
 
 rv. 
 
 O bird ! thou art floating and fading 
 
 On to th' Emi:)yrean ; 
 Through gold and vermilion and Tyi-ian 
 
 Dyes thou art wading. 
 Till oometh the stillness and shading ; 
 And soon, mth tho spirit land blended. 
 In a voice and a dream thou art ended ! 
 
 IRISH AUTUMN EVE. 
 
 I. 
 
 STILL and pale, as if in thought, 
 Tlao lono eve droops, with sadness fraught.; 
 And low clouds hang of gauzy gray, 
 In phantom figures vaguely wi'ought. 
 Dissolving dreamily away.
 
 96 A WAKiya. 
 
 II. 
 
 The dead leaves all are showering down, 
 Yellow and red, and orange and bro^vn — 
 
 They that once, in tender green, 
 Made the summer's lovely crown. 
 
 Now npon her grave are seen. 
 
 III. 
 
 Low the silver-leaved Abele 
 Sweeps forth its foliage to the gale ; 
 
 Its snowy sheen is glittering fair 
 Against ihe sky, all leaden i^ale. 
 
 And rings out music soft and rare. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Above the moxarnful, silent globe 
 The sun, in faded saffron robe, 
 
 Broods sadly o'er the -wTde decay ; 
 The winds rise up with plaintive sob, 
 
 Through tangled copses far away. 
 
 V. 
 
 There is a languid, drowsy breath, 
 As of a weird, wild dream of death ; 
 
 Inert and voiceless lieth all 
 The rounded space, as if beneath 
 
 A sombre, dense, funereal pall. 
 
 AWAKING. 
 
 [feom the iBian.] 
 
 1KX0W it now, I know it well, 
 The wave is not more true 
 The changes of the sky to tell 
 Than I each change in you.
 
 A WAKINQ. 97 
 
 Tho trembling cliords within my soul 
 
 Eing out a bocliiig ■svail ; 
 Yet how can love that years have fed 
 
 In one short moment fail ? 
 
 n. 
 
 For one false flash from beauty's eye, 
 
 Tor one sweet syren tone — 
 Ah ! hast thy fate, then, fleeted by ? 
 
 Thou — thou, my loved — mj' own ! 
 Hast thou, indeed, forgotten all 
 
 That vigil cold and long 
 Through -which we -watched, and -wept, and prayed ? 
 
 This — this were bitter wrong ! 
 
 m. 
 
 Tho perfumed play of summer wind 
 
 That idly sweeps the sea, 
 And recks not of the treasured hordes 
 
 That in its depths may be ; 
 The flitting sunbeam that ^vill smile 
 
 The trees and flowers upon — 
 Such wilt thou find the love that now 
 
 Thy heart from me has won. 
 
 IV- 
 
 I know that she is fair and young — 
 
 Her eye is bright, 'tis triic ; 
 Ilcr cheek the rose's bloom has on, 
 
 But tnxrue, grew pale for you. 
 Hope, joy and youth have passed away, 
 
 The spirit light and free ; 
 And dark and bitter is the thought 
 
 That all is lost for thee.
 
 08 KOSA^yji-A, 
 
 ROS ANNA * 
 
 I7AIR are the shades of Eosannn, 
 ' When the stmimer evenings fall. 
 And the heavens seem dropping niauna 
 
 On those -n'oodlauds dai'k and tall ; 
 Sweet is the silent glory 
 
 That streams from the sunset sty. 
 Through the beech-trees thick and hoary, 
 Where the soft %viuds gently die. 
 
 II. 
 
 Oh, sadly the hours have faded 
 
 Since last I looked on you ; 
 My soul in grief is shaded. 
 
 For lost is its mission true. 
 Instead of the morning gladness, 
 
 Now tempests and clouds arise, 
 And Life seems a dream of sadness, 
 
 "SYhere Hope in a ruin lies. 
 
 iix. 
 
 Oh, soft, bright woods of Kosanna, 
 
 Though my tears should fall like rain, 
 Through no sorrow or yeai-ning ever 
 
 A glimpse of you shall I gain, 
 I think of your sumn^er's glowing, 
 
 Of each flowery bank and plain. 
 Of your silvery streamlets flowing — 
 
 But — my longing is all in vain ! 
 
 * A beautiful 6pot in tho County Wicklow, Ireland.
 
 . A DREAM OF A DREAM. 99 
 
 A DREAM OF A DREAM. 
 
 [FBOM THE miBH]. 
 
 Oil, but for a moment only, and never and never more, 
 To sit in tlaine eyes' glad sunlight, my treasure of love to 
 pour ; 
 To breathe it in broken murmurs of rapture and Mild despair, 
 Ere its song and its joy, for ever, are drunk by the empty air ! 
 
 The Voice of my Dreams is dying, so mournfully, day by day. 
 Like the sound of those distant waters that glide from the earth 
 
 away. 
 Ah ! faint as the faiut bells ringing, in silence within the ear ! 
 And dim as the wavering moonbeam the hopes of my life appear. 
 
 m. 
 
 The spell of the Minstrel's Clairseach, his power and his 
 
 visions — aU 
 To the winds of the dreary Winter in stillness and son-ow fall ; 
 Pass out in this tearful sighing — those throbs of a heart that 
 
 ne'er 
 Knew glory, or woe, or gladness, save that which thy love 
 
 brought there I 
 
 rv. 
 
 Oh, to tell thee the weary longing, like wild bird, in my breast, 
 That flies through the night and morning, yet knows not a place 
 of rest — 
 
 To whisper thee, sad and lowly, how dark is the world and cold. 
 And hear thee but give me, dearest, one word like the words of 
 old!
 
 100 WITT I SJN0. 
 
 V. 
 
 Si:ro the sun falls in sliadows only, since the hour you were torn 
 
 from mo ; 
 No flower in my breast hasblossom'd — ah, never, asthore niachree ! 
 No eye has shed joy upon me — no heart warm'd mine within : 
 The cold spot my bosom chiUing is cold at this hour as then ! 
 
 TI. 
 
 Come ! come ! can this deep devotion I pour from my soul to 
 
 thee 
 Not triumph o'er all, this moment, that severs thee far from me ? 
 Vain, vain ! O'er the troubled waters there cometh no word or 
 
 sign- 
 No voice comes with answering power — The dream of a dream is 
 
 mine ! 
 
 WHY I SING. 
 I. 
 
 I SING, I sing in many a strain, 
 But whence my song I cannot tell ; 
 I sing in gladness or in pain. 
 
 But know not whence the spell. 
 Why chirps the bird upon the tree ? 
 
 Why moans the wind in passing by ? 
 If they can tell thtjir art to ye. 
 Why, freely, so will I. 
 
 n. 
 
 The spray bounds upward to the sun, 
 
 The j-oung, green leaves will bud and blow, 
 The birds and I are singing on, 
 
 And — that is all I know ! 
 But ceaseless, ever, as the stream, 
 
 Th(.' little pipe plays humbly on, 
 In broken word or shapeless dream 
 
 Unlil the restless soul is flown !
 
 THE NEW TIME. 101 
 
 THE NEW TIME. 
 
 THE Icey-noto is struck of anollier time, 
 And vocul is earth with the strain sublime. 
 On throiigh the Universe, lo ! it is steahng, 
 With resonant rythm that music is pealing ; 
 Through worlds above, and through worlds below, 
 Through waves that glide, and through stars that glow ; 
 O'er wood and wild, o'er plain and hill, 
 Louder and clearer those sweet tones thrill — 
 Through thoiisand hearts that before were dumb, 
 And heard but the faint and the inward hum 
 Of the glorious time, of the golden time, 
 "When Truth shall reign in its royal prime ; 
 "When Life shall not be a skeleton thing, 
 Cut quick with the breath of a verdant spring ; 
 And the worn-out shell of this social frame 
 Shall crumble for aye in the living flame. 
 That gannent already so worn and old, 
 Is di"opping and mouldering fold on fold ; 
 And looking within I can well discern 
 The hea\'ing and flushing of life return. 
 "Wave upon wave rushes on to the shore, 
 "With a cresting foam and resounding roar ; 
 And I see the signs as of meteors bright, 
 Far off in the laud of the second-sight. 
 
 The trance is broken, the word is spoken. 
 The real and true are at last awoken ; 
 Drain not the dregs of the present and past. 
 On to the future untrodden and vast ! 
 The mind-world yet has a glorious hoard, 
 "With wealth unthought of richly stor'd ; 
 Fair wonders still hath that boundless realm, 
 But great the hand that must guide the helm.
 
 103 TBE NEW TIME. 
 
 Who dreamed of that world so long unknown, 
 "Which the eye of the Genoese sought alone ? 
 We know not all that may yet be ours, 
 "We know not the depth of our gifts and pow'rs ; 
 'Tis not that a thing is beyond our might, 
 But beyond our ken— and if sought aright 
 "We conquer and win ; for the brave and true 
 Must find the way to the deed in view. 
 There's science more grand than to reach the stars, 
 And make for yourselves triumphal cars, 
 To raise the pjTramid— lay the plinth, 
 Or delve and wind through the labyrinth. 
 Soar not, ye wise, to the seventh heaven. 
 To leave to its weakness this mortal leaven ! 
 That knowledge, the chiefest, the holiest should 
 Be to teach your kind to grow happy and good I 
 Call not the voice of the Time a dream- 
 Though effete and hollow the world you deem ; 
 •Tis the self-same sphere that in gladness first 
 From the hand of the great Creator burst ; 
 The golden sun beams out as brightly, 
 The laughing rivers dance as lightly. 
 The crimson fruit, and the clust'ring flowers, 
 Spring and bloom in as plenteous showers ; 
 The brain of man is the same as of old. 
 His heart is cast in the primal mould, 
 The great and the beautiful still are here, 
 Though temples nor colmnns to them wo rear. 
 
 Are not love and hope, and faith and glory 
 
 The same to-day as they shine in story ? 
 
 As the sap through the trees, as the blood through our 
 
 veins, 
 Boundingly old romance still reigns, 
 Living and moving around us still. 
 Noiseless and swift as a hidden rill ;
 
 TEARS. ' 103 
 
 Silently, silcntlj% speeding along, 
 A benutifiil form vnih. tuneless tongue. 
 Her priests and her votaries silent all, 
 Silent she glides through her palace hall ; 
 But the thoughtful list to her low foot-fall — 
 And hang enwrapjj'd on her musical sobs. 
 And feel her heart with its burning throbs. 
 
 ' On, still on, through our daily life. 
 Though -warp'd and stained by deceit and strife. 
 And habit that lends its conquering might 
 To weave a web like the garb of Night, 
 And strikes its roots in the mental soil, 
 Knotted and tangled to blight and foiL 
 But are there aiot some with the might to-da,y. 
 To rend the enchantment dark away ? 
 That so the hour at last shall rise. 
 Immortal and glorious as Christ to the skies ! 
 The great re;vction grand and holy. 
 It comcth sure, though it cometh slowly. 
 For through we;jiness and falsehood, and cant together. 
 The well-springs of life aru .as deep as ever. 
 
 TEARS. 
 
 DEOP down, ye hot and lalistering tears— 
 A poison-torrent from the brain — 
 Ye tell not now of grief or fears, 
 
 Nor wild and frantic x>ain ; 
 Ye fall but as the icy rain. 
 Despair pours out in vain. — 
 
 Drop ! di'op !
 
 104 IDLE WORDS. 
 
 II. 
 They pass a-w'ay in that wild shower, 
 
 Tho cherished Oieams of many a clay— 
 The glowing throbs of Life's young hour. 
 
 All, all are iwured away, 
 And life is now but dross and clay— 
 A twiUght cold and gray- 
 Drop ! drop ! 
 
 m. 
 Pour down !— yo bear within ye far 
 
 Moro priceless things than pearls or gold— 
 The glories of the iloming Star, 
 
 The bm-ning hopes of old— 
 Ye bear them down unto the mould 
 To perish, pale and cold, 
 
 Drop ! drop ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 Hopes, memories, dreams-all, all arc there. 
 And agony that none may know 
 ' Transmuted to the fell despair 
 
 That crouches faint and low. 
 That thints not, breathes not in the throe 
 Of this dai-k torrent How. 
 
 Drop! drop! 
 
 IDLE WORDS. 
 
 I. 
 
 THEEE is a mockery in those words 
 That strive with accents faint and broken,. 
 From out the heart's ruined, broken chords, 
 To speak of that, the all-ui>spoken »
 
 THE LOST SUMMER. Mj 
 
 II is a moctery — ay ! no more — 
 
 And passion laughs the laugh of madness 
 
 At that faiut voice which o'er and o'er 
 Sinks like the wind to moaning sadness ! 
 
 n. 
 I look upon thee, mute and cold, 
 
 Nor writhiug pulse, nor hot vein swcllingj. 
 Nor burning tear oixnst thou behold 
 
 Th:it inward tale of frenzy telling. 
 It is the cold and fearful doom. 
 
 Of one npon the death-bier lying, 
 Bound in the chain of tranced gloom. 
 
 For word or murmur vainly trying ! 
 
 5* 
 
 THE LOST SUMMER. 
 
 T. 
 
 I SOUGHT a summer that I kne-w, 
 Some time in those far distant years. 
 On spirit -vring away that flow. 
 
 With all its wealth of smiles and tears, 
 "With all its roses glowing red. 
 
 The lovehest that ever blew — 
 Ah ! is it lost, or is it dead ? 
 No more 111 see it bloom anew, 
 
 IL 
 
 I sought ft Love that once was true 
 
 And fervent as the skies of June : 
 It bathed the world in light and dew ; 
 
 It was Life's star and sun and moon. 
 Oh, weary search, oh, stinging pain ! 
 
 The summer that so long hath fled 
 "Will come to me as soon again 
 
 As that lost love, so cold and dead !
 
 106- THE LEGEND OF rOUL-NADnOUL. 
 
 THE LEGEND OF POUL-NA-DIIOUL. 
 
 TTNDER the base of the hill it stood, 
 A. deep, black pool Mathiu the wood — 
 Itow deep ?" some whispered. Shuddering came 
 The answer : " Near to Hell's own flame !" 
 
 u 
 
 II. 
 
 It was a spot, this Ponl-na-Dhovil, 
 Meet for the haunt of ghost or ghoul ; 
 The trees that grew beside it, drear. 
 Seemed blue and cold, as if with fear. 
 
 III. 
 
 The kites and ravens loved its gloom. 
 And shrieked and croaked as round a tomb ; 
 And sometimes came the bat and owl 
 To seek the shades of Poul-ua-Dhoul. 
 
 •IV, 
 
 One winter night, as cold as lead— 
 The moon and stars might all be dead, 
 So ghastly seemed the scene and hour— 
 "When, from the fair, came Testy Power. 
 
 V. 
 
 In truth, poor Festy was no saint— 
 His name was not without a taint ; 
 And from the altar, it is said, 
 His name full often had been read.
 
 TZZB LEGEND OF POUL-NA-DHOUL. 107 
 
 ■VI. 
 
 Now, this same year, I heard it told. 
 Ho was outside the Christian fold ; 
 His Easter duty with neglect 
 He'd treated, and but httle recked. 
 
 vn. 
 
 That night, with other godless chaps, 
 He'd had a little drop, perhaps : 
 And so no thought of fear had he, 
 Though near the spot he came to be. 
 
 vm. 
 
 How strange it was that, ringing here, 
 He heard the sounds of festive cheer ; 
 And, lo ! before him, fair and grand, 
 A stately mansion there did stand. 
 
 TX. 
 
 It rang with mirth, it blazed with light. 
 And music lent its full dehght ; 
 iVnd guests were seen in bright array 
 Within those halls so hght and gay. 
 
 X. 
 
 As Fcsty stood in wonder lost. 
 
 Came forth the hospitable host. 
 
 And, with most cordial greetiug, said : 
 
 " Why, Festy, come and join the spread." 
 
 zi. 
 
 " We've been expecting you so long 
 To-night to swell the merry throng ! 
 Now, do come in ! I pray you, do I" 
 And then he gave a pull or two.
 
 108 THE LEGEND OF POUL-NA-DHOUL. 
 
 XII. 
 But Festy, somehow, did not feel 
 Eesponsive to his host's appeal : 
 He was afraid — he, once so bold — • 
 He felt his very blood run cold ! 
 
 Xin. 
 
 And -why should he be of this mind ? 
 The gentleman was very kind ! 
 Although his countenance, 'tis true. 
 Did look a little dark of hue. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 He couldn't teU '.—but more and more 
 He grew to dread that open door ; 
 And more and more determined grew 
 The gentleman of foreign hue. 
 
 XV. 
 
 He drew young Festy onward still, 
 Most terribly against his will ; 
 But, though he struggled might and main, 
 His host did the advantage gain. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 And on the threshold soon ho stood ; 
 
 His strength was gone— he knew he should- 
 
 But all at once aloud ho cried, 
 
 " Brotcct me, God, for me that died !" — 
 
 XVII. 
 
 When vanished all the brilliant show. 
 The laughing guests, the lamplight's glow. 
 The stately house, the dark-browtd host. 
 The midnight vision — all was lost !
 
 NATIVE THOUGHTS. ' If 9 
 
 xvm. 
 And thoro, upon the very brink 
 Of Poiil-na-Dhoul, as black as ink, 
 Upon that lonely midnight hour, 
 With quivering fear, stood Festy Power ! 
 
 XIX. 
 
 But from that time, w-ithin the man, 
 A wondrous change, they say, began : 
 No more the ways of sin he trod, 
 But henceforth ever walked with God I 
 
 NATIVE THOUGHTS. 
 
 I. 
 
 THE ways of the cold-tongued stranger, I see them in hut and 
 haU, 
 They fall like a cloud of darkness, those marks of a bitter thrall. 
 Where now are the native features, so well and so widely known — 
 The noble and polished grandeur of a nation ui^on her throne ? 
 
 II. 
 
 Mine eyes seek, in heavy sorrow, the tower-crowned halls of yore, 
 I see the proud, regal chieftains that Asio)i?i* and FaUioig^ wore; 
 I hear that sweet tongue of music, of love and of grace so rare, 
 I look on the scene ax'ound me, and the Sassenach gloom is there ! 
 
 m. 
 And, oh, for the sweet-strung clairseach, 'neath the minstrel's 
 
 cunning hand, 
 "With the small wires tinkling iinder the bass in its deep notes 
 
 grand!" t 
 And the portals of court and castle flung open for song and cheer, 
 W'here the poor and the stranger ever a welcome were sure to 
 
 hear ! 
 
 * The Irish crown, f The mantle. 
 
 + Tho description given by Giraldus Cambrensis of the Irish minstrel's 
 harp-playiug.
 
 110 J^O MOKE. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Tb3 glory of Ollamh Foclhla, bravo Datlii's \Yarrior might, 
 Our heroes of Christian ages, in council, and court, and fight — 
 All, all that was precious left us, the signs of our ancient race. 
 Has it been from our memory blotted by a conqueror's ruthless 
 trace ? 
 
 V. 
 
 Oh, no ! o'er the greensward rolling the flood may be darkly 
 
 seen, 
 But beneath it all, fresh and glowing, is living the beauteous 
 
 green. 
 Soon, soon shall the rushing torrent of wrong and oppression 
 
 cease, 
 And the dove, o'er the wave rclurning, proclaim the sweet words 
 
 of peace 1 
 
 NO MORE. 
 
 I 
 
 WATCH the dead leaf fluttering, and I watch the sunset sky, 
 But if I watched from morn till eve, I'd never see you nigh. 
 
 Oh, no ! oh, no ! if I looked for aye, 
 
 I'd never see you in the night or day. 
 
 n. 
 
 I'll see the river gliding by, and I'll see the mountains tall, 
 And the lonely glen where the trees are green, and the wavering 
 shadows full ; 
 
 But while rivers run, or while green leaves grow, 
 
 I'll never see you again, I know !
 
 THE UNSPOKEN. HI 
 
 ni. 
 I'll look o'er hill, and heath, and moor, on tho misty skies and 
 
 streams, 
 Flittiug Leforc my weary eyes, like a 'wildering dance of dreams ; 
 But long and -weary my watch shall be, 
 Before a glimpse of your face I'U see. 
 
 } IV. 
 
 ' Years on years are rolling on, and there through the live-long 
 
 day, 
 With dimming sight I muse alone, till my gold locks turn to 
 
 gi-ey— 
 But, no ! oh, no ! look where I will. 
 In no place but my heart shall I find you still ! 
 
 THE UNSPOKEN. 
 
 I. 
 
 THOUGH mine eyes should gaze for ever 
 "With that longing wild above, 
 Overflowing like a river, 
 
 From my heart's deep fount of love. 
 Though I should gaze for aye on thee. 
 
 Life and love exhaling. 
 Yet still mine eyes unfilled would be, 
 And gaze on thee unfailing. 
 
 n. 
 
 Though I shoiild tell thee over, over, 
 
 All the fondness of my soul — 
 Yet would its shrine still something cover 
 
 More precious than the whole. 
 Though I should speak again — again, 
 
 Until my heart were broken, 
 The tniest word would still remain. 
 
 In that which is unspoken I
 
 lia AN OLD STORT. 
 
 AN OLD STORY. 
 
 U 1 S old as the hills," yet as green and youug, 
 
 ^V And still to be wpoken and A\Titten and sung, 
 While ever remaiueth a pen or a tongue, 
 
 They'll tell you the olden story : 
 
 II. 
 
 How two have loved in this world below, 
 
 With the freshness and fervor of morning's glow, 
 
 Each unto each a world, although 
 
 A world there was between them. 
 
 III. 
 
 How they know not or heed not the fate to bo, 
 
 But walk in a maze and a mystery, 
 
 Nor trouble, nor darkness, nor destiny see, 
 
 So strong is the spell around them. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Unmindiug the talk of the cold and the wise. 
 While they look in the depth of each others' eyes, 
 For hidden is there all the wealth they jn'ize. 
 And they know it will shine forever. 
 
 It may be a love all too pure and rare 
 
 To be happy or blest in this world of care, 
 
 Meet only to liloom in the perfumed air. 
 
 Where the Brahmin's blue flower. is springing.
 
 AN OLD STORT. 113 
 
 TI, 
 
 But bliimo ihcm not, for a fairy hand 
 Has Btrickcn tbein both ATith a magic wand, 
 And together they walk iu enchanted kind, 
 Far, far from all mortal soiTOW. 
 
 TII. 
 
 There boameth the light of a golden dream, 
 
 An-1 there's melody bubbling from sky and stream, 
 
 And the moon and the stars have a weird-like beam. 
 
 Since the hour when their love was spoken. 
 
 Tni. 
 
 The voice of the bird has a deeper strain, 
 There's an emerald glow over mount and plain, 
 And through all the earlh runs a silvery vein 
 Of glory and love and beauty. 
 
 IX. 
 
 The breath of the gorgeous and perfumed .Jimo 
 Sings, panting Avildly, a passionate tune, 
 And whispers sweet thoughts <o the night and the moon. 
 As it sinks to its loving slumbers. 
 
 And every blossom and bud and bell 
 Has each a story of joy to tell. 
 That fills the breeze with a gladsome swell, 
 And maketh the daylight softer. 
 
 SI. 
 
 And they, the dreamers each day and honr, 
 Their souls unfold to that mystic power ; 
 Entranc'd and rapt, to the skits they soar, 
 And Usten to angel numbers.
 
 114 PARTING WORDS. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Life is not life as it was of yore — 
 
 IIow cold and dull seems the time that's o'er— 
 
 "UndiDc" a poet's dream no more, 
 
 But reality, happy and glorious. 
 
 xni. 
 
 Then, how can they deem their love untold, 
 Not far more precious than silver or gold ? 
 It must be now as it was of old. 
 
 If you think — it will seem no wonder. 
 
 xrv. 
 
 Oh, marvel not that thy wisdom ne'er 
 Can have power to banish that vision fair ; 
 That it could be so, sure the marvel were— 
 Is not this a very old story ? 
 
 PARTING WORDS. 
 
 TTTHE^ "^11 y^ <^''™^ afjain ? 
 y Y The weary hours will fall, 
 And 'tis by the beating of my heart 
 
 That I will count them all — 
 By the beating of my hoiirt, 
 
 And the dropping of my tears, 
 Through the dreary day, and the lonely night, 
 
 And the long and lonely yeais.
 
 THE VOICE OF TEE RUER. US 
 
 n. 
 
 Why did you stay so long ? 
 
 Or I shoiild never bo 
 Thus clinging to you, as the moss 
 
 Is wreathed around the tree — 
 Thus breathing in your breath, 
 
 Thus fading when you go, 
 Forgetting e'en my love and joy 
 
 In my dark and dreary woe. 
 
 m. 
 
 You came to win my heart. 
 
 You stayed to gain my troth, 
 I never dreamed a parting hour . 
 
 So woful for us both. 
 Oh, bitter, bitter arc my tears ! 
 
 Adieu, my darling one : 
 What shall I do this dreary hour, 
 
 When I feel that you are gone ? 
 
 THE VOICE OF THE RIVER. 
 
 EVER, and ever, with a voice of sighing, 
 Hui-riod the -n-ild wave from the light away, 
 Onward to moiarnful darkness faintly flying. 
 Far from the glory of its life's young day. 
 Ever and ever camo that voice of sighing, 
 
 Swelling the breezes with its murmurs low— 
 The last faint murmiirs that are heard in dying. 
 From those who leave the loved on earth below.
 
 116 "L. L." 
 
 U. 
 
 Ever and ever, from that dim, cold charncl. 
 
 Bearing its memories deep of joy and woe, 
 Tliroiigh time and cliaugo, unchanging and eternal. 
 
 Ceaseless those wailing tones are heard to flow — 
 "Farewell! farewell! in all its wanderings lonely, 
 
 "Wilt thou not hear this sad voice o'er and o'er, 
 Ever and ever murmm.iug — ^Ijreathing only 
 
 Of love that lives and moui-ns for evermore !" 
 
 "L. L."* 
 
 I. 
 
 I'lAR off ! far off ! -within the desert rudo 
 ^ In the cold heart of that deep solitude. 
 Two magic letters on tho nagged bark, 
 "With touching memory on that pathway dark, 
 The wanderer's footsteps tenderly still mark. 
 
 II. 
 
 Tho mosses, clustering, grew not to efface — 
 But crept along in melancholy grace ; 
 And mado tho outline of the letters dear, 
 Unto tho eager eyes morn tiiie and clear. 
 Through all the tumult of our hojio and fear. 
 
 HI. 
 
 Along that pathway sterile, lone and grey — 
 We follow, still, where'er they point the way ; 
 And ever still, before our longing eyes, 
 Wc see the whitening of tho dawn arise, 
 And hear tho whisper of a glad surprise. 
 
 * I:i tho Br.-.rdi for Loicliharrtt, one of tho explorers of tho Australian Con« 
 tiiiciit, tievcral trees were found bearing tho initials of hia no,nie, " L. L."
 
 THE AGE'S TEACHERS. 117 
 
 IV. 
 
 All ! moiirnful letters— who may now divine 
 The unspoken tale of which you arc the sign ? 
 "i'ou hold it in your keeping, graven deep ; 
 And men conjecturing, perchance, may weep — 
 But it is locked, for aye, in deathly sleep ! 
 
 T, 
 
 "L. L.!" Alas! for those dark, weary days, 
 • With failing footsteps toiling through the maze — 
 The lonely anguish of a hero soul, 
 Bent 'neath the burthen of a heavy dole, 
 Yet ever struggling forward to the goal ! 
 
 VI. 
 
 Beloved letters ! not that desert tree 
 Alone shall keep a record fond of thee— 
 A nation, treasuring its precious lore, 
 Shall have thee graven deep for evermore, 
 "With mournful pride, upon its inmost core. 
 
 THE AGE'S TEACHERS 
 
 I. 
 
 MEN of the mind-world, 
 Earnest are we. 
 For the words wind-hurl'd, 
 
 Spoken by ye. 
 Casting off lacguor, 
 Comes the wild clangor, 
 Toned as the sea. 
 
 n. 
 
 True are ye sounding 
 The chords of the hour. 
 
 Loudly resounding 
 With grandeur and power.
 
 118 THE AGE'S TEACHERS. 
 
 Well have you learned, 
 Wisely discerned, 
 Changes that lower. 
 
 ' III. 
 
 So "hugely unreal," 
 The world and its creed — 
 
 Tmith seems an ideal 
 To treat with unheed. 
 
 Base " falsehoods ■ ■ insidious, 
 
 And "mockeries" hideous, 
 The multitude lead. 
 
 IV. 
 
 High, zealous and solemn. 
 Your preaching so bold ; 
 
 " Seize pillar and column. 
 The temples that hold ; 
 
 And valiantly cover, 
 
 In ruins for ever, 
 The 'Mammon' of old." 
 
 V. 
 
 When trampled were error. 
 
 Can you who destroy, 
 From ruin and terror, 
 
 Kaiso order and joy ? 
 Is thine the commission. 
 The serious mission. 
 
 To do as destroy ? 
 
 TI. 
 
 The which of you, standing, 
 O'er chaos and night. 
 
 Can, God-like, commanding. 
 Say " Let there be light." 
 
 The which of you, ending 
 
 The system of rending, 
 Can build up the Eight ?
 
 JKIiVG' LABHRADH'S EARS. 119 
 
 KING LABHRADH'S* EARS. 
 
 [rOUHDED ON AN INCIDENT IN THE mSTOEY OF ANCIENT IRELAND.] 
 
 ONCE on a time there reigned in Eire, 
 A luiglity King whose name was Laire, 
 A monarch truly grand and royal, 
 "With subjects most intensely loyal. 
 ' They must have been, for truly ho 
 Did sorely try their loyalty. 
 His Majesty, as it appears, 
 Was furnished with most curious ears : 
 The fact, alas! we can't dissemble, 
 Those of an ass they did resemble. 
 King Laire, naturally, tried 
 This blemish fn)m his Court to hide, 
 And therefore hit upon the trick 
 To wear his hair both long and thick ; 
 But when the growth was ovemiuch, 
 Perforce, he sought the barber's touch. 
 The royal hair must know the scissors, 
 Or else be hke to Nabuchadnezzar's. 
 Once in the year it trimming needed. 
 And, oh, how much that time was dreaded I 
 For when the process was completed 
 The barber's wages then were meted. 
 After the final snip he gave 
 Ho was conducted to his grave — 
 To have the secret safely buried, 
 That so the king might not bo worried ! 
 
 The barber's post, it should be noted, 
 By lot each year was always voted, 
 And now unto the fatal dictum 
 A \\'idow's only son fell victim. 
 
 ♦PrououDced "Laire,"
 
 120 KI^'^G LABBRADirS EARS. 
 
 Theu rushed the mother, wildly shrieking, 
 
 An iuicaence at the palace seeking, 
 
 In hopes the king might grant her prayer, 
 
 The i^roi) of her old age to spare. 
 
 Kow, pit3"ing her sad condition, 
 
 The guards allowed her free admission, 
 
 And at the Monarch's gi*acious feet 
 
 She humbly sued for mercy sweet. 
 
 His heai-t was touched, her pleadings heard, 
 
 And then he jDledged his royal word 
 
 The young man's life should be preserved, 
 
 If he the promise well obsei-ved 
 
 To keep the secret he should learn 
 
 "Within his bosom strict and stern. 
 
 If e'er to mortal ear revealed, 
 
 "Why, then, his doom at onco was sealed ! 
 
 With joyful heart the youth accepted 
 The easy bargain — and he kept it. 
 Although he marveled much and long. 
 Ho managed still to hold his tongue ; 
 But when seme little time had passed, 
 Poor boy*! the burthen on him i^rcssed — 
 The burthen of that secret queer, 
 'Till he to death was very near. 
 His mother, sad and sore-perplexed. 
 Considered what she should do next ; 
 And then decided to consult 
 A Druid versed in arts occult. 
 Within the space of half a minute, 
 Tho wise old man told what was in it. 
 And said : " Tho youth is slowly dying, 
 'Cause something on his mind is lying : 
 If ho his bosom can't disbuiiheu 
 Tho ' Leech's ' art can do no more then I" 
 Now, this was hard, for either way 
 Condemned to death the patient lay.
 
 KING LABHRADH'S EAEfi 121 
 
 Unto that sage, in -wisdom hoary, 
 The sorrowing mother told her story, 
 And wept and wailed iu bitter grief, 
 Despairing now of all relief. 
 
 But comfort came: the Druid kind 
 Said : "We a, compromise may find 
 Whereby all consequences bad 
 Maj' be avoided by the lad. 
 'Tis true he can't, on pain of death. 
 Reveal the secret that he hath 
 To mortal ear — and there's the fix ! 
 By keeping it he'll cross the Stj^x. 
 Now, here io what I would propose, 
 To remedy those serious woes : 
 Without delay the patient should 
 Proceed unto a neighboring wood. 
 And where four highwaj's meeting stand 
 Tui-n round and walk to his right hand, 
 Then, to the tree that first will grow, 
 Whisper that secret soft and low." 
 
 The sage's counsel, to the letter. 
 
 Was followed, and the youth grew better-'- 
 
 A willow tree had, word for word. 
 
 The dangerous secret from him heard I 
 
 It was soon after these events 
 That, in the ways of Providence, 
 The King's musician— Craftine named — 
 For highest skill most justly famed. 
 Having hid old harp broken, went 
 To make another instrument. 
 Where should he, of all places, go 
 But to that very wood, you know ! 
 And choose the self-same willow tree 
 That held the whispered mystery !
 
 122 KIXG LABURADH'S EARS. 
 
 Home did he then the timber take, 
 
 And straight of it a clairseach make, 
 
 But, when 'twas fashioned, strung and tuned, 
 
 One only strain it ever crooned — 
 
 One only strain, that said, alas ! 
 
 "King Laire's ears are those of an ass !" 
 
 " King Laire's ears are those of an ass !" 
 
 "King Laire's ears are those of an ass !" 
 
 Quite thunderstruck, as well he might. 
 
 Grew Craftine. Could he hear aiight ? 
 
 He brought his brother hai'pers round ; 
 
 They touched the stiings, but not a sound 
 
 From any hand but these would pass ; 
 
 "King Laire's ears are those of an ass I" 
 
 Now, far and wide did spread the tale. 
 
 To reach the King it did not fail ; 
 
 And, sending for the minstrel, he 
 
 Desired the famous harp to see. 
 
 Commanding that it should be i:)layed. 
 
 That he might hear the words it said. 
 
 Craftine obeyed. The strings awoke, 
 
 And forth the fatal secret broke ! 
 
 His Majesty now saw his error, 
 
 And nearly swooned with shame and terror. 
 
 Ho said: " I know that Heaven has sent 
 
 On me this bitter punishment. 
 
 For all the crimes my guilty pride 
 
 Has wrought !" — and here the Monarch sighed. 
 
 " I know I've no excuse to offer 
 
 For all I've made my subjects suffer ; 
 
 My locks no more shall fall below — 
 
 Thoso cars, henceforth, I'll freely show; 
 
 Exposed before you they bhall be, 
 
 So far's my crown may let you see !" 
 
 Cbaftes-e, (Aside) : 
 "A crown, indeed, is much the surest cover 
 To hide an ass's ears the world all over !"
 
 STRIPES AND STARS. 123 
 
 STRIPES AND STARS. 
 
 1. 
 
 A' BLUFF John Bull upon a tour, 
 Came to America, 
 And, meeting there an Irish boor, 
 . With covei-t sneer did say : 
 "Now, Paddy, can you tell — I cawn't — 
 
 Why Yankees sport that flag ? 
 What mean those Stripes and Stars, that flaunt 
 Upon the motley rag ?" 
 
 n. 
 
 " Indeed, and sure, I think I can ; 
 
 It's plain enough to me, 
 And every woman, child and man 
 
 That knows the A B C. 
 You see, Sir, 'when it was no joke, 
 
 Some eighty years ago. 
 Between you and them Yankee folk 
 
 That now those colors show, 
 
 ni. 
 
 There came a day when o'er the sai/ 
 
 Ye beat a quick retreat ; 
 And proud and free America 
 
 Kose up upon her feet. 
 'Twas then her own brave flag she raised— 
 
 And, bo the mighty wars !— 
 Tliere's just the Stnpes she gave ye, placed. 
 
 Beside her own bright Stars !
 
 121 THE TWO SCULPTORS. 
 
 THE TWO SCULPTORS 
 
 [a LEOENU of ITLOBENCE.] 
 
 Scene— h. Sculptob'b Studio. 
 
 I. 
 
 IT was a ■world, so cold and wliite, 
 But all in grace and beaiity moulded — 
 So colorless, and yet so bright, 
 The eye might crave no more delight 
 
 Than onlj' to behold it — 
 As if before our mortal sight 
 A dreamland were unfolded. 
 
 31. 
 
 A land so strangely calm and fair ! 
 
 Those charmed forms in silent grouping, 
 Though motionless, were soulful there : 
 Some tower in god-liko grandeur rare. 
 
 From heights immortal stooping ; 
 And S'ime with soft and pensive air 
 Are low in slumber drooi^ing. 
 
 in. 
 
 It seems as if by magic spell 
 
 From out that spirit clime had faded 
 
 The glowing hues, the vivid swell, 
 
 That in its every pulse did dwell, 
 When hand Eternal made it ; 
 
 And o'er it deadliest pallor fell. 
 And deepest silence shaded.
 
 THE TWO SCULPTORS. 125 
 
 IV. 
 
 But lovely, still, albeit the doom — 
 
 Oh ! yc.'t more touching iind more tender- 
 Thus, in the whiteness of the tomb, 
 Than earth's most glowing, dazzling bloom 
 
 Its aspect e'er could render, 
 Diviner, subtler glories loom 
 Through all its mystic wonder. 
 
 Proudly the Sculptor stood apart. 
 Alone, amid that fair creation, 
 
 And in those airy forms of Art 
 
 Behold the children of his heart 
 With deep and fond elation ; 
 
 Around ho saw himself engirt 
 By dreams of inspiration. 
 
 TI. 
 
 Exultingly at length ho said : 
 
 " Be it proclaimed in song and storj', 
 
 No leaf or flower the wreath s.hall shed 
 
 That decks to-day this artist head 
 With proud and deathless glory — 
 
 No rival now have I to dread 
 Through idl the ages hoary ! 
 
 •vn. 
 
 "Let him appear whose cunning hand 
 From mine shall win the palm undjdng 
 
 Here, I, the mighty master stand, 
 
 And challenge send throughout the land, 
 The skiilfulcst defying !" 
 
 Ere long unto his stern command 
 This missive came replying :
 
 126 THE TWO SCULPTORS. 
 
 vin. 
 
 " Yes, there is one, despite thy vaunt, 
 Who dares the lists to enter truly ; 
 
 No caitiff he whom words may dauut." 
 
 Behold ! a stranger, grim and gaunt. 
 Arrived in Florence newly. 
 
 And Nnth unmoved, unswerving front 
 Sought out the Sculptor, duly. 
 
 IX. 
 
 " From distant climes, at thy behest, 
 A nameless stranger here repairing, 
 
 Now feareth not to stand the test, 
 
 And TOWS to prove his claim the best, 
 Although no trophies bearing." 
 
 Thus spoke the nameless stranger-guest, 
 "With brow and eye of daring ! 
 
 '"• Now, when shall come our game of sldll ?*" 
 Ho said, in hollow tones appalling. 
 
 " Our subject ?" as he muttered still, 
 
 A laugh, as of a silver rill. 
 Upon' the ear came falling ; 
 
 And music-words were heard to thrill, , 
 In love and gladness calling. 
 
 XI. 
 
 And, lo ! the portal wide was flung. 
 And two fair forms came onward, dancing- 
 
 The Sculptor's wife and little son. 
 
 With crimson bloom their cheeks upon, 
 Gold locks, and blue eyes glancing— 
 
 " Ha ! ha !" the stranger cried, anon, 
 Unto the group advancing.
 
 THE TWO SCULPTORS. 127 
 
 SII. 
 
 " That artist shall have glorious meed 
 
 Who incui-Dates this vision glowing ; 
 And should it be, in sooth, decreed 
 That sculptured marble e'er suc;cced 
 
 This child and dame in showing, 
 'T will surely bo a wondrous deed 
 
 Of subtlest Art's bestowing !" 
 
 xm. 
 
 Then spoke the husband and the sire, 
 
 Unto his grizzly rival turning : 
 " Thy boasting brings me little iro ; 
 And freely all thou dost desire 
 
 I grant — albeit mth warning, 
 That he who highest doth aspire 
 
 May win the most of scorning." 
 
 XIV, 
 
 Beplied the stranger, grim and wan : 
 
 " Three days I ask for my endeavor — 
 Three days— then, when the evening sun 
 Upon the horizon waxes dun, 
 
 My task shall well be over." 
 The Sculptor smiled : "Three days alone ?" 
 
 " Yes, yes ! I do not waver, 
 
 XV. 
 
 " Thou'lt see the two thou lov'st so well 
 
 Wrought out in all perfection rarely ; 
 More lovely they than words may tell, 
 As bright and pure as lily bell 
 
 In dewy morning early — 
 Soft cheeks, fair limbs, in rounded swell. 
 Of marble clear and pearly 1"
 
 123 THE TWO SCULPTORS. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 As thus lie said, beneath his eye 
 The two fair creatui-es seemed to wither ; 
 
 Some-what aghast, and somewhat shy, 
 
 Like startled fawns they both stood by, 
 And paler grew together. 
 
 The Sculptor, too — he knew not why — 
 Paced, restless, there and hither. 
 
 xvn. 
 
 As if some evil influence 
 
 The Summer air were all pei-vading. 
 
 And weighed adown his very sense, 
 
 "With mystic terror dark and dense ; 
 But then himself upraising : 
 
 " Bah, bah !" ho cried, " why should I wince, 
 r/iei?' terror weakly aiding ?" 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 " Ginevra and Paolo, both," 
 
 He said, " why gaze so frightened yonder 
 Upon this stranger V Nothing loth 
 Now I he should essay, in truth. 
 
 The task that ho doth ponder. 
 Three days will be a rapid growth 
 
 For such an artist wonder." 
 
 XIX. 
 
 "Well, to his task, without delay, 
 Pcepaircd that craftsman. Unmolested 
 
 In secret chamber did he stay. 
 
 And all untiring jilied away. 
 
 As on the swift hours hasted, » 
 
 Until the third eve's gijld and grey 
 Upon the horizon rested.
 
 6* 
 
 THE TWO SCULPTORS. 1-5 
 
 XS. 
 
 Then came lie forth with summons loncl, 
 
 Upon the impatient master calling : 
 *' Approach," Jio cried, " O rival proud ! 
 And sec tliy jiridc forever bowed." 
 
 In sooth, the sight was galling ! 
 For there, us if beneath a shroud, 
 
 In beauty strange, appalling. 
 
 Lay child and mother, marble pale. 
 
 And lying, as in sleep, enchanted. 
 Had Ai-t before in wildest tale 
 
 Of such a marvel vaunted] 
 "With dimming eyes, and limbs that fajl, 
 And in his ears a funeral wail. 
 
 By some strange teixor haunted, 
 
 xxn. 
 
 Came closer to the sculptured two. 
 
 The ono who loved them best and nearest. 
 
 Why grows his check so j)alc of hue ? 
 
 Why starts upon his brow the dew ? 
 Say, master, what thou fearest. 
 
 The grizzly stranger near him di-ew : 
 " Whose claim is now the fairest ?'* 
 
 xxnt. 
 
 " Two lovely forms, though still and cold !" 
 With mocking laugh he could not smother, 
 
 Said, cruelly, that Phantom old : 
 
 " Go lay them both -wdthin the mould, 
 The sculptiu-'d Child and Mother. 
 
 Ha ! ha ! Thou canwt not, sure, withhold 
 The palm from Death, my brother !"
 
 130 SHADOWS. 
 
 SHADOWS, 
 
 CEEATHE ! move again ! one ^•ision of my sonl iindying, 
 As ouce thy glory, Bun-brigbt, slio-wcrecl on me — 
 From out the heart's wild storms and hopes in ruins lying, 
 
 Come in thy radiant immortality ! 
 There are strange, hideous forms around me darkly creeping, 
 
 So long ! so long ! these things of woe and gloom, 
 There are such nameless pangs in this my weeping, 
 I cannot choose, but shudder at the doom ! 
 
 n. 
 
 And ever with this voiceless, breathless, weary longing, 
 
 Stretch out my hands in one faint mui-mured prayer, 
 Back, back to that dear land where golden dreams were thronging. 
 
 Ere yet its sky was darkened by despair. 
 Do hushed ! be hushed, a moment. Fate's unpitying clamor — 
 
 Oh, fade, dark shapes, in mercy, quickly fade — 
 One look, one tone, with all the olden glamour. 
 
 Although it bo an echo and a shade. 
 
 ni. 
 
 One moment in the purencss of that mystic feeling, 
 
 Wearing the light of its eternity ; 
 One moment in the silence of that hushed revealing, 
 
 Breathing through height and depth its melody ; 
 The breath of spring-buds in the low breeze softly dying, 
 
 Encircles thee, O shadow dim and dear. 
 Heart beats to heart in faintly murmured sighing, 
 
 Forgetting doubt, and wrong, and quivering fear !
 
 DEATH. 131 
 
 IV. 
 
 My spirit bursts tbo Ibcnisand fetters chaining, 
 
 And stand-) again with thine to soar on higli ; 
 Again! again! those -wondrous 'eyes are raining 
 
 Down dcwii of fondness on mo, as in days gone by ! 
 And memory comes with all her sweet bells ringing 
 
 Around me peals that rush of silver sound ; 
 Faint rai^turous whispers from the far-off bringing, 
 
 Within the circle of the holy ground ! 
 
 DEATH 
 
 UPON the marble face of DeaLh, 
 In all the agnny of life, 
 "Wo gaze with quivering, stifled breath, 
 
 And passion's awful inward strife. 
 "Why do they lie so cold and still ? 
 
 Can nought disturb that silence dread ? 
 Nor word, nor look, nor touch can thrill— 
 They are dead ! they arc dead ! 
 
 n. 
 
 Ah ! there with Death's own pallid hue. 
 
 We see the love that we have slain ; 
 We call in tones that once it knev/, 
 
 But call, and shriek, and pr;).y in Viiin ! 
 It ^nll not speak, it will not move, 
 
 The silence, stillness, fall so dread ; 
 It will not speak, nor look, nor move — 
 
 It is dead ! it is dead !
 
 132 "IMPLORA PACE." 
 
 " I I\r P L O R A PACE 
 
 U t:\IPLOE:A pace !" still the tlmndcr crashes 
 
 X Night and day -^-ithin this trembling soul, 
 And the red lightning shoots and scathes in mjTiad flashes, 
 
 Marking each verdant spot with death and dole ; 
 And through the lightless caverns of this heart dark waters rush, 
 
 And wear their waj', with deep, resistless power, 
 Bearing ^^ithin us that wild, o'ermast'ring crush 
 
 The strength and hope that might have met the hour. 
 
 rr. 
 
 " Implora Pace!" Everj' link is cloven, 
 
 Every green leaf scattircd to the blast, 
 And the gold curtain, o'er the future woven, 
 
 Eended, to show the future like the past ! 
 All, all, or youth's fair flowery wi-eath, or glory's starry crown. 
 
 Each thought and throb that seemed divine of yore 
 Flit through the rolling whirlwind, beaiing doAvn 
 
 Terrific now on Life's cold, dreary shore. 
 
 ni. 
 
 " Implora Pace!" Golden dreams have fed me, 
 
 Sea-toned voices of triumphal song. 
 Bright glimmerings of a light that might have led me. 
 
 Ordeal-girded, through the ranks of wrong ; 
 And now, 'mid wreck and ruin, one prayer alone I pour — 
 
 Not for the victor's might, or victor's pride — 
 One heart- wrung prayer that echoes o'er and o'er. 
 
 And asks nought else from God or man beside.
 
 MYSTERIES. 133 
 
 IV. 
 
 " Implom Pace .'" Wheresoe'er thou pointcst, 
 So tliut spring-breath fall iigain ou mc, 
 ■^ So thou, with healing hand, this weaiy heart annointest, 
 There, with joy most bounding, -would I flee. 
 'Mmplora Pace!" Wild, imploring sighs ascend above ; 
 / 1 pray not summer's light or summer's bloom, 
 
 ^ut this alone from all thy ruth and love : 
 
 " Implora Pace /" be it in the tomb. 
 
 IMYSTERIES. 
 
 AlilOETAL once, in an hour of i)ride, 
 Looked into that gulf so deep and wide — 
 The fathomless gulf of the human heart — 
 Then turned away with a start ; 
 For terrible sights were there to see 
 Of gi-ief, and gloom, and mystery. 
 Wandering on and wandering ever. 
 With wild and mad and vain endcavoi-, 
 Through murky caves, through djEdal ways, 
 Where sunlight never sheds its rays, 
 Where hollow, mournful murmurs call, 
 And spectral footsteps fall. 
 
 Then a voice in warning said : 
 "Leave thou that search, so dark and dread, 
 Call them not into shape and form. 
 Those shadowy things of flame and storm ; 
 Look in the sea, and look on the earth. 
 O'er ruin, and wreck, and dearth ; 
 Pierce the red volcano's gloom. 
 The depths of the noisome, icy tomb,
 
 134 THE mUSSIANS BEFORE PARIS. 
 
 And even tlio far-off, dire abyss 
 Where fiery serjients stiug aud liiss — 
 But shut, with a strong and speedy hand, 
 The gate of that strange land. 
 
 Hide it, oh, hide it, as best may be, 
 Or woe, eternal woe to thee ! 
 Cover it over with summer flowers, 
 Through all thy life-long weary hours ; 
 Gaze through those veils alone that hung 
 Before it, ore that knell was rung — 
 Seek not thy spirit wings 
 From those terrific things ; 
 Strive to still and strive to crush 
 "Within thy soul the tempest rush 
 That craves for knowledge and for power 
 To place thee on the lofty tower. 
 These are the treasures of the deep, 
 "Which fearf al monsters watch aud keep I 
 Away ! away ! where beams the sun ; 
 Now kneel in prayer, thou mortal one, 
 Hear the words, so solemn — dread — 
 In Love and Mercy to thee said ! 
 
 THE PRUSSIANS BEFORE PARIS. 
 
 I. 
 
 GPJM, plodding Teuton ! fiery Celt ! 
 "With natures clashing like their swords. 
 Hate meeting hate with deadly gi'asp. 
 
 They stand the fierce, opposing hordes — 
 Set face to face, aud hand to hand, 
 
 Upon this dreadful day of ire, 
 While eveiy red-hot cannon's mouth 
 Now bellows forth its curses dire.
 
 THE PRUSSIANS BEFORE PARIS. 135 
 
 II. 
 
 Victors without a victory ! 
 
 Yo vanquislied till unvanqnislicci still ' 
 Wo kuow how irou force laay be 
 
 Met by the irou of the will. 
 The deadly stroke may still descend, 
 
 The bolts of doom upon her fall ; 
 Tiwt Franco, undying to the end, 
 
 With haughty front, defies it all I 
 
 III. 
 
 She cannot stoo^i — she cannot die — 
 
 The electric fire is deep within ; 
 Though brute, relentless force may try, 
 
 A triumph it shrJl never win. 
 Bring all your soldiers to the field — 
 
 With all your "science "-might advance — 
 Yet still before you ne'er shall yield, 
 
 The soul of proud, immortal France 1 
 
 rv. 
 
 JEIer hour will come — majestic calm — 
 
 The land of Joan again shall rise ; 
 And, bearing in her hand the palm, 
 
 bit throned and crowned in queenly guise. 
 Her lilies, trampled to the earth. 
 
 Shall spring aloft in snowy bloom. 
 The lovelier in their second birth, 
 
 From out the depth of silent gloom I
 
 13C EDOM. 
 
 EDOM.* 
 
 THE smile of d;xy is sad 
 Upon thy desolation and thy doom ; 
 The light that ou the desert sands was glad 
 
 Now o'er thy cold gi'ey walls doth mournful fade ; 
 W'rajop'd up in shadows, one vast low'ring tomb, 
 Dark with th' Almighty power thou'st prostrate laid. 
 
 zi. 
 
 No more, no more in thee 
 
 Shall tones of triumph or of joy be heard ; 
 But those who gaze upon thee silently. 
 
 And with a strange, deep awe, shall rest the eye 
 On those proud colonnades and arches reared 
 
 From out the rock, " thou who dwell'st on high !" 
 
 m. 
 
 Now dim, and cold, and still 
 
 The dwelhngs and the fanes, once quick of old, 
 With pomp and mirth, and hai-p and cymbal's swell ; 
 
 Thy lamps are quench'd, low whispers shuddering fill 
 The spot where vengeance doth its kingdom hold, 
 
 And where Avas rung forgiveness' dreadful kneU 1 
 
 IV. 
 
 Yet thou remainest strong, 
 
 Oh, dweller on the cliffs that crown the waste ; 
 A monument of mortal pride and wrong. 
 
 In scornful sorrow there the sands among, 
 A fallen queen o'er deserts wild and vast. 
 
 There in thino arrogance through ages long. 
 
 m ' 
 
 *Sco Stephens, an American traveller, for a description of the ruins of 
 Ldoui.
 
 EDOM. 137 
 
 V. 
 Time h.alli no power to bide 
 
 Within thy precincts ; here no crumbling trace 
 May show that o'er thee did his footsteps glide. 
 
 The conqiieror of Earth, ho left thy pride 
 To him who o'er the sx^iftest, mightiest pace 
 
 Of Time or Death doth all tiiumphant ride. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Thou seem'st ev'n as of yore , 
 
 Still tow'r in royal might thy proud abodes, 
 With propylon and capitol that bear the lore 
 
 Of Age's grandeur ; but no more ! no more ! 
 Thy palaces have kings nor temiiles gods — 
 
 O little one of nations ! here let man adore. 
 
 VII, 
 
 The slimy lizard crawls, 
 
 With bright and glancing eye, from dome to dome, 
 Across the twisted pillars and cold walls, 
 
 And through the lofty vacant shrines and halls ; 
 No beings else within those chambers roam, 
 
 No other footsteps on the silence falls. 
 
 Tin. 
 The dusty day-beams peep 
 
 Throiigh wTeathed arch and winding gallery. 
 Filled up with solemn thoughts and shadows deep. 
 
 That through the death-still void all faintly creep. 
 And strange and thrilling, like a spirit's sigh. 
 
 In dimmed nooks and lone recesses sleei). 
 
 IX. 
 Each vast and high arcade 
 
 And voiceless chamber, heavy with deep awe, 
 Seems musing darkly in its gi.int shade ; 
 
 And all around the silence down is weighed 
 By echoes of the past, still miu-muring low. 
 
 And something faint (hat whispers of the dead.
 
 138 EDOM. 
 
 X. 
 
 Those gorgeous pillars riso 
 
 With cunning trac'iy of primeval hands, 
 In noble skill, unto the azure skies 
 
 That look with solemn i)ity on the wreck that hes, 
 Of pride and glorj- hid, 'mid scorching sands, 
 
 Marking the wrath on high in morning guise. 
 
 XI. 
 
 What wert thon, haughty one ? 
 
 Didst thou not strain unto the shimmering stars ? 
 Have not thy banners waved, thine armor shone, 
 
 Thy princes o'er the wide earth fiercely gone, 
 And reddened it with desolating wars, 
 
 Till all the darkness of their iro was done ? 
 
 xn. 
 
 I see the levin rush 
 
 Of glittering swords and spears and steel-clad men. 
 That shout exulting in their triumj^h's flush. 
 
 And through the air proud strains of music gush, 
 And chariots roll, and gloT\iog wreaths arc strewn : 
 
 Then falleth on the scene a mighty hush. 
 
 xm. 
 And, 'mid that hush, behold ! 
 
 A conqueror comes forth upon his steed, 
 ■With bearing ev'n as of no mortal mould. 
 
 In all the blazonry of silks and gold ; 
 Hath he not won his valor's noble meed ? 
 
 The dust hath o'er the homes of Judah roU'd. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 But, lo ! a voice hath spoke : 
 
 " O Bosra, woe to thee in all thy purple pride !" 
 And nf)W the avenging hosts have onward broko, 
 
 The sharp steel gleams, the thunder hath awoke. 
 The war-fiend's breath blows hotly far and wide — 
 
 Whiit truth is pcal'd to thee amid the shock ?
 
 JETERNJTAS. 13S 
 
 XV. 
 
 " Thou'lt know I am tlic Lord !" 
 In terror and in fltime that sound is borne ; 
 
 'Tis writ in blood, 'tis flasli'd from out the sword- 
 Loud, loud and deep is heard the mighty word— 
 
 The ^Tl•alhful vial o'er thy head is poured, 
 For thes, proud daughter of the earth, to mourn I 
 
 XVI, 
 
 The warrior bands of might — 
 
 Lehold the palms are now more Btrong than they ; 
 The Avhispering wind that follows on the night 
 
 Is louder than the tones that led the fight ; 
 Where sleep thy Kings and Princes of the potent sway ? 
 
 •'With the uncircumcised," in darkest night ! 
 
 svn. 
 
 And thon art dread to see, 
 
 With malediction brooding on thy walls, 
 The sous of men with shuddering look on thee, 
 
 And pass along euwrapt and silently : 
 An awful voice still lingers in thy halls, 
 
 " Accursed among the nations shalt thou be V 
 
 iETERNITAS. 
 
 I. 
 
 I SEEK thee on the wild wings of love and pain. 
 With a subtle striving ; 
 By the deep passion of my spirit riving. 
 
 The dungeon and chain, 
 And I pierce through the silent gloom 
 That wraps thee, as in the tomb !
 
 no . JETERNITAS. 
 
 II. 
 
 All space is fiUctl -with thee, like the winds and sun, 
 
 And I feel thy presence 
 As a strange, mournful, mysterious essence, 
 
 Mine only one ! 
 TVhile alouo and apart we stand, 
 Thou and I, in the shadowy land. 
 
 III. 
 Are wo not one, by many a secret sign. 
 
 Breathing and burning ; 
 By the vast, boundless agony of yearning, 
 
 Both thine and mine ? 
 By all that momorj^ brings 
 On her thousand rushing wings ? 
 
 IV. 
 
 Have we not stood together on the verge 
 
 Of the far Eternal, 
 And felt its breezes blowing calm and vernal. 
 
 Its waters surge ? 
 While all the golden bars 
 Were raised from the sun and stars. 
 
 V. 
 
 Through the clear, crystal glory of our dream 
 
 Shone pure and glowing 
 All myt^teries from the far Elysian flowing, 
 
 With dazzling gleam. 
 Immortal, then, wo knew 
 The link that bound us two. 
 
 VI. 
 
 My love hath been to thee what none may know, 
 
 Mystic and holy ; 
 Clothed in the whiteness that a spirit solely 
 
 Above can show. 
 In the light of the heavenly place 
 I might btand with thee, face to face.
 
 ^TERNITAS. 141 
 
 ^711. 
 
 Aucl I have thought of thee, each thought a prtycr, 
 
 With deep adoring ; 
 All the rich vials of my life outpouring 
 
 Their incense rare — 
 Thy beauty as I saw, 
 With hushed religious awe. 
 
 •vta. 
 
 We have no part in mortal change or time, 
 
 For us the i:>ortal 
 Opes Addo and wondrous of the land immortal, 
 
 Far off — sublime — 
 Infinity can but hold 
 The Love and the Truth untold. 
 
 IX. 
 
 The gates of Hope and Joy have closed behind, 
 
 With a clang of thunder ; 
 Over the wild, bleak waste, in mournful wonder, 
 
 I fled as the wind ; 
 Till on the Eternal shore 
 I heard the deep ocean's roar. 
 
 X. 
 
 There I await thee while the ages bo, 
 
 ]\Iino own for ever — 
 Mine by a bond that power of none may sever — 
 
 Eternity 
 Shall be for lis the sphere 
 Of all Time whisjiered here 1
 
 142 ALICE. 
 
 ALICE. 
 
 A POETEAIT. 
 I. 
 
 TTlEPiE she stands, so calm and meek, 
 With the rose-lint on her cheek, 
 Euby lips ai^art to speak — 
 Pretty Alice ! 
 
 n. 
 
 Chestnut locks fall thick below 
 On the slender nock of snow, 
 In those eyes a tender glow — 
 Lovely Alice ! 
 
 m. 
 
 Like an osier o'er the stream, 
 See, she Lends, as in a di-eam. 
 Brightly as a glad sunbeam- 
 Graceful Alice I 
 
 IV. 
 
 Shadows flit, but leave no trace 
 On the sweet and nymph-like face, 
 Where all glorious thoughts have place— 
 Tairest Alice ! 
 
 Now she springs, with fawn-like glee. 
 O'er the mead, so light and free, 
 Loving bird and flower and tree — 
 Gmleless Ahce !
 
 AN- ADJURATION. 1*3 
 
 •\T. 
 
 Silver clear her laughter ring;?, 
 Like a rushing stream that flings 
 Down the hills its tuneful spiings— 
 Merry Alice ! 
 
 vn. 
 
 Oh, so soft that voice's tone, 
 Like the young trees' breezy moan, 
 Who may not be charmed and won- 
 Gentle Alice ! 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Thou hast joy and youth and love — 
 Sweetest blessings from above — 
 A thousand more be o'er thee wove, 
 DarUng Alice ! 
 
 AN ADJURATION. 
 
 DEPAET, depart, oh, golden dream ! 
 Thou art too dear to me — 
 A joy so fearful and so wild, 
 So deep a mystery 1 
 
 rr. 
 
 Thy spell is on the summer sky. 
 The golden fruit and flowers. 
 
 And as one long and heavy sigh 
 Thou mak'bt the passing houi'S.
 
 Ifel MEMORY. 
 
 III. 
 I sit amid the closing shades 
 
 Of this lone, silent eve ; 
 And strive — but, oh, -with striving vain- 
 
 The fetters to unweave. 
 
 rv. 
 So happy am I for awhile, 
 
 And yet so sad agiiin, 
 A thousand throbs are in my heart 
 
 Of mingled bliss and pain. 
 
 v. 
 A joy —but 'tis a joy like that 
 
 The fairy-favored know — 
 A grief — but yet a grief unlike 
 
 All other griefs below. 
 
 rv. 
 
 The shadows are too sombre far 
 That o'er me flit and fall. 
 
 The light too brilliant and too glad — 
 I cannot bear it all ! 
 
 MEMORY. 
 I. 
 
 TnOSE eyes still haunt me with their deep love-light, 
 llright as the day-beams, pure as the stars of night. 
 Looking on mine with love so tnie and tender, 
 With a warm, treasure-Uke and holy splendor. 
 
 n. 
 
 Thou brought'st me joy to prize so long and well — 
 Thoughts of thee only brought ev'ry tear that fell ; 
 Life's fairest hour was in our first dear greeting, 
 Darkest of all, our last and lonely meeting.
 
 WORDS. U5 
 
 iir. 
 I dream that sweet dream o'er and o'er again, 
 Cold tbouyli my life be, yet will that spell remain, 
 Beats still my heart as wildly, fondly, truly 
 As when our happy love was blooming newly. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Most dear of all in long past hopeless years ; 
 Dearer than ever, now 'mid those bitter tears, 
 "Worshipped and treasured with such deep devotion, 
 Fair, precious gem, in Life's dark, troubled ocean ! 
 
 WORDS, 
 
 N 
 
 I. 
 
 TAY, tell me not, ah ! tell me not, " in sooth 'tis but a word," 
 
 j\ No deeper wound hath e'er been given by keen Damascus 
 
 sword 
 Than by those words which forth leap out from Passion's furnace 
 
 born. 
 Aimed at the quivering, writhing heart in obloquy and scorn. 
 
 n. 
 Ay, words there are whose lightest stroke will cleave through 
 
 heart and brain, 
 And leave that mark of blackness there till life be rent iu twain. 
 That glide like poison through the blood, jDervade the earth and 
 
 air, 
 And cast o'er life for evermore the shadow of despair. 
 
 rn. 
 
 Words ! words ! no darker curse hath e'er upon the earth 
 
 appeared. 
 Than that which on their airy wings the human soul hath sear'd. 
 Though years on years roll on and on, yet will the feting remain, 
 Which every art to charm away hath oft been tried in vain ! 
 
 7
 
 us THE STORM. 
 
 THE STORM. 
 
 THE voice of God is in the blast, 
 His power is in the sky ; 
 Denuuciiitious dark and dread, 
 With rapid wing, sweep by. 
 
 II. 
 
 The mighty trees bow down their heads 
 
 In horror and alarm ; 
 They know who "guides the whirlwind," 
 
 And "rides upon the storm !" 
 
 m. 
 
 That vivid flash from Heaven's own eyo 
 
 It cleaves the troubled air — 
 And now a roaring, crackling peal 
 
 Spreads onward there — and there ! 
 
 rv. 
 The white foam dashes through the night, 
 
 The Sea a-raging lies — 
 It Btriveth, in its maniac strength. 
 
 To combat with the skies — 
 
 To speed like conqueror in his pride, 
 And seek a new domain — 
 
 To humble down his sister, Earth, 
 And bind her with a chain. 
 
 VI. 
 
 All, all ye arms of Nature's might, 
 
 Ye are the work of One ! 
 And ye are guided by His hand. 
 
 And by His will alone I
 
 THE DREAM OF EDEN. 147 
 
 THE DREAM OF EDEN.* 
 
 WOE to tliee, Azra, woe ! * 
 
 No more for thee the rose shall blow, 
 No more for thee the palm-tree grow, 
 Never a green spot bloom within, 
 Where thou maj-'st rest the weary wing. 
 ■ The spell is writ on stars and moon, 
 And blazes in the light of noon ; 
 All, height and breadth and depth below 
 Seems not too mighty for that woe ; 
 It girdles round the earth and sea 
 Mine aU-embracing agony ! 
 
 Ten thousand throbs of hope and joy 
 Are now as arrows to destroy. 
 The dewy thoughts of one sweet hour 
 Descend in memory's fiery shower 
 Upon my heart, upon my brain ; 
 But plaint and prayer are all in vain. 
 Age on age has rolled 
 Since that knell accursed toll'd, 
 Bat its voice seems never ending, 
 With all other voices blending — 
 Never, never stilled or done, 
 Sound and echo knelling on ! 
 
 Woe to thee, Azra, woe ! 
 
 Once for thee the rose did blow, 
 
 Once for thee the palm-tree grow ; 
 
 And sweet, silent nooks of green > 
 
 Had thy soul for thoiights serene ; 
 
 Golden dreams, on rapid wing, 
 
 Swept the breezes of the spring ; 
 
 * This poem wnb puggeetod by nn Eastern legend, which tells of .1 pow- 
 erful monarch, who, having discovered that the CJarden of Edun Rtill cxi.-ted, 
 came to ita gate with nu invading army, and attempted to force ua eatrance, 
 despite the fiery sword of tho Cherubim.
 
 1« THE DREAM OF EDEN. 
 
 All the glowing mj-steries 
 
 Seeming in the earth and sides 
 
 Eushed before thy dazzled sight, 
 
 Curtiiined in a veil of light. 
 
 But a change came slowly stealing 
 
 O'er thy spirit-sight : 
 
 Mystic voices, low revealing, 
 
 Whispered in the night. 
 
 And a fonu before me shone, 
 
 The radiant Angel of the Sun, 
 
 Making all earth's flowers grow pale. 
 
 Earthly music but a wail, 
 
 Showing to my dazzled eye 
 
 The dream of a far, immortal sky. 
 
 "Woe to thee, Azra, woe ! 
 
 To seek that Eden here below. 
 
 Far off, far off, since the primal day 
 
 There in the solitude deep it lay, 
 
 Since the hour when its bright ones fled away. 
 
 Might not mortal win its bloom 
 
 Once again from night and doom ? 
 
 And the n:ighty curse despite 
 
 Bask in the bowers of Eden's light ! 
 
 Woe to thee, Azra, woe ! 
 A sweet voice whispered, " Thou shalt go !" 
 Glad as the breeze of the opening morn. 
 Swift was my soul on the wild waves borne 
 Over the desert away, away ! 
 On to the realms of another day. 
 Then low moans and murmurs came, 
 Specks of darkness, sparks of flame. 
 Mystic dreamings, strange and deep, 
 Forms that flit through troubled sleep, 
 Till, before the frowning gate, 
 Stood we two, with souls elate.
 
 HOME REST. 1*9 
 
 Through the clonds that darkly covered, 
 
 Through the brooding curse that hovered. 
 
 Wildly, madly rushed we on, 
 
 Deeming bliss and Eden won. 
 
 Sudden from the lurid gloom 
 
 Fl ished the fiery sword of Doom — 
 
 And the lightning round was flashing, 
 
 And the thunder-peal was crashing, 
 
 Till, blasted and crushed by that mighty pain, 
 
 I fell with the darkness and brand of Cain ! 
 
 "Woe to thee, Azra, woe ! 
 The bright shape stood no more below ; 
 But deep and loud a voice is heard. 
 Seething fire in every word : 
 " Never again to mortal eyes 
 Can be unclosed earth's Paradise. 
 No moi'e ! no more ! Eternal fate 
 Stands now, as ever, at the gate. 
 And unto him the doom shall be 
 Again who hopes and strives as thee !' ' 
 
 HOME-REST 
 
 THEY speak of the fame that is round me shed, 
 But I care for its light no more ; 
 The spell of that voice is for ever fled, 
 
 Which, perchance, I had prized before. 
 With the emerald wi-eath they may deck my brow, 
 
 To the lyre of the minstrel due ; 
 
 Vain is it all to my fond heart now — 
 
 I tuin from their praise to you !
 
 150 TO MARIA. 
 
 II. 
 
 Yes, -n^eariecl of all, thus I come to thee, 
 
 most dear on the earth below ; 
 
 Darli, dark were my way if I might not flee, 
 
 And rest in thy bosom so. 
 As the wandering bird that will panting come 
 
 From its flight o'er the stormy sea, 
 To rest its Aving in a shady home, 
 
 So, darling, I fly to thee ! 
 
 in. 
 
 O pnlse of my heart ! 'tis thy love alone 
 
 That can bring aught of joy to mc ; 
 All the gloiy and power that have e'er been worn 
 
 1 would spurn for one glance from thee. 
 As the sage will read on the midnight skies 
 
 To learn what his fate may be. 
 Spell-bound I gaze on those loving eyes, 
 The stars of my destiny ! 
 
 TO MARIA. 
 
 A VAI-EKTINE. 
 I. 
 
 TBTE stars of Heaven are in your eyes, 
 The breath of summer in your sighs, 
 A Grecian purity and grace 
 In every feature of your face. 
 
 n. 
 In every tone there's music's spell, 
 As if from angel lips it fell, 
 A sylph-likc i^lay in every move, 
 Light as the winds that round us rove.
 
 LII^ES. 151 
 
 III. 
 Ah me '. that every gift so rare 
 Should only add to my despair. 
 How can I hoi^e to -win and -wear 
 The very fairest of the fair ? 
 
 IV. 
 
 Maria t have you ever stood, 
 To gaze upon the silver flood 
 Meandering in sportive play, 
 So beauteously upon its way ? 
 
 V. 
 
 Have you remarked the pearly dew, 
 In purity resembling you ? 
 And have you heard two turtle-doves 
 Telling each other of their loves ? 
 
 VI. 
 
 Say, have you heard of " bosky dells," 
 
 Of purling streams and evening bells ? 
 
 And have you heard, beloved one 1— 
 
 Have you ever heard of "The Blarney Stsno ?" 
 
 LINES 
 
 FOUND ■WBiri'iSSr ON THE WAiL OF A PEISON CELL. 
 
 I. 
 
 OEUTNED hopes 1 ruined brain ! 
 O breaking heart that breaks in vain ! 
 I hear ye tell that all is past. 
 Amid the blackness wild and vast. 
 I hear strange murmurs o'er and o'er. 
 Cold phantoms flit mine eyes before, 
 And, 'mid the 'wildering maze, I hear 
 The bell of Fate toll loud and clear !
 
 152 zmES. 
 
 n. 
 
 [ bad sweet tlionglits. I had sweet drerjns, 
 Of gold and azure's roinglmg gleams, 
 I had deep throbs tha^ shook my breast ; 
 But now 'tis ail an icy rest. 
 I have no sighs, I have no tears, 
 I have no clashing hopes or fears, 
 I have no \ houghts but one alone, 
 That all is lost and all is gone ! 
 
 III. 
 O broken heart ! O rained brain ! 
 For you there comes no rest again ; 
 Far off, far off, to lands unknown, 
 All dark and dim I soar alone. 
 Afar, afar, from star to star. 
 Through those strange gates that hang ajar, 
 Away ! away ! 'till mortal eye 
 In vain endeavors to descry. 
 
 IV. 
 
 broken heart ! O ruined brain I 
 Thou knowest the madness and the pain ; 
 There is no green spot in the waste, 
 There is no drop of balm to taste. 
 
 For memory stretches forth her wand, 
 And all is now a frozen land- 
 Whore crowds of nameless, shapeless things 
 Are hovering round on rushing wings. 
 
 V. 
 
 Tct, once for me, amid the gloom. 
 Some flowers of Hope were taught to bloom ; 
 Sweet viKion;^ through the whirlwind sung, 
 For passion still was warm and young ; 
 And, borne on pleasure's tidal wave, 
 
 1 knew not Earth contained a gi-avc — 
 Believing, dreaming, bounding on. 
 Till all was lost and all was gone !
 
 SOLITUDE. 153 
 
 IV. 
 
 O broken heart ! ruined brain ! 
 Look back no more— yo look in vain ; 
 From out the past sharp arrows fly 
 Of mute and nameless agony. 
 Above thy youth, thy hopes, thy all, 
 There lies a heavy, sable pall ; 
 There is no hope — there is no sign — 
 'Tis silence all for fate like thine ! 
 
 SOLITUDE 
 
 I DWELL alone in a castle of pride, 
 Dim and remote, and grand, and wide •. 
 Alone through the stately halls I glide, 
 My own gray shadow to stand beside. 
 
 n. 
 
 Heavily hangs the mystic gloom 
 
 Over each vast and silent room — 
 
 Silent and cold as the very tomb, 
 
 And stamped with the stamp of a mighty doom. 
 
 ni. 
 
 There, in that castle old and gray, 
 Moulder the days of my youth away, 
 "With never a flower to bloom by day, 
 And never a star at night to play. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Eefnge or rest for me is none, 
 Save only that castle so dark and lone, 
 There, where the %\'inds of the winter moan, 
 And Fate sits grim on her iron throne !
 
 154 TO THE WAXDERIxa WIND. 
 
 TO THE WANDERING WIND. 
 
 SWEET wind, speed across the wave 
 As fast as fust as may be ; 
 There's some one there that wo\ild be glad 
 To heax some news of me. 
 
 n. 
 
 He's lonely, lonely now, I linow — 
 And how his heart would swell 
 
 To hear these kindly messages 
 From one who loves him well ! 
 
 III. . 
 Thou wilt be sweeter to his ear 
 
 Than music's sweetest tone ; 
 An' thou wilt breathe those whisperings 
 
 I pour to him — my own ! 
 
 IT. 
 
 Oh, Rfiy to him the world is cold, 
 
 And I mi^ht never dare 
 To trust unto its cruel hands 
 
 This secret dear and rare. 
 
 V. 
 
 Bvt thon, sweet wind, for him will be 
 
 A.n a'lgf-l voice to cheer. 
 And tell him every sorrowing throb, 
 
 And eveiy hope and fear,
 
 TO THE WAKVERINO WIND. 155 
 
 TI. 
 
 And how this heart has pined, alas ! 
 
 For many a weary day, 
 And known no rest, or peace or joy 
 
 Since he was torn away ; 
 
 YII. 
 
 And how it beat for him alone 
 When wc were side by side, 
 
 And how ev'n wai-mer, truer still. 
 Though anyry seas divide ; 
 
 VIII. 
 
 And, though sad years may roll away. 
 
 That I'll bo true and leal ; 
 'Tis Death's strong hand alone can break 
 
 That dear and sacred seal. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Then, breathe upon him, gentle wind, 
 And kiss his cheek and brow, 
 
 And softly wave above his head 
 The green o'erhanging bough. 
 
 And tell him that I hear them say 
 
 This land is lovely still, 
 But all is dark and drear to me. 
 
 In valley or on hill ; 
 
 zi. 
 
 That earth has but one happy spot — 
 
 Wherever he may be, 
 And tliat where he is not, is all 
 
 A dismal waste to me.
 
 156 A TEARyiyG VOICE. 
 
 111. 
 Yet, leave him not, oh, loving wind, 
 
 Vuthout one "whisper more, 
 Too faint for mortal kind to hear, 
 
 Too prized aloud to pour. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Speak, speak unto his inmost soul 
 The deepest thoughts of mine, 
 
 And then bring back across the sea 
 Some tender, secret sign ! 
 
 A YEARNING VOICE. 
 
 I]TPiOM the breeze a sigh, from the flowers a smile, 
 ^ As they gave to me in the days erewhilo ; 
 From the morning sun one golden beam, 
 As upon me shone in my childhood's dream. 
 
 II. 
 From (he past one tone of its melody, 
 Like summer dews to the witheiing tree, 
 I sigh for now as I muse alone, 
 With Joy and Hope from my pathway flown. 
 
 III. 
 From the fluttering leaves a low, kindly voice, 
 As once thc-y bade mo in lifo rejoice. 
 From the heart that throbs in my weary breast 
 One little moment of gentle rest. 
 
 IV. 
 
 From the present a draught of oblivion's spring. 
 That my thoughts no more to one memory cling. 
 From friend and foe forgelfuluess. 
 And, dying, my words shall be but to bless.
 
 A DREAM OF THE ARCTIC SEAS. 157 
 
 A DREAM OF THE ARCTIC SEAS.* 
 
 I. 
 
 BOKXE on the vdngs of a strong desire, 
 As if by tho rushing wind, 
 Cleaving the pathway of blue and fire. 
 
 That world I sought to find — 
 The desert of icj'^ dome and column, 
 
 Of silence and darkness dread. 
 Where, from Nature's cheek in death-trance solemn, 
 Color and warmth have fled. 
 
 n. 
 
 Piercing the gloom of the deiise eclipse, 
 
 Fast bound on the spreading floe, 
 Ssen are the men and the tall proud ships, 
 
 Black-shadowed amidst the snow. 
 Veterans, grey in long enduring, 
 
 Bronze-cast in a Titan mould. 
 And youth, with its dreams and hopes alluring, 
 
 In its glow of molten gold. 
 
 in. 
 
 Under the shade of the beetling crags, 
 
 Clear cut on the steel-blue sky, 
 Hemmed by treacherous, smooth ice flags. 
 
 Patient and calm they lie. 
 Around them now are the depths awaking, 
 
 A cry as of pain and strife ; 
 The fettered fountains are slowly breaking 
 
 Their way unto light and life. 
 
 * See Narratives of tlie ExpediliuasiJf Sir John Eranklin, ami subsequent 
 Arctic explorers.
 
 153 A DREAM OF THE ARCTIC SEAS. 
 
 rv. 
 
 Past is that midnight of -watching and fears, 
 
 And now o'er the heading skids 
 The silent tumult of dawn appears 
 
 In gorgeous and glowing dyes. 
 Swift, amid varying smiles and bkashes, 
 
 The violet clouds unfold, 
 Till up to his throne the day-god rushes, 
 
 In pomp of flame unrolled ! 
 
 But that high faith that will dare and cope, 
 
 At length they have proudly won ; 
 The massy portals before them ope 
 
 To the glittering keys of the sun. 
 And now on that track, so brightly glowing, 
 
 By favoring breezes fanned, 
 On where the stream is freely flowing 
 
 Anear to the promised land ! 
 
 VI, 
 
 Grim is the frown of the Arctic King, 
 
 Sternly he forgeth his chains ; 
 But vain his power o'er the bounding spring. 
 
 So warm within those veins. 
 Swift is the sail, on its smooth way gliding. 
 
 Swelled by the pulse of the bravo, 
 And the voices of fame and duty guiding 
 
 Over the dreary wave. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Here, at the goal, the victor stands — 
 
 Here with the dream fulUlkd ; 
 But why, with nerveless and cold-clasped hands, 
 
 And voices strangely stilled. 
 Hover around him, pale and tearful. 
 
 The tried and tmsted band ? 
 What are the words, so low and fearful. 
 
 That scorch like burning brand ?
 
 A DREAM OF THE AUG TIC SEAS. 150 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Ah ! the hind eyes of the guide and seer. 
 
 Say not they are dark and dim ; 
 Sceth he not with a vision clear, 
 
 Far o'er that icy rim ! 
 Woe is onr lot ! he looketh yonder, 
 
 The shadows of pain on his brow — 
 To another home and land of wonder 
 
 His good ship turned the prow. 
 
 « « » • 
 
 IX. 
 
 Mockingly sparkled the false cold light 
 
 On the icy tomb of the chief, 
 And over the desert, vast and white, 
 
 Strong men dropped down in gnef ; 
 Low on the mast the colors are trailing. 
 
 Low as the hopes of the brave, 
 And the death-poal sounds, 'mid tears and wailing. 
 
 Over that Arctic grave ! 
 
 X. 
 
 Here on the breast of the frozen pack, 
 
 "W'hcre the chasm is deep and wide, 
 Yawning before them v.intry black 
 
 The mom-ners stand side by side ; 
 Down in the depths a heart-wrung moaning 
 
 Over the vanished clay. 
 And now the last prayer in its sad intoning 
 
 Dies on the breeze away 1 
 
 XI. 
 
 Mourn him not that with dauntless hand. 
 
 Through the world's dark strife and -sMrong, 
 Loving and loyal, and calm and grand. 
 
 lie hath borne that torch along — 
 The torch that hath lighted the gloom of the ages, 
 
 Of knowledge and purpose high. 
 Held on through the ranks of the heroes and sage3 
 
 Whose lot was to struggle and tlie !
 
 ijo cnmsTMAS carol. 
 
 SII. 
 
 Tor the last throb of that noble breast, 
 
 The stillness and cold of death, 
 In quick'ning flame to the world hath passed, 
 
 A new and strong life-breath. 
 Far better the sorrow on high that raises. 
 
 To the hght of a purer day, 
 Than the joy which often the soul abases 
 
 To the level of human clay ! 
 
 CHRISTMAS CAROL. 
 
 !• 
 
 DOWN by the pathway faintly blue 
 That slopes from the Eastern gate, 
 Trails the white robe upon our globe 
 
 Of a monarch in royal state. 
 O merry, meiTy Christmas, « 
 
 O time of sunless snow, 
 When the starry worlds are brightest, 
 And the North winds laughing blow 1 
 
 "With the bounding step of early youth 
 
 lie hurries upon his way ; 
 Around him troop a joyous group 
 
 "Who care not for June or May. 
 For merry, merry ChristmaB 
 
 Of the d;tzzling ice and snow. 
 And the holly and ivy shining. 
 
 Is pleasanter far I know.
 
 THE LOVER KiyG. 161 
 
 m. 
 He "waves arouncl his sceptred hand, 
 
 And son"C>w and sin must flee ; 
 In that magic ring that girts the king 
 
 No evil has powtr to be. 
 O merry, merry Cliristmas, 
 
 "When sacrc d hearth-fires glow, 
 And music and song and laughter 
 
 Around them, at evening, glow ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 In vain, in vain the dead years rise. 
 
 And Avhisper, "we, too, have been !" 
 They may moan and wail, but -we'll hear no Udc 
 
 From such phantoms cold, I ween. 
 For 'tis mcn-yruieny Christmas, 
 
 And though never a rose may blow. 
 Yet the green leaves dance and glitter 
 
 Tlu'ough the wreaths of the spotless snow ! 
 
 THE LOVER KING. 
 I. 
 
 ii TIE said: 'I am a crowned King, 
 
 Y\ Maiden, gentle maiden ! 
 And I love the loveliest flower of spring, 
 
 Thou'lt be my bride, sweet maiden ?' 
 Then the words that once thou heardst from ms 
 
 Were spoken, spoken. 
 And the sacred a'ow I made to thee 
 
 Was broken, broken ! 
 
 II. 
 
 " Thy rival has a brow of pride, 
 
 So fearful — oh, so fearful ! 
 And I turned at first from his glance aside. 
 
 All shuddering and tearful.
 
 1C3 THE LOVER KINO. 
 
 But the deep, sad darkness of his eyes 
 
 Grew dearer, dearer. 
 As I drew, with hushing, throbbing sighs, 
 
 Still nearer, nearer. 
 
 in. 
 
 " Yes ! I was thine, but that is o'er — ' 
 That past is dimmed and faded; 
 
 I'll rest no more at the cottage door, 
 By the clustering ivy shaded. 
 
 Thy love I know how true and warm, 
 For ever, ever ; 
 
 But couldst thou break this mighty charm ? 
 Oh, never, never ! 
 
 " He holds my hand within his own. 
 
 Ho, my lord and lover, 
 And his clasp is as cold as the marble Btone, 
 
 But it will loosen never. 
 He tears the wreath from off my brow, 
 
 In showers, in showers — 
 ' Thy crown shall be of the star-gems now, 
 
 Not flowers, pule flowers !' 
 
 " Onr lips are pressed in that solemn plight — 
 
 Strange, the joassionate greeting 
 Makelh my cheek not red, but white, 
 
 Through all this wild heart-beating. 
 Ilark ! I hear his step again, 
 
 Low falling, falUng, 
 And his voice is not in vain. 
 
 Still calhng, calling 1"
 
 LOOKING m. 163 
 
 LOOKING IN. 
 
 I. 
 
 THE shado-ws of the evening gather faintly, 
 Grey and pensive, on the motintaiu and the plaii? 
 Bringing memories of the dead time, sad and saintly, 
 Blended strangely in a low, funeral strain- 
 
 II. 
 
 Oh, that thought the earth and ocean all pervading, 
 Brooding over, or in sunshine or in rain, 
 
 Tingeing all the wide horizon with its shading, 
 ILilling slowly with the poison of its pain. 
 
 in. 
 
 My soul's deep chords have all too high a tension. 
 Wrought to fineness far beyond this mortal clay ; 
 
 Standing lonely on the mountain of Ascension, 
 Distant far I see the piuer, clearer day. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Dying of the longing and the aspiration, 
 
 Dying of the sense of beauty strung to pain — • 
 
 The burthen of a mighty desolation, 
 And the dream of that which ne'er will come again.
 
 161 THE t "ARVIAN ANGEL. 
 
 THE GUARDIAN ANGEL. 
 
 THE tempted wife at midnight sat alone, 
 Aud round the dreary house was heard the low wind's moan ; 
 And dimly fell the shadows on the wall, 
 Of the trees outside, the windows dark and tall. 
 
 n. 
 
 She listens not, I wis, the breezj' wail, 
 
 Nor looks upon the tangled shadows, faint and pale, 
 
 She watches for a step she should not hear, 
 
 Aud a form that oucrht no longer to be dear. 
 
 III. 
 
 " My husband is a man of cruel sin ; 
 Aud long and long I dreamed and hoped his heart to win, 
 But vaiu was all, through years of grief and shame, 
 Aud I cast from me for aye his name and fame. 
 
 IV. 
 
 " I loved him not with youth's first holy love ; 
 But love would grow again, I said, from light above, 
 For me, the wedded one, would now remain 
 Of the bitter past no shade of care or pain. 
 
 " No pulse wilhin my heart e'er beat untrue ; 
 I fjnenchcd withia my soul each dream that once I knew. 
 Through day and night I stnaggled with my wrong — 
 But no more to him, the tyrant, I belong !
 
 TIIE GUARDIAN ANGEL. 163 
 
 TI. 
 
 " My darling "baby, withered at my bieast, 
 Ah ! faded as the shadow when the light is past ; 
 Then flashed the levin bolt, the storm-wind blew, 
 Till from out the night of grief a dark thought grew. 
 
 Til. 
 
 " Sad, burning tears fell o'er (he golden hair, 
 The waxen-rounded cheek, so lily-soft and fair — 
 There was a seraph gone to seek the sky. 
 And a sinner left on earth to mourn and die. 
 
 nil. 
 
 " Then memory rose and whispered in mine ear, 
 
 Till olden feeling, long, long chilled came rushing near ; 
 
 Oh, not as once in garb of heavenly white. 
 
 But all gloomy, black and wild as winter's night. 
 
 rx. 
 
 "From Hope's pale ashes, smouldering on the hearth, 
 Eose up the lurid flame of Passion's second birth- 
 Love ! love 1— oh, call it not, that curse so fell, 
 That descends upon the soul like a demon spell. 
 
 X. 
 
 " Its grasp of iron seizes on my heart, 
 
 And from a hapless home this lone hour I depart, 
 
 Far, far away to sorrow and to sin" — 
 
 Lo ! a form is there the dreary room within. 
 
 XI. 
 
 A bright star glitters through the heavy gloom ; 
 And, waving o'er her head, she sees a sno\\-y plume ; 
 And into hers look do^ra twaeycs of blue, 
 With the light of seraph love, so pure and true.
 
 IM PSYCHES DREAM. 
 
 XII. 
 
 " I am an angel near tlio awful throne, 
 
 And from my home, to save you, hither I have flown. 
 
 The babe that nestled iu your breast and died 
 
 Is thy guardian-spirit now, to bless and to guide ! 
 
 xm. 
 " The love thou gavest on earth, so strong and rare, 
 Tor aye in Heaven now thy little one will share ; 
 And thou shalt fondle me another day. 
 If this horn- on bended knee thou'lt kneel and pray," 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Then slowly fades the vision fi'om her view. 
 
 The snowy, waving plume, the eyes of angel blue; 
 
 And as her tears fall do^^•n in stormy rain, 
 
 From her soid hath passed away the guilty stain. 
 
 PSYCHE'S DREAM. 
 
 IN wreathf-d bowers of asphodel. 
 Beneath that sweet and wondrous spell, 
 A while bird nestling in the sun. 
 She leans, the loved and lo%-ing one. 
 Soft and still in her perfect rest. 
 Decked by the light that warms her breast, 
 Calm as a May-cloud, dreaming on, 
 No hope, no wish — for all is won. 
 Two snowy wings enfold her round, 
 Two gentle eyes look into hers. 
 Bright as the daj'-god's brightest beams, 
 Pure as the holy stars — • 
 Fathomless blue — as the glorious Bides, 
 Veiling unspeakable mysteries I
 
 NEAR ME. 167 
 
 Pale, rosy cloudlets float above, 
 
 No whisper stirs the lotos leaves, 
 
 But one loug, golden Aveb of light. 
 
 The silence gently weaves. 
 
 There is no sound, not ev'n a breath; 
 
 It seems not life — yet is not death, 
 
 But the everlasting dream of youth. 
 
 The full content of Love, in sooth. 
 
 The vision glorious and all-seeing, 
 
 To pierce the heights and depths of being. 
 
 The breathless hush of happiness. 
 
 That cannot be more, that ■will ne'er be less. 
 
 As if each spring of joy had met 
 
 Wilhin one vast, eternal ocean, 
 
 "Which there, in deep, imperial trance. 
 
 Slept -without -wave or motion — 
 
 As if no change might ever come, 
 
 As if no shade could ever fall. 
 
 But, bound within a magic ring. 
 
 Were Time and change and all ! 
 
 NEAR ME. 
 
 I. 
 
 VTEAR me, near me, 
 
 ]}{ This heart never knowing. 
 
 Strong as its tide for thee, 
 
 Ever is flowing. 
 "Was there no spell 
 
 In my love or my sadness, 
 To bring me a moment 
 
 This OTie gleam of gladness ?
 
 168 NEAR ME. 
 
 n. 
 
 Near me, near me, 
 
 And I was still lonely, 
 Winds and the stars of night 
 
 Wai ched with thee only. 
 Even the dark waye 
 
 Might bound on to meet thee, 
 While never a welcome 
 
 From my lips might greet thee ! 
 
 m. 
 
 Near me, near me, 
 
 And now it is over, 
 O'er hill and wild again 
 
 Thou art a rover ; 
 But that old haunt. 
 
 So still and so hoary, 
 Shall shino evermore 
 
 With a Ught and a glory ! 
 
 IV, 
 
 Near me, near me, 
 
 In sorrow and danger, 
 Hadst thou none near to thee 
 
 But the cold stranger ? 
 Was there no hand 
 
 Or no heart of affection, 
 To cheer or to cherish 
 
 With fond recollection ?
 
 ON THE HEIGHT. 169 
 
 ON THE HEIGHT, 
 
 UP on the dreary mountain peak, 
 Engirt with ice and snow, 
 The warm, gi-een world, the human world. 
 
 Ten thousand feet below ; 
 And yet no nearer Heaven, for all 
 The grandeur and the glow. 
 
 Far off from earth, far off from Heaven, 
 
 Beneath the river's flow. 
 Dim through the mist the green boughs wave. 
 
 The summer roses blow, 
 "While on the mountain peak I stand. 
 
 Engirt with ice and snow. 
 
 ni. 
 
 Far off, far off, the loving world — 
 
 The world of long ago. 
 The phantoms flit, all pale and faint. 
 
 As evening shadows grow — 
 And echoes come, with wailing sound, 
 
 From hollow depths below. 
 
 IT. 
 
 Pure, cold and calm, the starry host 
 
 Have given my soul to know 
 The essence of all lofty things ; 
 
 But, ah ! the price is woe. 
 The heaven of love is sealed above. 
 
 And earth is far below ! 
 
 8
 
 170 THE LIVIXG AND THE DEAD. 
 
 THE LIVING AND THE DEAD. 
 
 I. 
 
 ii pOME, Mother, come !" 
 
 \j Low those baby voices murmur in mine ear ; 
 Gently, softly to the heavenly home, 
 
 Loving baby arms still draw me near. 
 And I, from earthly pain and grief unending. 
 
 Am beckoned onward to the purer day, 
 Where they, the little "shining ones," are standing, 
 
 To clasiJ me, freed from taint of human clay ! 
 
 IT. 
 
 "Stay, Mother, stay!" 
 
 Thrilling is the cry from this poor world of sin. 
 "We, thy earth-ones, fainting on the way, 
 
 Leave us not amid the hideous din !" 
 Strong those little arms to earth enthralling — 
 
 More their need — and I must turn away 
 From angel smiles and angel voices calling. 
 
 To toil and wait until the allotted day !" 
 
 QUEENSLAND. 
 
 THOU art, in sooth, a lovely land. 
 As fair as ever fancy painted. 
 In virgin freshness calm and bland, 
 
 By shadows dark untainted. 
 But, ah ! upon that bright expanse, 
 
 The glory of a clime Elysian, 
 
 'Tis but a cold and soulless glanco 
 
 That meets the gazer's vision.
 
 QUEENSLAND. 171 
 
 n. 
 
 No poet fancies o'er thy skies 
 
 Sprciid tints Ihat hallowed live for ever; 
 No old tradition's magic lies 
 
 On mountain, vale and river ; 
 There ia no heart within thy breast, 
 
 No classic charm of memories hoary. 
 No footprint hath old Time imprest 
 
 On thee of song or story. 
 
 in. 
 
 O barren land ! O blank, bright sky 1 
 
 Methinks it were a noble duty 
 To kindle in that vacant eye 
 
 The light of spirit-beaiity — 
 To fill with airy shapes divine 
 
 Thy lonely plains and mountains, 
 The orange grove, the bower of vine. 
 
 The silvery lakes and fountains. 
 
 IV. 
 
 To wake the voiceless, silent air 
 
 To soft, melodious numbers ; 
 To raise thy lifeless form, so fair, 
 
 From those deep, spell-bound slumbers. 
 Oh, whose shall be the potent hand 
 
 To give that touch informing, 
 And make thee rise, O southern land, 
 
 To life and poesy warming ?
 
 173 A FAREWELL. 
 
 A FAREWELL. 
 
 TT70E ! oh, woo ! — for thee — for me, 
 \ y 'Twere -well no day had ever dawned, 
 Ere this black gulf of misery 
 
 So fearfully had j-awned. 
 The hopes, the dreams of early spring, 
 
 Beneath thai withering curse are dead. 
 As if Azracl's sable wiug 
 
 Upon the blast had sped. 
 
 There is no hope from earth or sky 
 
 Upon this sea of dark despair ; 
 Not one wild wave that dashes by 
 
 May calm for plaint or prayer. 
 'Tis voiceless — nameless — shapeless all, 
 
 This crushing weight on heart and brain, 
 Though time and change around may fall. 
 
 For Uds they fall in vain ! 
 
 ni. 
 
 Farewell, farewell, though nought might be 
 
 Of wrong or woe I would not dare, 
 No deadly doom of agony 
 
 For those bright dreams that were. 
 Thou knowest, alas ! 'tis all in vain, 
 
 We may not break the fearful spell. 
 Though heart and soul be rent in twain, 
 
 'Tis only now— farewell !
 
 ONE JOT. 1T3 
 
 ONE JOY 
 
 MY morning clrcamR are sadly floTvn, 
 My thoughts arc bright no luoro ; 
 Tlope, joy and fame from me are gone. 
 
 That fair and shining store. 
 The spell is fled from vale and hill, 
 -From stream and mountain blue, 
 Those dreams are gone, no more to smile- 
 I have no dream but you ! 
 
 n. 
 
 I have no dream or joy but you 
 
 Witliin the world to-day ; 
 One star alone still burns as true, 
 
 To Ught my dreary way. 
 Mine were, indeed, a gloomy sky, 
 
 "Without that love of thiuo, 
 And I will ask no other light 
 
 "While I can call it mine. 
 
 nr. 
 
 Oh, dearer than a thousand joys 
 
 That om alone to mo — 
 'Mid precious things that time destroys 
 
 Thy love will never flee. 
 The lamp within the lonely tomb, 
 
 The pearl within the sea, 
 They uro not brighter, 'mid the gloom, 
 
 Than is that love to me !
 
 I7i 227^ RUINED LTRE. 
 
 THE RUINED LYRE. 
 
 I SEIZED the lyre, find would have sung 
 That burning tale of other years — 
 The love, the grief, that madly wrung 
 From out my heart Ihe bitter tears ; 
 I would have sung my blighted youth, 
 
 Bereft of every golden dream, 
 Its morning hopes of trust and truth, 
 Lilie dead weeds floating down the stream. 
 
 n. 
 
 But as I touched the trembling string, 
 
 "With lowering brow and flashing eye, 
 Came Passion on its sable wing, 
 
 And rent the chords in passing by. 
 "Poor wretch," he said, with laugh of scorn. 
 
 " Wouldst thou, indeed, essay to tell 
 What in mine empire hath been born. 
 
 By any power of mortal spell ?" 
 
 TO.. 
 
 So, drooping, chilled, I seek in vain 
 
 From those sad, broken chords to win 
 The truthful tones that I would fain 
 
 Evob'e from this wild tempest din. 
 Though memory try with skilful hand 
 
 To tell the tale at Love's desire. 
 It comes not forth at her command. 
 
 From this x>oor rent and ruined lycQ \
 
 WRECKS. 175 
 
 WRECKS 
 
 I. 
 
 DOWN in the depths of my spirit, 
 Down in the fathomless sea, 
 Wrecks \\Y>on -m-ecks are buried 
 
 Of a rich argosy. 
 In the brown sea-weed, tangled, 
 
 Skeleton things abide, 
 Silver and gold are mingled. 
 Jewels of kingly pride. 
 
 II. 
 
 I seek in the depths of my spirit. 
 
 Seek for the treasures rare ; 
 Down, Uke a weary diver, 
 
 I dive for the pearls fair. 
 Eut, ah ! from the bleak abysses 
 
 No jewels I bear, nor gold, 
 But only from fragments scattered 
 
 The skeletons white and cold ! 
 
 EPITAPH ON A SINNER. 
 
 PLACE not over me, the rich man cricth, 
 From the cold earth where he mouldering lieth. 
 On the promptings of your pride or anguish, 
 Stately tomb of marble where I languish. 
 Sculptured marble, snowy white or painted, 
 Serveth not to hide this carcass tainted ; 
 Dense the walls that should its foulness cover, 
 Dense and dark that lie might see it never. 
 For the tomb, then, of my deep perdition. 
 Tear the Titan mountains from their station ;
 
 176 GLIMPSES. 
 
 In your mercy, quickly bring them hither, 
 Pile them o'er me mass on mass together. 
 And when that dread trumpet londly rages 
 That through all the everlasting ages 
 Kame of mine bo seen not in those pages, 
 "When the curst and blest receive their wages 1 
 
 G L I ]\I P S E S . 
 
 SOIME low wind whispers through my soul to-day, 
 And wafts me faintly down the mystic tide 
 Of long-lost youth, and hope, and early dreams, 
 "Where shadows' murmurs, dim and sile-nt gleams 
 Around me swiftly flit, and float, and glide. 
 Till fades the present from mine eyes avray ! 
 
 n. 
 
 The curtain rustles in th' enchanted air, 
 And glimpses through its mystic folds I see, 
 "With happy tears, and mournful smiles that deep 
 "Within my bosom's troubled waters sleep — 
 There are such lights and s;hades of memory, 
 Such trembling music in the years that were ! 
 
 in. 
 
 The horizon widens round mo clear and blue, 
 And thoughts glide in that faded long have been. 
 With magic swiftness to my eager ej*js, 
 And breathings come that seem of Paradise. 
 Fresh breezes blow, from forests cool and green, 
 In that far land so long concealed from view !
 
 8* 
 
 DE PROFUNDIS. 177 
 
 DE PROFUNDIS. 
 
 [nineteenth CENTUItr PHILOSOPHEIJ, LOQmTtJK.l 
 
 DREAMEES, thinkers of the endless ages, 
 Seek no more to read the mystic pages ; 
 Lie do\\-n moaning in yoixr darkened cages, 
 As the wounded lion chafes and rages, 
 Yon that strive with pulses madly burning, 
 And the wild brain into darkness turning. 
 
 n. 
 
 Eagles that on wings of pride ascending, 
 Fain would pierce the bhie vault o'er us bending, 
 Ileaits that writhe with Ihat desire unending. 
 Vainly still your clay-made hovel rending. 
 Question not — for you comes no replying 
 From the night and silence round you Ijing. 
 
 in. 
 
 Ask not of the dead nor of the living. 
 In the frenzy of thy proud misgiving, 
 Past and present all their lave euweaving, 
 Biing for thee no power of calm believing — 
 Silence only to thine invocation. 
 Through the ^vilderness of vast creation ! 
 
 iv. 
 
 Thou shalt know not by the might of science, 
 Thou shalt know not by thy self-reliance 
 Nor by all thy scorufuJ soul's defiance. 
 Banded for the strife in gi-and alliance — 
 S lint nor saer those ebon walki shall sunder. 
 Hiding from thine eyes the land of wonder.
 
 178 DE PROFXrXDIS. 
 
 Moons and suns Eliall rise in endless glorj', 
 "Worlds on worlds be born and perish hoa'.y, 
 As leaves beneath the tempest's stormy foray ; 
 But Time to thee shall ne'er reveal the story. 
 Though thou try to read through mj-th and fable, 
 Dense before thee hangs the curtain sable. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Love shall rise within thee wildly surging, 
 Passion lift thy soul with demon scourging ; 
 Titan weapons from its furnace forging, 
 Onward to the battle ever urging. 
 To that war of endless, vain aspiring, 
 Power and knowledge for the doomed requiring. 
 
 VII, 
 
 Pain shall fling across thy brow its shading, 
 Sorrow in thy bosom live imfading. 
 Question ye in bitterness upbraiding ? 
 Life but droops beneath its heavy lading — 
 On its sad horizon ne'er shall brighten 
 One faint gleam the darkness to enlighten. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Down the gulf cf the Unknown arc tiimbhng 
 Stone on stone- with loud and hollow rumbling 
 Listening on the brink with fear and trembling. 
 Ho that casts them learns but lessons humbling, 
 Hears but echoes, mournful and appiiUing, 
 Through the abyss unfathomed vaguely calling.
 
 THE MAGIC GLASS. 179 
 
 THE MAGIC GLASS. 
 
 I. 
 
 rr a desert waste of Arctic snow 
 An oU mr.a w.mderecl to and fro ; 
 "Wild and weird, a:s if within the deeps 
 Of those sad eyes the love of ages sleeps. 
 Ha had risen from the long, long-dreaming tomb, 
 And on with weary step went seeking thi'ough the gloom 
 
 11. 
 
 Still seeking, seeking with a chill, 
 
 Amid the darkness dr -ad and still ' 
 
 Through the ice-bound region of despair, 
 
 For some faint glimmer of the days that were. 
 
 Vainly groping for that secret, hidden chain 
 
 That bound him. mortal, once to human joy and pain. 
 
 nr. 
 
 He stood before a magic glass. 
 
 To watch the flickering shadows pass — 
 
 Arms outstretched, and eyes that longing strain • 
 
 " Come back," he cried, "fair form ; come back again !" 
 
 As downward sank in shadow from his sight 
 
 A shape of rose-bloom and of starry light. 
 
 IV. 
 
 " Tes, that was Love, " he muttered low. 
 
 "Did I not know him long ago ?' 
 
 The spectre feels not, but remembers well — 
 
 He feels not, but remembers that old spell: 
 
 " O Love ! wilt thou return no more ?" ho faintly said. 
 
 "Within the frozen silence all was dark and. dead I
 
 180 A PRESENCE. 
 
 V. 
 
 Before him still the shadows flew. 
 
 Another ho would beckon, too. 
 
 "I the dead one saw her at my side — 
 
 Hope, my youth's iirst fair and gentle bride : 
 
 One smile of thine, the frozen waste to thaw !" 
 
 False as a dream — no more the shade he saw. 
 
 VI. 
 
 With hands prest on his drooping brow, 
 
 Still lower bent the old man now ; 
 
 " Am I, in sooth, to wander all alone 
 
 Upon the earth ?" he said, with shuddering moan 
 
 " Ev'u thy presence, Sorrow, fain would I behold, 
 
 To fill the pulseless blank of being still and cold 1" 
 
 VII. 
 
 But Sorrow, with averted eye. 
 
 Swept on her sable ijiniona by ; 
 
 In that wide waste of vacant, tor^iid death, 
 
 For him might breathe again no quickening breath : 
 
 "Within the magic circle of that frozen rim. 
 
 Love, Hope and Sorrow — all alike were dim 1 
 
 A PRESENCE. 
 
 BLACK as sable in the sunlight, still it tracks my footsteps 
 weary ; 
 White as snow within the midnight, at my side it moves along — 
 A-waking or a-rslccping, bo the scene or bright or dreary, 
 The ghastly thing is moving still amid the hurrying throng.
 
 A PRESENCE. 181 
 
 II. 
 
 Como no nearer, ali ! I pray thee, come no nearer in thy boldness, 
 Sec ! I tremble in my terror lest face to face wo stand — 
 
 My heart is shrinking strar gely with a stony, deathly coldness 
 At the glances of thy spectral eye, the touches of thy hand. 
 
 III. 
 
 No ! I cannot face thee — cannot ! though thou follow, never 
 ceasing, 
 Though thou seekest to stay mg ever — ever crave to meet mine 
 eyes ; 
 Panting fearful, still I hurry with a loathing aye increasing, 
 To tho cruel shape that follows, as a vulture ravening flies. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Oh, it is not of the living, oh, it is not of the breathing ; 
 
 "Why fear the dead, pale soitow laid to rest so long ago ? 
 As we feel the awful terror throiigh our nerves and senses 
 seelhiug, 
 
 ■\Mien the grave sends back a spirit to haunt om- path below ! 
 
 V. 
 
 Spectral presence-— awful presence ! no, in sooth, I cannot face 
 thee ! 
 Nerve and sinew fail and quiver when I think of thee, abhon-ed ; 
 Not by tears drawn hot and scalding from the heart's recess wo 
 trace thee. 
 But (he red drops that come pouring from the smiting of the 
 Bword. 
 
 TI. 
 
 Oh, my sorrow ! oh, my sorrow ! dweller of the deep abysses, 
 Oh, for blindness on mine eyelids ! oh, for deafness to mine 
 car ! 
 
 Ere I hear again anigh me thy fearful serpent hisses. 
 
 Ere I see thy cruel shadow on my pathway hovering near !
 
 182 TO WILLIE. 
 
 TO WILLIE. 
 
 IN then again, sweet baby mine, 
 This heaii hath found Creation's morning, 
 And Memory's cold and midnight gloom 
 Is now to Hope's fair sunlight turning. 
 Oh, soft as stars in evening's dew 
 Look into mine those eyes of blue ! 
 
 rt. 
 
 Bright days of spring come back again, 
 
 As once they were, all fresh and golden, 
 With all their wealth of budding flowers, 
 Since thou wert in those arms cnfolden — 
 Since first I saw the witching hue 
 Of those sweet baby eyes of blue. 
 
 III. 
 
 Low drooping with the grief of years, 
 
 Thy mother, sad and pale and fading, 
 Had dreamed her youth were cokl and dead 
 For aye beneath that sombre shading ; 
 But, ah ! what young life thrills anew 
 Through mc, from those dear eyes of blue ! 
 
 rv. 
 
 Thou hast awakened in my heart 
 
 Again its deep and strong emotion ; 
 A love like first love, warm and pure, 
 And Faitli and Hope and (rue devotion — 
 What draughts of Lovc'^s own nectared dew, 
 I drink from those sweet eyes of blue !
 
 MAEGARET FULLER OSSOLL 183 
 
 T. 
 
 Oh, child of all sweet dreams fulfilled, 
 
 White peail within my soul's deep lying I 
 Around thee brightly green again 
 Bloom out glad thoughts that once were dying — 
 Yes ! calm again is life, and true, 
 Seen through those darling eyes of blue ! 
 
 IMARGARET FULLER OSSOLL 
 
 0WO:\IAN of the mighty soul ! 
 Thou hast not lived in vain, 
 Although the wondrous power be stilled 
 
 Of that large heart and brain. 
 For one deep thought thy spirit knew, 
 
 Within its burning deep, 
 Ten thousand now, from other hearts 
 Exultingly Tvill leap. 
 
 n. 
 
 We mourn not that the gifted die — • 
 
 They do not pass away ; 
 Their dying brecdh is that of Ufa 
 
 For other human cluy. 
 What golden thoughts, what noble deed, 
 
 Thy woman's voice hath sown ; 
 Thou wert the winged and wandering seed 
 
 The winds of Heaven hath sown I
 
 IM SONNETS. 
 
 SONNETS. 
 
 SO^IE hand hatli rudely seized my life's sweet lyre 
 Aud turned its soul of music all astray, 
 So that my lingers now cun only play 
 For evermore in discords harsh and dire. 
 Yet, wrested from its harmony's desire, 
 It still hath breathings of another day — 
 Some sweet, sad notes that faintly yet aspire. 
 Up from the gloomy chaos of decay. 
 Lost is the golden key which could alone 
 My being tune to its primeval law. 
 And softly forth the olden, heavenly tone 
 Of pre-ordainment, natui'al and true, 
 Fi'om out my heart's recesses finely draw, 
 Tid life and joy upon me breathed anew. 
 
 n. 
 
 A black thought flew athwart the noonday sun — 
 
 A thought of terror, madness and desijau-, 
 
 And all things withered that before were fair ; 
 
 And a deep, frozen silence sat upon 
 
 The sphere of wide creation, faint and wan. 
 
 Life shook to its foundation, l.iying bare 
 
 Such scenes as well the eye might wish to shun. 
 
 Illumed by Tophet'a awful, dusky glare. 
 
 And linked wiih its eternity of p::in. 
 
 Is there no hope through all the years of gloom — 
 
 No hope for this wild darkness of the brain V 
 
 This cold death-sickness at the heart that gnaws — 
 
 This giant thought of hideous, nameless doom — 
 
 This raging whui that knows nor sleep nor pause ?
 
 SONNETS. 185 
 
 III. 
 
 There is .1 tumult loud my heart -within. 
 As of fierce waters prisoned far below 
 Dark counter-currents all that madly flow, 
 "With wailing voices rising through the din — 
 Eegrets, wild memories of despair and sin, 
 And yearnings vain for that which is no more, 
 . (Nor grief nor frenzy e'er can hope to win), 
 Swell upward now against the cavern door — 
 I ask not words, for these are all in vain, 
 To breathe again of aught 'twixt thee and mo ; 
 But that one moment through iliij heart and brain 
 The lightniug-cunent from my soul would sweep, 
 Charged with each throb of love and agony. 
 Ere yet I sink to mine eternal sleep ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 Before the traveller spread a lovely scene, * 
 As fair as Eden in its primal day — 
 Wide plains and hills and flower-gemmed meadows gay. 
 And orange-gi-oves in shining gold and green. 
 Wherein a stately city rose serene, 
 With many a graceful arch and dome and spire, 
 Depictured on the blue air's cloudless sheen, 
 And glittering in the crimson sunset fire. 
 A moment from that loveliness so rare 
 He turned — then soon his eyes again he raised, 
 And, lo ! where once had shone that city fair 
 He saw a putrid lake ! Ah, me ! have not those eyes 
 With change as dire and sudden once been dazed ? 
 One moment. Life and Love — the next, Grief's darkest 
 guise ! 
 
 * Father Kirscher, the Jesuit ti avelUr, describes this ocjcvirrence in his ac. 
 couut of the great Calabriau earthquake.
 
 185 STORM IN THE BUSH. 
 
 STORM IN THE BUSH. 
 
 I. 
 
 ABEEATHLESS stillness, strange, profound, 
 Broods o'er the plains and liills arotmd ; 
 Low gleams the sunset's lurid fire, 
 'Mid pallid shadows, gathering higher. 
 And threatening, muffled tones of ire. 
 
 II. 
 "With feathery, curling fringe of white, 
 They move along in eagle flight. 
 That smoke-hued, ghastly maze of clouds, 
 Athwart the heavens, in serried crowds, 
 Like spectres walking in their shrouds. 
 
 m. 
 Flash on flash, and peal on peal, 
 Quiveiiug darts the keen, blue steel — 
 Quivers and shoots afar, anigh. 
 Over the heavy pull of sky, 
 "Waiting the thunder's dread reply. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Flash on flash, and roll on roll. 
 
 The Heavens shrink " like a parched scroll,"— 
 
 Question— answer — quick and loud, 
 
 In rhythmic measure, fierce and proud, 
 
 Thi-ough the vast, echoing hulls of cloud ' 
 
 V. 
 
 Still gleams the blue and yellow flash, 
 And falls the quivering shock and crash, 
 "Till through the tumult and the paiu 
 The canopy is rent in twain. 
 And comes the deluge of the rain !
 
 THE JEWEL SEEKER. 187 
 
 A hush to all the fierce assault ! — _ 
 Now stills the trembling, quaking vault ; 
 And with a wild and elfin glee 
 The lightning laughs and dances free, 
 In thousand shapes of witchery ! 
 
 VII. 
 
 Now, fiery serpents intertwined ! 
 Now, Eunic letters strange combined ! 
 It writhes — it springs — it quivers — lo I 
 In globes of ruddy, crimson glow, 
 It shoots and falls to eartlf below 1 
 
 vm. 
 
 From out the strife, all pure, serene, 
 The young moon rises o'er the scene — 
 She flings aside her cloudy veil, 
 And, in profile, all pearly pale. 
 Bends loving glance o'er hill and dale ! 
 
 THE J E W E L - S E E K E R , 
 
 ii 11 /TY Lord Apollo !" bowing low, I said, 
 
 J) ]_ " Thou who hast scattered gems of priceless worth 
 To the four winged winds that sweep the earth. 
 Wilt thou not let me gather, that I, too, may wear 
 Some in the gemless crown that decks my poet head ? 
 A spark of Shakespeare diamond, perfect all, 
 Prisoning the sun within its glowing wall ; 
 Or MUton ruby, grand as night — sublime, 
 Piled o'er the glories of the starry clime, 
 Than morning's splendor more divinely fair 1" 
 " No, no," he said, " I hst not to thy prayer.
 
 1S3 ^EA ITT ly LIFE. 
 
 "To thy own self untrue then may'st not be, 
 
 In seeking that which is not ti'uly thine. 
 
 Dcop in thino inmost soiil search out the hidden mine 
 
 Which Nature's hand, I -wis, bestowed on thee ; 
 
 Albeit no gems of price within it shine, 
 
 Tet do I bid thoe rather prize the humblest stone 
 
 That thou may'st call in honest truth thine own, 
 
 Thau diamond, ruby, emerald, chrysolite. 
 
 Which were not thine by true and sacred right !" 
 
 DEATH IN LIFE. 
 
 ■VflGHT-BLACK, night-still, night-cold ! 
 
 |\| A waste of Polar snow. 
 
 Where no green thing th3 eyes behold, 
 
 Nor cvei-more can grow. 
 Thus, thus doth life appear. 
 
 Struck down and withered all — 
 The days, the hours, the long, long years, 
 
 Beneath an ebon pall. 
 
 n. 
 
 A fearful icy chill, 
 
 A dumbness of despair, 
 A silence, bl.ickness, deeper still 
 
 Than Death's gloom ever bare, 
 Are weighing down my soul — 
 
 Are curdling in my veins ; 
 No mortal eye may span the whole 
 
 In which such terror reigns !
 
 NEVERMORE. 189 
 
 m. 
 
 It is a chaos dire ; 
 
 Nor shap ,5 nor form I see, 
 Bui one eternity of ire, 
 
 As far as tliought may be — 
 A something that eludes 
 
 The grasp of heart and brain — 
 But over all my being broods 
 
 A wild and frenzied pain ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 Amid blacli: ruins T grope, 
 
 Bewildered and aghast — 
 Blind, deaf and speechless, with " no hope " 
 
 Above me looming vast. 
 It s(!ems as Space and Time 
 
 Had burst their ocean bed, 
 And all the surging waters chmb, 
 
 And close above my head ! 
 
 NEVERMORE. 
 
 OH, no ! oh, no ! a more than death, 
 A more than destiny is there ; 
 Some deeper gulf than ever hath 
 
 Been imaged by despair 
 Between us deepens. Time may fly, 
 And world on worlds be born and die, 
 But on the far, eternal shore 
 For us the surging waters roar — 
 The mournful dirge of nevermore !
 
 190 NEVERMORE. 
 
 11. 
 
 Again, again hot tears may fall, 
 
 And in each heart the past may httrn ; 
 But pangs nor longings can recall 
 
 Dead trust from out its urn. 
 That subtle poison, withering, fell. 
 And through the ages weaves a spell 
 That dies not, fades not— to the core 
 Of being pierces o'er and o'er 
 "With that undying nevermore I 
 
 in. 
 
 Some hops, perchance, there yet may be 
 
 For all that is of wildest pain. 
 Some vision dim the eye may t^ee 
 
 Of Love that blooms again 
 Some ending hath all other woe. 
 But change nor ending this may know : 
 Through all Time's wild and whirling roai 
 Cold, cold and dark our eyes before, 
 Is writ on marble — nevermore I 
 
 rr. 
 
 Oh, no ! oh, no ! for us the blue 
 
 And pearly clouds unfold in vain ; 
 In vain beyond we seek anew 
 
 To knit the broken chain. 
 There is a thought that hath no tomb— 
 A nameless, ceaseless thought of gloom. 
 That on the far, eternal shore 
 Stands fixed and frozen there before— 
 The mournful, silent— nevermore !
 
 PICTURES IN THE CLOUDS. 191 
 
 PICTURES IN THE CLOUDS. 
 
 I. 
 
 WHEN evening softly closes, 
 And breezes die 
 Among the summer roses, 
 
 I -wtitch the sky ; 
 Visions of mazy wonder 
 
 All faintly gleam — 
 See, they are passing yonder, 
 E'en as a dieam. 
 
 II. 
 There, as in magic mirror^ 
 
 Old forms arise, 
 Some now are drifting nearer, 
 
 In phantom guise. 
 Eager mine eye doth follow 
 
 Through light and shade. 
 As through the breezy hollow 
 
 Those pictures fade. 
 
 ni. 
 From halls of blue and amber, 
 
 A wtird array, 
 In endless windings clamber 
 
 Forth to the day. 
 Upon the wild wind flying, 
 
 They hurry on, 
 "While memory, faintly sighing, 
 
 Mourns they are gone ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 In strange and varying tissnea 
 
 Of smiles and tears. 
 That band slill onward issues 
 
 From grey old years ;
 
 192 nCTVRES IX THE CLOUDS. 
 
 Some decked in robes of splendor. 
 And some in slirouds, 
 
 Bui passing all asunder, 
 Those pictm-e clouds. 
 
 Again they tire unfolding, 
 
 That shadowy throng, 
 A magic power is moulding 
 
 Their march along. 
 Up from those depths so sombre 
 
 Old dreams in crowds, 
 Thiit well I do remember, 
 
 Flit in the clouds ! 
 
 TI. 
 
 The clustering flowers are blowing, 
 
 Of that bright June, 
 The silvery streams are flowing 
 
 In loving tune. 
 The summer's hoarded treasure. 
 
 Where is it gone — 
 Its red and gold and aziu:e ? — 
 
 The clouds sweep on ! 
 
 vn. 
 
 Far back, far back returning, 
 
 Still more I see — 
 With thoughts that now are burning 
 
 TumultuouKly. 
 Fade not, O glorious vision, 
 
 With sunht eyes, 
 From that bright land Elysian, 
 
 Within the skies !
 
 > 
 
 THE LAUREATE 193 
 
 THE LAUREATE 
 
 A BEPLY TO THE "■\VELCOM'E, 
 
 I. 
 
 THE son of Her who, 'spite of Nature's power. 
 Hath made thee poet in her wide domain, 
 Must loathe, I fear, the wishy-washy sti-ain 
 "With which thou greet'st His own Imperial flower, 
 
 AKred Tennyson . 
 
 n. 
 
 For Russian flower, perchance, a welcome meet, 
 So icy, chilling, sounds thy inissiah Ijnre — 
 Poor Mario ! home and love must rather tire, 
 
 If thou wilt bore her with thy vain conceit. 
 
 Miss Alfred Tennyson ! 
 
 ni. 
 " The golden news" ('tis gold to thee, in sooth — 
 Thy tiny whistle is a thing of tin !) — 
 Doth make around a somewhat deafening din, 
 As thou remarkedst, with poetic truth, 
 
 Alfred Tennyson ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 The voices of the sea (thou mean'st the fish !) 
 
 Inspired by loyalty no more are mute — 
 Canadian pines and Maoris follow suit. 
 And all together make a dainty dish- 
 Miss Alfred Tennyson ! 
 
 V. 
 
 " In lusty life both empires branching fair" — 
 Yet Byron's England lists to Alfx/a laj^s : 
 And critics wreathe thy brows •«dth deathless bays, 
 Thou, seated in the old Wordsworthian chair — 
 
 Alfred Tennyson. 
 9
 
 194 THE LAUREATE. 
 
 YI. 
 
 For "peoples" mostly "are as waifs that R\dng, 
 And float along" with Fashion's ebb and flow ; 
 But those who know should have the grace to snoi 
 
 That thou art neither minstrel-prince nor king, 
 
 Miss Alfred Tennyson. 
 
 VII. 
 
 I wish that thou wei-t in some stranger land, 
 
 ""Where men are bold, and strongly said their say :" 
 An' if thou wert, not surely here to-day 
 
 Shouldst hold the laureate sceptre in thy hand — 
 
 Alfred Tennyson ! 
 
 ■vm. 
 
 "What knowest ihoii of full life, thon puny heart ? 
 
 The current in thy veins diluted flows — ' 
 
 Thou sound'st no depth of human joys or woes; 
 
 sail life thou paintcst only by thine ai-t — 
 
 Miss Alfred Tennyson ! 
 
 IX. 
 
 Most certainly, thy verse wiU never " wake 
 
 Diviner airs," nor " change the souls of men ;" 
 Thy laboring, incubating, mooning pen 
 
 Perchance the taste of lettered fops may take — 
 
 AKrcd Tennyson ! 
 
 " Poefa nasrAtur nonfit," indeed ! 
 
 Why groat Victoria proves the opposite ; 
 
 Her hand has dubbed him — and she must be right, 
 And so that thou art poet ia our creed — 
 
 Miss Alfred Tennyson !
 
 THE SILENT LAND. 195 
 
 THE SILENT LAND. 
 
 I. 
 
 THEKE is a wondrous, vast and distant realm, 
 Oa whoso wide seas no traveller guides the helm ; 
 Through whose primeval forests, sadly green, 
 ^Vhere fruits and flowers in tangled wreaths are seen, 
 No footstep through all time hath ever been. 
 
 n. 
 
 Strange skies are there, strange stars and moon and sun, 
 Strange shapes that through the shadowy darkness run ; 
 And birds that soar aloft on radiant plume, 
 All gorgeous things of glory afid of bloom. 
 Circling and winding through the silent gloom. 
 
 ni. 
 
 A glaucous mist, a thin, frail, filmy screen, 
 This world and ours alone divides, I ween ; 
 Some cabalistic word at length is told. 
 And backward hath the mystic curtain rolled, 
 When, lo ! what wonders do the eye behold ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 The realm of silence ! Seek thou in its halls 
 Of fairy spells where echo never calls : 
 Thither have fled, like winged dreams, away 
 The subtle treasures of our earthly day, 
 Beyond the reach of eye or ear of clay. 
 
 More wondrous power hath passed to this strange land 
 Than e'er the mighty gifted may command. 
 Thither hath fled the poet's thought of fire, 
 Too subtle or too strong in its desire 
 For the weak compass of the tuneful Ijtc.
 
 106 ONE TnOUGHT. 
 
 Tr. 
 
 An ppic of gi-cat thoughts that fain were deeds. 
 Flung on the wild winds as the winged seeds, 
 Hath tlouted downward on the silent tide, 
 And, like white, towering lilies in their pride. 
 In deathless bloom for ever here abide. 
 
 TII. 
 
 Here gleam the regal gems, the golden store, 
 By passion wasted on this mortal shore ; 
 The truest poesy e'er writ or sung 
 Hath been in heart-throbs to the tempest flung, 
 Breathed to the night-stars in a silent tongue. 
 
 Tin. 
 
 The sighs, the tears unanswered and unheard 
 From out the depths of love and sorrow stin-ed. 
 That none below might treasure up or save, 
 Thon'lt find within this dim, mysterious cave — 
 This wondrous land, as silent us the grave ! 
 
 ONE THOUGHT. 
 
 THOU art around me like the living waters, 
 Ptesonant, ringing ihrough the earth and air, 
 Mysterious music from the depth that utters 
 Etermil thoughts in voices strange and rare. 
 
 n. 
 
 Thee, thee alone, for ever hearing, seein;?, 
 I wander silent on the mournful shore, 
 
 With all the vast horizon of my being 
 
 Filled up with that one thought unto its core.
 
 TWILIGHT. 107 
 
 III. 
 
 Thou wert •v^^thin my summer rich .and golden, 
 The soul that moved within my dreams of song ; 
 
 "VVithin the winter's gray thou art enfolden ; 
 To eveiy throb of life thou dost belong. 
 
 IV, 
 
 Yes, thou art round me, near me, strangely clinging, 
 Undimmed by those long years of weary pain ; 
 
 The living waters with their music ringing — 
 The one dear thought for ever to remain ! 
 
 TWILIGHT. 
 
 I. 
 
 IN the twilight of Urania, 
 In the dim and silent glades, 
 Lonely and lorn I wander 
 
 'Mid the pale and sorrowing shades- 
 Echoes of olden music, 
 
 Odors from blossoms shed. 
 Phantoms of love and gladness 
 From days that are cold and dead. 
 
 n. 
 
 In the twilight of Urania, 
 
 In that realm so still and grey. 
 Lone as a spectre straying 
 
 My days are passing away. 
 Cold and grey and voiceless, 
 
 Nor passion, nor hope, nor fear. 
 But the footstep of memorj' falling 
 
 All drearily on the ear.
 
 198 MATER REDEMPTORIS. 
 
 MATER REDEMPTORIS. 
 
 HAPPY Mother ! clasping to thy breast 
 The b;ibe new-born, 
 Entranced in thy golden rest 
 
 Of Love's own mom. 
 Maiden mother, with the drooping eye 
 
 And lily brow ! 
 None purer, fairer, breathes beneath the sky 
 More blest than thou ! 
 
 n. 
 
 O blest ! O favored ! thou whose parent-love 
 
 May thus adore, 
 And feel thy deepest throbs can never prove 
 
 Than duty more. 
 O thon, of Mothers all, the only one 
 
 Beneath the skies 
 Who may, unsinning, kneel before thy Son 
 
 And idolize ! 
 
 in. 
 
 O Mother ! thou whose heart can never know 
 
 That pain of pain 
 That others feel, whose darUng ones lie low 
 
 With sin's dark stain — 
 O thou, whose soul can never quake with dread. 
 
 Or faint in gloom, 
 Lest Judgment call upon the lovdd head 
 
 Eternal doom I
 
 ON THE SEA. 199 
 
 VI. 
 
 Mother of our Eedeemcr— Mother's heart ! 
 
 Oh, hear the prayer 
 That earthly mothers pour, with bitter smart, 
 
 In their desi:)air ! 
 " Cause of our Joy !" dispel the shades of grief 
 
 That loom above ! 
 "Health of the Weak!" give fainting hearts relief 
 
 In thy deep love ! 
 
 ON THE SEA. 
 
 UNDEB the skies of the Southern Cross 
 The sails are swelling to the breeze, 
 "Where skims the broad-winged albatross 
 
 Above the rushing, sparkling seas. 
 Gaily dancing, on wo go. 
 
 O'er blue waves tinged with creamy foam, 
 Like mountains capped by dazzling snow, 
 Still far from Erin — far from home ! 
 
 n. 
 
 Through sunny, breezy Capricorn 
 
 The sweet airs freshly round us play ; 
 We seek the fair and distant bourne. 
 
 Thus dancing onward, wild and gay. 
 With speed of sea birds' pinions light 
 
 The good ship hurries through the foam, 
 As if we swept not in our flight, 
 
 Far, far from Erin — far from home !
 
 200 ♦ THE LOST MAT. 
 
 THE LOST I\IAY. 
 
 •• "l FAY comes again," glad 
 lU " Fair May, iu all her i 
 
 voices Ring, 
 tender bloom, 
 Soft, fluttering near on sei"apli %ving. 
 
 To cbase the cloudy, lingering gloom. 
 Our loved one — from the whirling ring 
 
 Of Time — her smiles again illumo 
 The earth to-day, the earth to-day — 
 The long-loved smile of our darling Maj' I" 
 
 rr. 
 
 The young laburnum drops its gold, 
 
 The lilac rears its clustering head 
 In many a rich and heavy fold, 
 
 Till all the air ■with scent is fed. 
 It is as it hath been of old. 
 
 In cunning semblance perfected : 
 All bright and gay, all bright and gay — 
 
 " She cometh," they say, "our old, old May !" 
 
 iir. 
 
 The primrose in the coppice gleams, 
 
 Vennihon apple-blossoms glow 
 Beneath the light, with snowy seams. 
 
 And dew-drops in their cups below. 
 Soft murmurs break from silvery streams, 
 
 That on through cool, green meadows flow, 
 And BO they say, and so they say — 
 
 " 'Tis the .same sweet face of our long-lovcd SLiy !'*
 
 TBE LOST MAT. 20] 
 
 IV. 
 
 Ah, is it so ? A shadow peers 
 
 From out the past, with pallid hue, 
 She whispers : " 'Mid the culd, dead years 
 
 She lieth low whom once ye knew. 
 I come no more with smiles or tears, 
 
 Or cloudless skies of tender blue. 
 Within the clay, within the clay — 
 
 I sleep in my youth, the lost, lost May !" 
 
 Yes, yes ! she lies within the urn, 
 The moon, her crown, grew cold and wan, 
 
 Until on breezy cloudlets borne, 
 It melted slowly and was gone ! 
 
 Yet still they dream of her return. 
 
 The same that once before them shone, 
 
 The laughing fay, the laughing fay, 
 , That withered and died— the lost, lost May ! 
 
 n. 
 
 Beyond the bounds of space and time, 
 
 She floated to the silent shore. 
 The sacred seal of loss sublime 
 
 On her was set for evermore. 
 The eyes that saw her in her prime, 
 
 How mournful was the look they wore ! 
 When thus for aye, when thus for aye, 
 
 They knew she was gone— the lost, lost May 
 
 p*
 
 208 to A SPREAD EAGLE. 
 
 vn. 
 
 Adovm -with her on that dark tide 
 
 In Booth were borne some precious things, 
 Such forms of hfe and light and prido 
 
 As fancy's early morning brings ; 
 And dreams in rose-tints glowing dyed. 
 
 That soar aloft on dizzy wings, 
 Ah ! were not they — ah ! were not they 
 
 Once linked with the fate of the lost, lost May ! 
 
 vni. 
 
 Great tho-ughts that spanned the heavenly height, 
 
 Deep throbbings of a breath divine, 
 And Hope and Love, half hidden, bright, 
 
 Where dewy leaves and flowerets twine. 
 All, all have flitted from the sight, 
 
 Oh, nevermore on earth to shine — 
 All fled away, all fled away. 
 
 On the phantom wings of the lost, lost May ! 
 
 TO A SPREAD EAGLE. 
 
 A MIGHTY flourish of trumpets, 
 j\ A tcnible roll of drums, 
 And, lo ! on a curvetting Pegasus 
 
 The great " spread eagle " comes. 
 Kow for artistic ijussion 1 
 
 Erebus ! Jupiter 1 Mars ! 
 Up through the clouds he flies from us- 
 
 Kever to reach the stars !
 
 nTMN FOR THE MONTU OF MAT. 203 
 
 HYMN FOR THE MONTH OF I\IAY, 
 
 I. 
 
 HO"W lovely is thy face, O "Virgin Mother ! — 
 A lily filled with moonlight's crystal dew ; 
 How gentle is thy smile, O holiest Mother ! 
 
 Where Love and Mercy beam for ever new. 
 "White-winged angels near thee roam in gladness, 
 
 Rose of Jesse''s stem, in endless bloom ; 
 Foul demons hear thy name in fear and sadness, 
 And fly before thee, wailing to their doom. 
 
 II. 
 
 Here, at thy shrine, soul-storms are calmly luashing, 
 
 Heart-pangs are healed that long have rankhng lain, 
 Sweet tears, Uke silvery showers of spring, are gushing. 
 
 Where once were poured the blistering ih'ops of pain. 
 Oh, as the wintry clouds at length have vanished, 
 
 And summer comes again, with sun and blue, 
 All earthly passion by thy name is banished. 
 
 And we repose in Heaven's o-wn sunshine true. 
 
 in. 
 
 As leaves and flowers are round us brightly blowing. 
 
 In this fair moon of promise given to thee, 
 May Faith, and Hope, and Love spring out as glowing. 
 
 And green within our hearts for ever be. 
 O Rose of "Mystic Beauty !" " Star of Morning !" 
 
 Before thy shrine we lowly bend and pray. 
 While Nature's myriad beauties, now returning, 
 
 Hymn forth thy praise, O glorious Queen of May !
 
 aOi THE MEETINCE OF THE SAINTS. 
 
 THE INIEETING OF THE SAINTS. 
 
 [St. Patrick's Day in San Fbancisoo, 1877.] 
 
 A GUEST is come that should not wait 
 A welcome hero to win — 
 St. Francis, ope the Golden Gate 
 
 And let St. Patrick in ! 
 Oh, meet him, and greet him — 
 
 The stranger ever blest — 
 That tiny triplet bearing 
 Prom the green Isle of the West. 
 
 II. 
 
 He bringeth many a precious store, 
 
 To place at thy command ; 
 The cherished dreams and hopes of yore, 
 
 The memories bright and bland — 
 Upspringing and clinging, 
 
 They drink thy sun and dew, 
 And take ^vith spirit loyal 
 
 A fairer shape and hue. 
 
 III. 
 
 Ev'n as the glory of a dream 
 
 That sea of hills is seen, 
 "While all its velvet billows gleam 
 
 In violet and green ; 
 All flowing and glowing, 
 
 Beneath the morning sun, 
 As o'er the crystal waters 
 
 The saintly bark speeds on.
 
 THE MEETma OF TEE SAINTS. 205 
 
 rv. 
 
 " Here smiles the Tir' nan Oge!" * he said, 
 
 " With strange enchantments fraught ; 
 The land for which, in ages lied, 
 
 My children vainly sought ; 
 Eternal and vernal, 
 
 There Life's red currents flow, 
 And in immortal radiance 
 
 The flowers of Eden blow. 
 
 " Here, from the pure and living spring, 
 
 They quench their weary thirst, 
 And to the fostering mother cling. 
 
 Their fainting souls that nurst. 
 Oh, tend her, defend her, 
 
 As on her lofty way. 
 Through storm and gloom, she marches 
 
 Unto the perfect day !' ' 
 
 VI. 
 
 His hand is raised — he seems to bless 
 
 Each fair and fertile plain ; 
 The woods and hills in glowing dress, 
 
 The fields of golden grain ; 
 Each mountain, each fountain, 
 
 From which glad rivers flow. 
 The orange groves and vineyards 
 
 That blossom fair below. 
 
 TII. 
 
 O proud, majestic Cybele, 
 Enthroned in strength and grace, 
 
 "With teeming wealth of land and sea 
 Clasped in thy wild embrace ! 
 
 ••'Tir' nanOge"— r. «., The Land of Youth.
 
 206 THE YOUTH AND HIS SHADOW. 
 
 Enfolding and holding 
 
 Withiu those circling arms 
 
 The sacred cause of Freedom, 
 Secure in all its charms. 
 
 TTII. 
 
 Hail to thy future, bright and blest ! 
 
 Beheld by prophet eye, 
 Long may that benediction rest — 
 
 That prayer be heard on high ! 
 Entwining and shining, 
 
 May still the Shamrock be, 
 Where'er the starry banner 
 
 Waves o'er the land and sea ! 
 
 THE YOUTH AND HIS SHADOW. 
 
 A TALE. J\rorFKOM iESOP, 
 
 ATOUTH, M-ho was of stature somewhat small, 
 Walked one fine evening, as the setting sun 
 Upon the ground flung shadows vast and tall. 
 Of which his own, conspicuously, was one. 
 Before liiri eyes it spread of size gigintic, 
 A true rr-flection of himself, h(! thought ; 
 And, with self-admiration almost frantic. 
 He never dreamed his judgment was at fault.
 
 A DVBLiy ROMANCE. 207 
 
 •'Yes, yes," he said, " malicious boobies dare 
 
 To call me dwarf ; but now I can refute 
 
 Their calumnies. My full dimensions there 
 
 Let them behold, and be forever mule !" 
 
 A passer-by, -who listened, could not choose but stare, 
 
 And gaze upon him, ^nth a curious snigger, 
 
 To see the manikin, with haughty air, 
 
 Point out what he believed his lofty figure. 
 
 At length he cried : " Alas, conceited elf ! 
 
 Are you, indeed, so laughably demented 
 
 As to believe you see your real self 
 
 By that colossal shadow represented ? 
 
 I fain would tell you, creature most inflated, 
 
 A secret that will make you less elated : 
 
 A strange, illusive power surrounds your sphere, 
 
 That casts your shadow as it stretches here ; 
 
 Through the false glare of vanity and pride, 
 
 'Tis thus you see your pigmy form so magnified." 
 
 A DUBLIN ROMANCE. 
 
 X. 
 
 ii fVS., yes, madam, I was in love tremendously, as you may 
 
 \j know, 
 A most devoted slave, in sooth, before your beauty bending low. 
 My fancy, poised on wandering wing, went seeking for a resting 
 
 place. 
 When, at the railroad terminus, I first beheld yom- angel face.
 
 208 , A DUBLIN ROMANCE. 
 
 VL. 
 
 " '"Why, here she is !' I said, ' at last, the very nymph bo long 
 
 I've sought !' 
 And, like u gudgeon in a net, that moment I was fairly cavight. 
 By those sweet eyes of aziire dyes, that snowy brow and cheek 
 
 of rose, 
 Those nut-brown bands of glossy hair, those ruby lips and 
 
 Grecian nose. 
 
 ni. 
 
 "You sat amongst the waiting crowd, a vision for a poet's \iew, 
 Dressed in a rich brocaded silk, a black mantille and bonnet 
 
 bhie ; 
 And ample was j'our graceful form, o'ersprcading all the bench 
 
 of gi'cen. 
 With flounces five upon your skirt, and large amount of crinoline ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 "I've dreamed, as poets always dream, of some celestial vision 
 
 bright ; 
 But visions, after all, arc cold as moonbeams on a frosty night. 
 How much more sweet your glowing charms, which deigned 
 
 substantially to shine, 
 Than those fair snow-nymphs of the brain that once danced 
 
 through this heart of mine ! 
 
 V. 
 
 " As I have said, I was your slave the very moment first we met, 
 But, Heaven and earth ! how was I, now, an introduction e'er to 
 
 get? 
 Your name, address, I knew them not ; I was a stranger in tho 
 
 town— 
 When Fate, in shape of 'mutual friend,' soon brought me to 
 
 your side, Miss Brown.
 
 A DUBLIN ROMANCE. 209 
 
 "VT. 
 
 •' No man had e'er been more in love — as constant as your shade 
 
 was I ; 
 "Where'er you went, I followecl, sure, and, hkc a bellows, loud 
 
 did si"h. 
 
 O 
 
 I !5aw you at bazaar and ball, at theatre and shoAV of flowers, 
 In concert-rooms, at picnics, too — ah ! these, indeed, were 
 bhssful hours. 
 
 vn. 
 
 "I whisked you through the mazy waltz — to tell my feeling 
 
 then were vain — 
 You looked so lovely in that white, soft-flowing dress of tarlatane. 
 With berthc around your beauteous bust, a wxeath of roses on 
 
 your hair, 
 No other beUe in all the room with you a moment might compare. 
 
 VTir, 
 
 "I wandered throiagh the Four Court halls, my wig awry upon 
 
 my head ; 
 With ' oh, my lady !' on my lips, when ' yes, my Lord ' I should 
 
 have said. 
 Ah ! little did I care for briefs —no cause but one cared I to plead. 
 When I at length revealed to you how this poor heart did ache 
 
 and bleetl. 
 
 rr. 
 
 "I will not now revert to all j'oxi said to me upon that day — 
 Enough, one little word you breathed sent me a happy man away. 
 Alas ! alas ! what am I now ? I curse the day I e'er was born. 
 How could you, heartlctjs that you are, thus leave me all my life 
 forlorn ?
 
 aiO A DUBLIN ROMANCE. 
 
 " I -was a poor young man, 'tis tnie, but, then, in time I fihould 
 
 get on 
 At my i^rofession ; Iotg v?ould aid, ard wealth and fame at length 
 
 be won. 
 You had some hundreds, too, 'twas said, left by a late lamented 
 
 aunt ; 
 Our difficulties would be few, for state or style I did not pant ! 
 
 XI. 
 
 "But you — a house upon the square, a carriage and a brougham 
 
 came, 
 Presented by a little wretch, whom I would scarcely deign to 
 
 name, 
 And then you 'cut me' — aye, as cool as if we ne'er before had 
 
 met : 
 Your bridal cards I've just received, ' Belinda Bro^-n ' — now 
 
 Mrs. Brett!"
 
 .yrm^Q.. 
 
 TRINSLITIONS. 
 
 -^jt^o-
 
 'f^
 
 Translations. 
 
 THE "LADY FLY." 
 
 [FKOM^THE FBENCH OF VICTOE HUGO.] 
 I. 
 
 ii mHEPiE'S something teazing me," she said- 
 
 J I look'd auctar, and lo ! 
 Espied a little insect, red, 
 Upon her neck of snow. 
 
 11. 
 
 I should — ^but fool or sage, I wis, 
 
 At sixteen one is shy — 
 Ha-ve seen \ipon hor lips the kiss, 
 
 Ere on her neck the fly I 
 
 in. 
 
 It looked just like a tiny shell, 
 
 Bose-hued, black-speckled o'er — 
 The chirping birds, to see ua well 
 
 Peeped through the leafy door. 
 
 IV. 
 
 I bent me down above the fair, 
 
 Her lips were fresh as dew. 
 The "lady fly," I seized it there. 
 
 But the kiss — away it flew !
 
 214 SONG OF THE COSSACK. 
 
 SONG OF THE COSSACK. 
 
 [BEB A N OBB. ] 
 
 COME, friend of mine, the Cossack's noble steed, 
 Bound at the northern trumpet's signal blast ; 
 Swift to the pkinder, fierce the attiick to lead. 
 Lend wings to Death as thou and I go past ! 
 Thy trappings with no golden riches glow, 
 But victory soon thy giierdon shall bestow ; 
 Neigh, proudly neigh, O faithful st^jtd of mine ! 
 Crush kings and peoples 'neath that hoof of thine ! 
 
 n. 
 
 Departing peace hath flung to me thy rein, 
 Old Europe's ramjiarts crumble in the dust : 
 
 Come, let mine hands outstretched the treasure gain ; 
 Where Art hath raised her shrine, there let us rest. 
 
 Beturn to quaff the Seine's tempestuous wave, 
 
 "Where thou didst twice thy limbs ensanguined lavo. 
 
 Neigh, proudly neigh, O faithful steed of mine ! 
 
 Crush kings and peoples 'neath that hoof of thine ! 
 
 m. 
 
 Prince, priest and noble, as in fortress pent, 
 
 By suffering subjects, loudly to us say : 
 " Come, be our masters, we shall be content 
 To play the serf, bo tyrants, too, we stay !" 
 I seize my lance, and all before it toss. 
 To humble soon the sceptre and the cross. 
 Neigh, proudly ncagh, O faithful steed of mine I 
 Crush kings and peoples 'neath that hoof of thine I
 
 MY mission: 213 
 
 IV. 
 
 I see the phantom of a giant vast, 
 
 His eager eyes fixed ou our bivouac, 
 As with his spear he points unto the west : 
 
 " My reign," he shouteth, "is again come back !" 
 It is the spirit of the Huu's great Lord, 
 The son of Attila obeys his "word. 
 Neigh, proudly neigh, O faithful steed of mine ! 
 Crush kings and peoples 'neath that hoof of thino ! 
 
 V. 
 
 All, all the pomp -which Europe boasts so loud, 
 The knowledge which is bootless to defend. 
 
 Shall soon be swallowed in the whirling cloud 
 Of dust which shall upon our steps attend. 
 
 Efface, efface in this, thy coming reign, 
 
 Old customs, manners, laws — the throne and fane. 
 
 Neigh, proudly neigh, O faithful steed of mine ! 
 
 Crush kings and peoples 'neath that hoof of thine . 
 
 MY ]\I I S S I O N . 
 
 [BEBAMOES.] 
 
 UPON this earthly planet flung. 
 Ungainly, weak and poor. 
 Down-trod the rushing crowd among, 
 
 Because I'm but obscure. 
 Sometimes a touching plaint 
 
 From my full heart will spring : 
 Then God, in pity, says to me, 
 " Sing ! little creature, sing !"
 
 216 MI" mission: 
 
 II. 
 
 The splendid chariot rolling by 
 
 Will splash mo as I pass ; 
 Of insolence enough know I, 
 
 From rich and great, alas ! 
 Ah ! from their chilling pride, 
 
 For me there is no guard. 
 Then God, in pitj', says to me, 
 
 " Sing, sing ! poor little bard !" 
 
 III. 
 
 Too fearfnl, truly, to contend 
 
 With lif(;'s uncertain game, 
 Beneath the petty yoke I bend 
 
 Of this poor place ^vith shame. 
 Yes ! liberty I imze. 
 
 But so keen's my appetite ! 
 Then God, in pity, says to me : 
 
 "Sing, sing ! poor little sprite !" 
 
 TV. 
 
 Love, in my days of luckless plight, 
 
 To cheer me oft would try ; 
 But now, Avith youth in rapid flight, 
 
 I sec him hastening by. 
 In vain my pulses bound, 
 
 Near beauty as I cling — 
 The good God kindly says to me, 
 
 "Sing, little minstrel, sing !"
 
 MY RErUBLIO. 217 
 
 To sing, then, or I'm much astray, 
 
 My lol is here helow. 
 All whom I thus aiuuse, will they 
 
 Not love me ? Yes, I know ! 
 When social joys surround, 
 
 And wino gives pleasure wing, 
 The good God kindly says to me, 
 
 "Sing, little minstrel, sincr!" 
 
 -"o 
 
 smgi 
 
 ]MY REPUBLIC. 
 
 [DKBAKaBB.] 
 
 REPUBLICS quite my fancy take, 
 Since I so many kiugs have kno-\\Ti. 
 One for myself I'll surely make, 
 
 And frame good laws for it alone ; 
 No traffic there save in the bowl. 
 No justice but in gay decree ; 
 lly table its dominion sole, 
 Its simple motto — Liberty ! 
 
 n. 
 
 Friends, let us all our glasses fill — 
 
 The Senate takes its seat to-day ; 
 First, by a stringent act, we will 
 
 That Ennui be proscribed for aye — 
 Proscribed ! ah, what ! our realm withiu 
 
 This word unknown should ever be — 
 Ennui no place with us can win, 
 
 For pleasure follows libei-ty ! 
 lO
 
 218 MT REPUBLIC. 
 
 irr. 
 
 All luxury's abuses here, 
 
 By which Joy suffers, sho decries ; 
 No barriers has thought to fear, 
 
 By grace of Bacchus — nor disguise. 
 Let every one his creed profess 
 
 According as his taste may bo ; 
 In sooth, he e'en may go to Mass — 
 
 Such is the will of liberty ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 Nobility's a great abuse ; 
 
 Then of our sires wo shall not boast. 
 A title e'en wo must refuse 
 
 To him who laughs and drinks the most. 
 And if aspiring to the crown, 
 
 A traitor here amongst us bo, 
 This CaBsar in the bowl we'll drown, 
 
 And thus preserve omi liberty ! 
 
 Come, then, to our Republic drink — 
 
 May it fulfil its destiny ! 
 But peaceful people you, I think, 
 
 An enemy already see ; 
 It is Lisftte, by whom again 
 
 In chains voluptuous bound are we. 
 Ah, she is fair — and sho will reign — 
 
 'Tis over now for liberty !
 
 so MAT IT BEL 219 
 
 SO MAY IT BE. 
 
 [BERANOER.] 
 
 DEAR fi-ioncls, prophetic gifts aro mine, 
 The promised future I divine, 
 By this, my subtle art's design — 
 So may it be ! 
 
 II. 
 
 The bard no parasite you'll see, 
 The great from flattery shall flee, 
 The courtier serve from baseness fi'ee, 
 So may it be ! 
 
 in. 
 
 No iisnrers, no gamblers seen, 
 No little banker lords, I ween, 
 Officials none of saucy mien. 
 
 So may it be ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 Friendship, of life the chiefest gain, 
 A tie shall bo not false or vain. 
 Of which misfortune breaks the chain, 
 So may it bo ! 
 
 V. 
 
 The simple maid at fifteen known. 
 In three years' time with lovers thrown, 
 Shall prattle gaily — that alone, 
 So may it be !
 
 220 SO MAY IT BE. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Then women vain gewgaws will shun, 
 And husbands, too, uo danger run, 
 E'en for a week should they be gone — 
 So may it be ! 
 
 VII. 
 
 Our writers will in each essay 
 More genius— less of wit — display, 
 All puerile jargon cast away — 
 
 So may it be ! 
 
 VIII. 
 
 The author shall have nobler aim. 
 The actor less of foppish fame, 
 The critic bear a civil name — 
 
 So may it bo ! 
 
 IX. 
 
 We may at failings of the great 
 And of their i)audcrs laugh and jn-atn, 
 Without a message from the State — 
 So may it be ! 
 
 Now, taste in France her reign resumes. 
 Justice the land throughout illumes. 
 And exiled Truth, returned, bluoms — 
 So may it bo ! 
 
 XI. 
 
 Then God, who wisely rules, let's bless ; 
 My friends, these things shall be, I guess, 
 About the year 3,000— yes ! 
 
 So may it be !
 
 THE BLIND GIRL. 221 
 
 THE BLIND GIRL. 
 
 [FEOM THE ITALIAN.] 
 I. 
 
 OH, if an .angel, winging 
 His way to thine awful throne, 
 Dear Lord, nnto thcc is Lriuging 
 The blind girl's i^laintive moan, 
 Pity, O Lord ! then, pity mc; 
 Thou knowest the depth of my misery. 
 
 II. 
 
 If thou'st to mo forbidden 
 
 Tho warmth and the light of love, 
 Oh, why should those throbbings hidden 
 My heart's depths wildly move ? 
 Pity, O Lord ! then, pity me ; 
 Thou knowest the depth of my misery . 
 
 III. 
 "When the stars, in countless number. 
 
 Are glowing within the skies, 
 There's for me but a curtain sombre 
 In which all their splendor dies. 
 Pity, O Lord ! then, pity me ;« 
 Thou knowest the depth of my misery. 
 
 IV. 
 
 If only in tears and mourning 
 My life must moidder away, 
 Then give mc, O Lord, the warning 
 Which calls me to Thee, I jjray. 
 Pity, O Lord ! then, pity me ; 
 Thou knowest tho depth of my misery !
 
 322 nOME SONG. 
 
 HOME SONG. 
 
 [CHATEADBBIAND.] 
 
 HOW oft do those drcamings como 
 Of thee, my native home ! — 
 Laud of my love evermore. 
 Ah, how the moments flew, 
 France, 'neath thy skies of blue ! 
 Sister, what brightness they wore ! 
 
 II. 
 
 Dost thou remember, dear, 
 Seated the hearth auear, 
 
 IIow our fond mother would presa 
 Each to her bosom there, 
 And o'er our golden hair 
 
 Uend with a loving caress ? 
 
 III. 
 
 Sister, rememberest thou, 
 When round the old chateau 
 
 Sjjarkled the river in jjlay ? 
 And the dark Moorish tower, 
 Which, at the dawning hour, 
 
 Hang out its chimes to the day ? 
 
 IV. 
 
 Dost thou remember, too, 
 Where the light swallow flew, 
 
 Skimming the lake's tranqiiil breast, 
 While the wind murmured low, 
 Hulfliug the Yccdfi below. 
 
 As the red sun sank to rest ? 
 
 V. 
 
 O my Helena, who 
 
 E'er will restore mo you ? — 
 
 You, the green hills, the oak tree ? 
 Still do those mem'ries vain 
 Thrill me with joy and ^lain, 
 
 Clinging, my country, to thco !
 
 MK . 
 
 SONGS. 
 
 mF
 
 Songs 
 
 CHANT. 
 
 Air—" Erin, The Teajb and the San^." 
 [WaiTXEN FOB The O'Connell Centenaby.] 
 
 PKOUDLY he comes through the silence and gloom, 
 Euling us yet from the depths of the tomb! 
 Potent that magic name, 
 In life or death the same, 
 Men's souls with heavenly flame ! 
 Still to illume ! 
 
 EKFRAIN. 
 
 KoULng from shore to shore, 
 From Erin's inmost core, 
 Echoed by thousands more. 
 Hear ye that name ! 
 
 n. 
 
 Monarch annointed, -where had he his throne ? 
 Never the diadem on his brow shone — 
 
 Throned in our hearts vras he, 
 
 Crowned with our homage free, 
 
 Loved with the loyalty. 
 Ever his o^-n ! 
 
 EEFKAUT. 
 
 Boiling from shore to shore, etc. 
 
 10"
 
 226 CHANT. 
 
 HI. 
 
 Slaves lying low in the pallor of death, 
 Did ye not waken to life in his breath ? 
 Led by his prophet might 
 Ilo«e ye to manhood's height. 
 Flashing the sword of right, 
 Forth from its sheath ! 
 
 EEFRAIN. 
 
 Eolling from shore to shore, etc. 
 
 TV. 
 
 Moulded was he from the soil's glowing breast, 
 With red deer and eagle, and mountain's proud crest ! 
 
 And ev'ry word and thought. 
 
 Aye with enchantment fraught, 
 
 Were from that mother caught— 
 Eire the blest ! 
 
 KKFRAIN. 
 
 Eolling from shore to shore, etc. 
 
 From far and wide, O ye sons of the Gael, 
 Pajans are mingUng with sorrow's low wail- 
 Victor and martyr tnie. 
 Fondly wo ehng to you, 
 Feci all your presence, too. 
 Swelling the gale ! 
 
 EEFBAIN. 
 
 Eolling from shore to shore, etc.
 
 MARCHING SONO. 227 
 
 VI. 
 
 Yes ! thou are near us as waters that glide 
 Par from the sunlight in darkness to hide. 
 
 Though from our vision gone, 
 
 Deeply they murmur on, 
 
 Ev'n as a spirit tone, 
 
 Seeming to guide ! 
 
 EEFEAXN. 
 
 Rolling from shore to shore, etc. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Thou, looming grander from out the dead years ! 
 Clothed in the purple of rulers and seers — 
 
 Sliil shall thy fame remain, 
 
 Bearing nor shade nor stuin. 
 
 Sweet be thy requiem strain, 
 Sung through our tears ! 
 
 REFRAIN. 
 
 KoUing from shore to shore, etc. 
 
 MARCHING SONG. 
 
 Air—" The Young Mat Mook." 
 
 I. 
 
 WITH pikes so brightly glancing, O ! 
 With flags so lightly dancing, O ! 
 
 As "Felons" still, 
 
 With right good will. 
 To the struggle we're gaily advancing, O ! 
 Yes, a joyful hour it is, my boys. 
 So full of bright hope and power, my boys — 
 
 In the only true way, 
 
 With hearty hurrah. 
 To press with the strength of a tower, my boys !
 
 228 MARC my G SONG. 
 
 II. 
 
 No brawlers dare to fool us uow, 
 With nod and beck to mle us now ; 
 
 Seme thousands ten 
 
 Of earnest men, 
 We -want little speeching to school us now. 
 And away with "foreign aid," my boys, 
 We know 'tis only a shade, my boys, 
 
 The flourishing tree 
 
 Of fair Liberty 
 Must spring from the soil, or 'twill fade, my boys » 
 
 III. 
 
 Then, come with manly bearing, O ! 
 For red-coats Uttle caring, O ! 
 
 Their ranks of pride 
 
 Will not long abide, 
 If we know how to face them with daring, O ! 
 Come meet them, friends and neighbors all ; 
 On through their cannons and sabres all, 
 
 Girded by Eight 
 
 Are we for the fight. 
 And we'll soon have an end of oui- labors all ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 The harvest moon, so glorious, men. 
 Will see our ranks victorious, men ; 
 
 The coats of frieze 
 
 Will gain the prize. 
 And then for our mirth uproarious, men I 
 With pikes so brightly glancing, O ! 
 With flags BO lightly dancing, O ! 
 
 Surely under the sun 
 
 There ne'er was such fun. 
 As thus to the struggle advancing, O !
 
 SONO OF TUB IRISH TENANT. 229 
 
 SONG OF THE IRISH TENANT. 
 
 >ltr— "Shan Van Vocht." 
 
 X. 
 
 MY sons are blood and bone, 
 Says the Slian Van Vocld ; 
 Yet they seemed as cold as stone, 
 
 Says the Shan Van Vocht. 
 From Man, and not from God, 
 They held their native sod, 
 And kissed the tyrants' rod, 
 
 Says the Shan Van VocM. 
 
 II. 
 
 But we're all in earnest now, 
 
 Says the *S/ia?i Van Vocht; 
 And we'll keep the written vow, 
 
 Says the Shan Van Vocht. 
 Can they check the ocean's way. 
 The storm and lightning's play, 
 Or the voice that speaks to-day. 
 
 Says the Shan Van Vocht? 
 
 in. 
 
 To bring them silks and gold. 
 
 Says the Shan Van Vocht, 
 
 Your lives were crushed and sold. 
 Says the <S/ia)i Van Vocht. 
 
 They said that you were bora 
 
 To reap the bri'r and thorn, 
 
 "While they robbed the golden corn. 
 Says the Shan Van Vocht.
 
 230 SONG OF TTIE IRISU TENANT. 
 
 IT. 
 
 But we know — may God be praised !- 
 Says the Shan Van Vocht, 
 
 "When once a truth is raised, 
 
 Says the ISluin Van Vocht, 
 
 By voice, or sword, or pen, 
 
 By angels, or by men, 
 
 'Tis never laid again. 
 
 Says tbo iSluin Van Vocht. 
 
 The struggle may be long. 
 
 Says the Slian Van Vocht ; 
 But Eight will make you strong. 
 
 Says the Shan Van Vocht. 
 In coolness lies the spell. 
 Amid your passions' swell. 
 To lead you onward still. 
 
 Says the Shan Van Vocht. 
 
 YX. 
 
 Let each burning throb you feel, 
 Says the Shan Van Vocht, 
 
 Be tempered as your steel. 
 
 Says the Sh/m Van Vocht. 
 
 Poured out without an aim, 
 
 Ah ! what is passion's flume ? 
 
 The end is only shame, 
 
 Says the <S/ian Van Vocht.
 
 mS NAME. 231 
 
 Til. 
 
 To aid our glorious plan, 
 
 Says the Shan Van Vocht, 
 We call each honest man, 
 
 Says the Shan Van Vocht. 
 From Ulad, * stern and true, 
 To Muiuain'st mountains blue, 
 From Laigcan and Conact,^ too, 
 
 Says the S}ian Van Vocht. 
 
 HIS NAME. 
 
 Air—"1 AM ABiiBFP, AND Dos't "Waken Mb." 
 
 I. 
 
 ARE the clustering stars that now gem the blue wave 
 Not glorious to see in their far home above ? 
 As bright is the name that's now linked ^\•ith the grave. 
 And once was the stay of oiu* hope antl our love. 
 Undying is he who, 'mid doubt and decay. 
 To Hope's fairy land pointed out the true way ; 
 
 H. 
 
 Are the old statelymountains not lofty and grand. 
 
 Where Time fails to leave e'en a mark of his track ? 
 
 As proudly enduring thy fame in the land, 
 
 When through the long ^^s(:a of years we look back, 
 
 The highest, the holiest things that we see 
 
 ShaU speak, Thomas Davis, to our hearts, of thee ! 
 
 * Ulster . t Leinster . + Counaught .
 
 232 THE TRUE PATH. 
 
 in. 
 
 Thou wcrt like the tree with the fruit and the flower, 
 Thine the ripeness of age and the ardor of youth ; 
 Oh, rarely on earth may be seen the fair dower. 
 Deep passion led onward by wisdom and truth, 
 And all the rich store as an offering laid 
 On the altar of freedom, its struggle to aid. 
 
 IV. 
 
 "Were all cold around thee, thou still wouldst be true ; 
 Not the world could o'ershadow that heart pure and deep ; 
 As free and unfettered the sjiring gushes blue. 
 While, ice-bound, the waters surrounding it sleep. 
 Some natures there are of pure gold, like to thine. 
 That for ever unstained and unsullied will shine ! 
 
 THE TRUE PATH 
 
 .4ir— " AvENQiNO AND Bkight." 
 
 IF in steel there is might, if in man there is honor, 
 Is vengeance a duty— endurance a shame ? 
 Then forth to the light you •will fling the green banner, 
 And strike the good blow which brings triumph and fume. 
 
 II. 
 
 Red signs in the heavens flit wildly above j'ou — 
 Now, sous of the Gael, speed bold on your way ! 
 This struggle, before the wide world, must prove ye. 
 Or Lcroea or helots for ever to stay.
 
 SONG OF THE DAT. 233 
 
 in. 
 Dark fetters have hung on the limbs of your fathers, 
 But si ill in their grasp the sure weapon they bore ; 
 And proud rose their wrath as the tempest-cloud gathers, 
 And the hand of the tjTant oppressed them no more. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Your swords are as keen as the bravest e'er flourished, 
 Your chains arc as heavy — what more do yoi\ need ? 
 No fear of a cause by such memories nourished, 
 If true bo the hearts that will on to the deed. 
 
 SONG OF THE DAY 
 
 I. 
 
 I GIVE my heart to you, Eir^, 
 I give my heart to j'ou, 
 And well I know, whate'cr betide, 
 
 That I shall never rue. 
 'Twere sweet to die for you, Eire, 
 
 'Twerc sweet to die for you : 
 And 'tis what iu my heart I mean, 
 If livlnij will not do 
 
 n. 
 
 I know the time is coming 
 
 To show my truth and love, 
 And I am truly striving, dear, 
 
 My loyalty to prove. 
 I think of nothing else, dear, 
 
 The night and morning through. 
 But how my life and strength may bo 
 
 Devoted unto you !
 
 234 MT VOICE OF SOJSTG. 
 
 m. 
 
 There's nothing e'er could sway me 
 
 Yoiu" banner to clisowai ; 
 No joy could win mc from you now, 
 
 And fear ! — I would have none. 
 'Twould raise mo to the lieavcns above 
 
 To sec your freedom's day ; 
 But welcome still be God's good wiU, 
 
 Though I should bo away 1 
 
 IMY VOICE OF SONG. 
 
 I. 
 
 MY voice of song is given to thee, > 
 "Land of the murmuring streams !" * 
 Thou art the worshipped of my heart, 
 
 The light that gilds my dreams. 
 Thy name — the flower upon my path, 
 
 The star A\ithin my sky; 
 
 And as for thee I gladly live, 
 
 So I for thee would die ! 
 
 II. 
 
 If thou -wert high in power and fame, 
 
 I might not love you so ; 
 But 'tis not on the happiest 
 
 I would my love bestow. 
 One bird loves best to sing at night. 
 
 While others wait the day, 
 And in this cheerless night of thine, 
 
 I wake for thee my lay ! 
 
 * Iri-lriii'l -was called by her ancient bards " Ireland of the munnurlng 
 BtreaiuH."
 
 I AM A POOR STRANGER. 235 
 
 ni. 
 And if I prize the lyro and -wreath, 
 
 'Tis for thy sake alone ; 
 For every chord and every leaf 
 
 Belong to thee, my own. 
 My voice of song is given to thee, 
 
 "Land of the murmuring streams !" 
 Thou art the worshipp'd of my heart, 
 
 The light that-gilds my dreams ! 
 
 I AM A POOR STRANGER. 
 
 Air—" I AM A PooB Stbanqeb." 
 
 I. 
 
 TnOUGH bright be the sunlight and clear the blue sky, 
 There's a pang at my heart and a tear in mine eye ; 
 'Twixt mo and Old Ireland the wild billows roam, 
 I am a poor stranger that's far from my homo I 
 
 II. 
 The shadows are flying above the wild hills. 
 And sparkle and murmur the clear summer rills. 
 Whore once, like the red deer, so swiftly I clomb, 
 But I'm now a poor stranger that's far from my home ! 
 
 HI. 
 Ah ! the roots of my heart from the soil have been torn, 
 'Tis long since a green bud of Hope they have borne ; 
 AU weary I wander 'neath Heaven's wide dome, 
 For I am a poor stranger that's far from my home ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 As soft as the blossoms fall down from the tree. 
 Come stealing those mem'ries of Erin o'er mo ; 
 And sweet as the west wind, wherever I roam, 
 To the j)oor, lonely stranger that's fax- from his home !
 
 236 MT 01V N. 
 
 MY OWN. 
 
 [FROM THE-nUSH.] 
 
 BY the wild beating of my heart, 
 Having no placo for all its joy ; 
 By those soft tears that wet my cheek, 
 
 Like dews from Summer sky. 
 I?y this strange rush through every vein, 
 
 This choked and trembling tone, 
 Surcharged with bliss it cannot tell, 
 I feel thou art my own. 
 
 II. 
 
 And yet it cannot still be true, 
 
 I've dreamed a thousand golden dreams, 
 But this is brighter, mlder far 
 
 Than even the wild jst scenes. 
 I've dreamed of wonders, spirit climes, 
 
 Of glory and of blisses won. 
 But ne'er before did vision come 
 
 To say thou wort my own. 
 
 in. 
 
 My own, my own ! thus gazing on, 
 
 My life-breath seems to eblj away ; 
 And o'er and o'er, and still again 
 
 The same dear words I say : 
 I know, I know it must be true. 
 
 And here, vdih. Heaven and thee alone, 
 I hold thf.o next my heart of hearts, 
 
 For thou art all my own !
 
 rnOU AND I. 237 
 
 THOU AND I. 
 
 ^ir — "The Livb-lono Nioht." 
 
 THOU art the light, and I the shade ; 
 If thou fiidest, I, too, fade ; 
 If thy voice be hetird no more, 
 Mine, the echo, then is o'er — 
 Mine is mute for evermore. 
 
 II. 
 
 Thou art the star that beams on high, 
 In the wave beneath am I ; 
 If the star away should flee, 
 Who would then the shadow sec ? 
 Where would I, thy shadow, be ? 
 
 nr. 
 
 Thou art the breath in which I breathe. 
 In thy heart mine own I sheath ; 
 If thou livest, I live on, 
 If thou goest, I am gone — 
 I, too, vanish, cold and wan !
 
 238 O MT BIRD. 
 
 O MY BIRD!' 
 
 ^ir— " The CoULiN." 
 
 OMY bird of the wMto breast and soft swelling form, 
 Thou canst not be near mc amid the wild storm ; 
 Thy soft notes of music would falter and die 
 'Neath the darkness and cold of the sad winter sky. 
 
 n. 
 
 The bright, flutt'ring plumes thou art used to unfold, 
 'Mid fair, blooming flowers and warm skies of gold, 
 Would droop by the drenching rain, shattered and torn, 
 Though my fond, circling arms should not leave thee forlorn. 
 
 in. 
 
 Tlie place of our rest, was it not calm and fair ? 
 And now, by the spoiler's dark hand, 'tis laid bare ; 
 No more shall we rove through the hazel-shades green. 
 Where the strawberry buds in their beauty are seen. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Far from mo thou must wander, until the mild Spring 
 Shall sweet-smelling blossoms and gentle airs bring. 
 Thou canst not be near me, oh, loved as thou art, 
 Though thy nest shall bo warm in the depths of my heart !
 
 UBHAL MA SriL. 239 
 
 UBHAL MA SUIL.* 
 
 I. 
 
 UBHAL MA SUIL, I dreamed of you ! 
 I saw you there wath thrilling wonder — • 
 A lovely cloud that bright above 
 
 Shono faintly in the river under. 
 A little mist, a shadowj' veil, 
 
 Just kept mj^ joy from wildest madness ; 
 I knew, I knew it was not true — 
 Asthore machree, there still was sadness ! 
 
 n. 
 
 TThhal ma suil, yet come to me, 
 
 Oh ! once again when I am sleeping. 
 With gentle smiles to steal away 
 
 The traces of my daily weeping. 
 I know no waking e'er can bring 
 
 That hour for which my heart is beating ; 
 Then, come to me, astliorc machree, 
 
 With that lone, silent, midnight greeting ! 
 
 THE WEST WIND. 
 
 I. 
 
 On, the western wind, the soft west wind ! 
 'Tis tilled with golden showers 
 Of song, and mirth, and gentle tears, 
 
 And scents of Summer flowers. 
 *Tis thrilling as a lover's tone. 
 
 Thus whispering through the leaves — 
 Oh, the western wind, the soft west ^viud, 
 How low it laughs and grieves ! 
 
 * " Apple of my eye." Pronounced, Ool-ma-hool,
 
 240 THE WEST WIND. 
 
 II. 
 
 It tells such strange, wild mystic tales 
 
 Of all its wanderings far, 
 In music to the listening moon, 
 
 And every little star ; 
 And now it breathes its loving breath 
 
 In Idsses on them all. 
 Oh, the western wind, the soft west wind, 
 
 How sweet its murmurs fall ! 
 
 III. 
 
 I love its gentle waywardness — 
 
 'Tis like a merry child, 
 So hap])y and so elfin-liko, 
 
 So sportive and so wild. 
 It has the magic melody 
 
 We hear on fairy hills — 
 Oh, the western wind, the soft west wind, 
 
 Each Irish heart it thrills ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 Oh, the western wind, the soft west wind, 
 
 The breath of our dear land, 
 How softly, by its angel wing, 
 
 The wanderer's brow is fann'd. 
 It brings him back the memories 
 
 Of those he left behind. 
 And he murmurs low a blessing on 
 
 The darlin;' western wind.
 
 A 
 
 ALL ALONE. 341 
 
 ALL A L ONE. 
 
 LL alone, we dwelt alone, in a far-off, mystical land of our 
 
 , own ; 
 Lit by the purple and gold of dreams, 
 Glad with the mui-mui-s of musical streams, 
 Evermore chanting in silvery tone — 
 
 All alone — alone ! 
 
 ri. 
 
 All alone, we dwelt alone, tropical flowers around us blown. 
 Breathing a heavy and strange perfume, 
 Fainting with weight of their gorgeous bloom, 
 As we, with the love in our eyes that shone. 
 All alone — alone ! 
 
 III. 
 
 All alone, we dwelt alone, tranced, and bound by a magic zone. 
 Pouring out tears from each heart's recess. 
 Wrung from the trembling and wild excess 
 Of passion, that panted vdfh rapturous moan. 
 All alone ! — alone. 
 
 IV 
 
 All alone, we dwell alone, life is chill as a cold grey stone. 
 Shadows are dimming the mournful sky. 
 Flowers of hope to the wild winds fly. 
 And music breathes in a minor tone. 
 
 All alone — alone ! 
 I T
 
 H2 THE SPIRITS FAREWELL. 
 
 V. 
 
 All alone, we dwell alone, glittering wrecks on the ground are 
 strown — 
 Open wide throngh the feai-fnl gloom, 
 Seen anent are the gates of doom ; 
 Sun, or moon, or star is none- 
 All alone — alone ! 
 
 VI. 
 
 All alone — for ever lone — angels weep round the golden throne. 
 Up from the fiery depths below 
 A wild laugh rings for the mortal wot — 
 Lo8t Earth — lost Heaven — like jjhantoms flown — 
 All alone — alone ! 
 
 I'HF. SPIRIT'S FAREWELL. 
 
 Air—" Fi,owERB OK Hope." 
 
 "The spirit, fixing hfir eycn upon him with a mournful look, faded away 
 by degrees." —German Legend. 
 
 I. 
 
 PARTED ! purtid ! Earth or sky 
 Hath no hope for thee or me ; 
 Love and Grief still vainly try. 
 Strong although they be. 
 
 II. 
 
 Faint, low voices near me swell. 
 Shadowy foims around me play ; 
 
 Sadly rings the boding knell, 
 Thou must far away !
 
 THK SPIRITS FARBWBU^ 2<S 
 
 III. 
 
 Hope not, Htrive not — all is o'er ; 
 
 Hours that flowed with breezy song, 
 Sweet, wild throbs my life that bore 
 
 Silv'ry waved along. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Hulls of gladness, star-inwove, 
 Dream-like glories wait for mo ; 
 
 But the shade of my lost love 
 Shall above them be. 
 
 Sooner, sooner, round my brow 
 Earth's most fragile flow'rs I'd see, 
 
 Than all the gems of magic glow. 
 Now mv crown to be. 
 
 VI. 
 
 In those bowers of fadeless glow, 
 'Mid that music's witching spell, 
 
 I shall hear the echoes low 
 Of that past too well. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Parted ! parted ! earth or sky, 
 Never brings that hour again. 
 
 Parted ! parted ! thou and I — 
 Love and grief are vain !
 
 244 THE MOANING HARP. 
 
 THE MOANING HARP. 
 
 SAD as the night wind's sighing 
 Still came that strain, 
 Moaning and moaning ever 
 
 With sonuds of paiu ; 
 And she, its skilful mistress. 
 
 Now strove in vain — 
 The chords that once gave mnsic 
 Still wailed in pain. 
 
 II. 
 
 Ah ! htish thee, helpless maiden ; 
 
 List, list that tone ! 
 For thee earth's light and gladness 
 
 For aye are gone. 
 For, oh, the harp is moaning 
 
 Beneath thy hand, 
 With the voice of one departed, 
 
 In stranger-land ! 
 
 THE WIND AND THE MOON. 
 
 I. 
 
 THE night-wind sang to the queenly moon— 
 " I love thee ! I love thee !' 
 Moaning words to a mystical tune. 
 Wild was that strain in its passionate swell, 
 Faintly and slowly to sobs it fell, 
 
 " I love thee ! I love thee !"
 
 THE BIRD JN SHE STORM. 246 
 
 11. 
 
 The bright moon heard, but the words that came, 
 
 Adoring ! adoring ! 
 Woke in her breast no answering flame. 
 Proudly she looks from her star-gemmed throne, 
 Bound by the gold of her maiden zone. 
 
 Still soaring, soaring. 
 
 in. 
 
 Deep through the midnight the wild wind sighs, 
 "I love thee! Hove thee!" 
 
 But the calm moon on her bright way flies, 
 
 Far from that pleading and passionate tone, 
 
 Murmuring ever, with many a moan, 
 
 " I love thee ! I love thee !" 
 
 THE BIRD IN THE STORM. 
 
 I. 
 
 THE rain was falUng, the winds were calling. 
 The clouds swept over the sky, 
 When, 'mid the alarm of darkness and storm, 
 A shower of song gushed by : 
 Says the wee Uttle bird, " 'T is I !" 
 
 II. 
 
 '• Ah ! is it not dieary, and are you not weary. 
 Poor wee little bird?" I said ; 
 
 " How lonely and queer you must feel out here, 
 Just under the tempest diead ? — 
 Ah, birdie, you'll soon be cJ^ad!"
 
 246 STAR SONO. 
 
 III. 
 
 " While the storm is ringing, is my time for sioging," 
 Says the wee little bird to me ; 
 
 " Though the clouds be dim, yet I warble my hymn, 
 And I die not, though cold it be, 
 For my name it is Hope," says she. 
 
 IV. 
 
 So the song it is gushing, and seems as if hushing 
 
 The atmosphere, tempest-stirred ; 
 Softly and clear it falls on the ear. 
 
 Through clouds and through darkness heard — 
 
 The song of the sweet wee bird ! 
 
 S 1 A R SONG 
 
 I. 
 
 LAST year, when the stars were burning, 
 I looked in their eyes of love, 
 Up with a passionate yearning 
 To their bright home above ; 
 For, oh, in their golden glories. 
 Wondrous and dazzling there, 
 I read but the thousand stories 
 In my own heart that were. 
 
 n. 
 
 This year the same stars are burning, 
 
 But I look from their light away, 
 Down where to. shailows turning. 
 
 Cold in the wave they play. 
 For, oh, these are shadows only — 
 
 Shadows that mock and flee, 
 Now, in this world so lonely — 
 
 Of all that was bright for me L
 
 FANCIES. 247 
 
 FANCIES. 
 
 I. 
 
 SO loud in the stillness your voice will reaoimd, 
 "§0" bright in the loneness your smile plays around ! 
 But over that life-dream what shadow is there V 
 What echo of sadness my heart cannot bear ? 
 
 II. 
 
 My loved one is distant, so well do I know, 
 That voice and that smile were my own long ago ; 
 And mine they are still, in the day or the night, 
 More hallowed and precious for seeming less bright. 
 
 III. 
 As faint " bells of Heaven " that will break on the ear, 
 As dim streaks of sunshine that soothing appear, 
 Those fancies will haunt me wherever I go, 
 To sweeten a life full of darkness and woe ! 
 
 A WORD FOR YOU. 
 
 i THROB of my heart when I hear your name, 
 /Y A rush to my cheek of the .swift blood's flame, 
 S. silent trance when you near me stay, 
 A chill as of Death when you turn away ! 
 
 "• 
 
 A gentle hope that will sometimes gleam 
 Like the magic light of a happy dream, 
 A dreary fear that \\\\\ often weigh 
 As the shadows close round the parting day.
 
 248 SUN AND SHADE. 
 
 III. 
 
 The stars of night or the bhize of noon, 
 The winter's chill or the glow of June, 
 All joy or sorrow, or hope or fear, 
 Still find one thought that is tme and dear ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 Oh, the bird will fly to the greenwood tree. 
 And the river bounds to the longing sea. 
 And the child will cling to its mother's knee, 
 But I have no home or no hope but thee ! 
 
 SUN AND SHADE, 
 
 I. 
 
 rpKANQUIL and bright as the summer's stream 
 J^ When lit by the noonday's golden beam. 
 Hushed as the flowers at evening's close, 
 Drooping low in their soft repose. 
 
 II. 
 
 Hopeful as saint at the Virgin's shrine, 
 Ijooking up for her smile divine ; 
 Fearless as those to Freedom true — 
 So is my heart when it beats near you I 
 
 m. 
 
 Helpless and cold as the bird in the nest, 
 Unsheltered, unwarmed by its mother's breast ; 
 Trembling as one in a dream of woe. 
 Wearily wandering to and fro.
 
 THE EVemNG STAR. 249 
 
 IV. 
 
 Wretched and stricken us those who die 
 lu a stranger's home 'neath a foreign sky — 
 Knowing nor love, nor life, nor day — 
 Thus am I when you turn away. 
 
 There's many u joy and many a woe 
 For those who walk on this earth below ; 
 But there's never a sorrow or joy for me 
 Save those alone which may spring from thee ! 
 
 THE l.VKNING STAR. 
 
 THE evening star watched by the moon, 
 In a sweet trance of sad devotion ; 
 Still fond and faithful, all alone, 
 . Within the heaven's wide ocean — 
 Alone, untiring in her love, 
 
 She sat, while dews were round her weeping, 
 'Mid all the heavenly sentinels, 
 The onlj' one unsleeping. 
 
 II. 
 
 Thus I will be, dear love, to thee. 
 
 When night and loneliness enfold thee ; 
 Still whispering, low and fervently. 
 
 What in bright days 1 told thee. 
 Still gazing from my heart of hearts 
 
 Ou that loved face divinely beaming, 
 'Mid world and worldlings, all alone. 
 
 Wrapped in ray golden dreaming ! 
 
 1 1-
 
 S50 LOST I mSTI 
 
 LO.'^T ! I, OS r ! 
 
 ALL the summer and the bloom- 
 Lost ! lost! 
 All the verdnre and ]ieifume — 
 
 Lost! lost! 
 Dead leaves fall from off the tree. 
 Hopes are withered so for me, 
 Green and glad no more to be — 
 Lost ! lost ! 
 
 II. 
 
 All the glory of the noon — 
 
 Lost! lost! 
 All the love-light of the moon — 
 
 Lost ! lost ! 
 Something from the night and day. 
 Spirit-like, has fled away ; 
 Life is still and cold and grey — 
 
 Lost ! lost ! 
 
 III. - 
 
 Thoughts that soared with eagle flight- 
 Lost ! lost! 
 
 Dreams that shone with stan-y light- 
 Lost ! lost ! 
 
 Now my heart is haunted ground, 
 
 Shades and echoes hover round ; 
 
 t^ad and deep the whispered sound — 
 
 Lost ! lost I
 
 THK I'AflT Ml 
 
 THE PAST, 
 
 THOU goest, aud with thee 
 Each thought of my years, 
 Tliia heart's deepest treasures, 
 
 Its joys and its tears ! 
 Each flower of life's garhind, 
 Each wave of life's stream. 
 All the glory and light 
 Of my beautiful dream. 
 
 II. 
 
 How many and strong 
 
 Are the links that have bound 
 Our beings together, 
 
 But now I have found ; 
 I feel them thus quiv'ring 
 
 'Neath son-ow and fate, 
 But naught can dissever — 
 
 Alas, 'tis too late ! 
 
 III. 
 
 'Tis sadness to love thee, 
 
 But woe to resign — 
 Though wild 'twere to think 
 
 Thou couldst ever be mine ; 
 But, oh, in our meeting 
 
 Delusion would stay. 
 And the rude shock of parting 
 
 Now rends it away.
 
 aea . dead leaves. 
 
 rv. 
 
 Our love was the purer 
 
 For standiug alone, 
 With no stay on the cold earth, 
 
 No light but its own. 
 Alone it hath perished, 
 
 Untended, uncared, 
 And still it is blooming 
 
 Through all it hath dared ! - 
 
 DEAD LEAVES. 
 
 I. 
 
 DEAD leaves arc sadly falling 
 Down from the tree of life ; 
 With every blast they drop so fast, 
 
 And lie all rank and rife. 
 Upon the ground I see them, 
 Yellow and pale and cold — 
 In eveiy one, some hope is gone. 
 Dead in the wintry mould. 
 
 Some flutter faint and slowly, 
 
 On through the desert air, 
 With a mournful gleam and a lingering di-eam 
 
 Of summer days that were ; 
 And some with j^arting fondness, 
 
 Quiver uprm the bough, 
 ADd seems as though despair and woe 
 
 Their only life were now !
 
 TUB ONE SORROW 253 
 
 THE ONE SORROW 
 
 1 LOVED thee, I lost thee, 
 No more do I know — 
 I feel it, I hear it, 
 
 "Wherever I go. 
 There's no vision befort me, 
 
 No voice iu mine ear, 
 But the blessing I dreamed of, 
 The curse that I bear ! 
 
 II. 
 
 I loved thee, I lost* thee. 
 
 Then, what can remain ? 
 A life that is blasted 
 
 By madness and pain ; 
 The burning, the longing, 
 
 That never can rest, 
 The dread of the future, 
 
 The woe of the past ! 
 
 in. 
 
 I have loved thee iu wrong — 
 
 Ah ! no wrong could there be 
 So dark or so wild 
 
 But I'd brave it for thee. 
 No ! Wrong could not part us, 
 
 Nor sonow, nor shame ; 
 'Twas Fate, and Fate only, 
 
 Between us that came !
 
 164 OW, COMK TO MK. 
 
 IV. 
 
 I'd care not, with thee, 
 
 What niisfortnneR could fall 
 The saddest, the direst. 
 
 Oh, what were they all ? 
 One sorrow alone 
 
 Has this heart to its core : 
 To love thee, to lose thee, 
 
 To see thee no more ! 
 
 OH. COME TO ME, 
 
 OH, come to met (tsthore machree '. 
 I love yoTi more than my heart can tell ; 
 I've not a thought in the night or day 
 
 But to prove to you how well. 
 The greenest green of the summer trees, 
 
 The sweetest strain of the wild bird's song, 
 The loveliest sunbeiuii that lights the sky. 
 Were welcome small for the one whom I 
 Have worshipped and wept so long. 
 
 II. 
 
 There's none I kncjw on earth below 
 
 Could treasure and doat on my love like me , 
 The smiles and tears of my inmost soul 
 
 Flow on in a stream to thee. 
 There's hardly space in my heart's deep cell 
 
 To hold the wealth that on thee I'd pour ; 
 And I sit entranced all the long, lone hours. 
 While a heaving joy swells through tearful showers, 
 
 In my fondness for you, asthore I
 
 THE GOLDBN.HAIRRD. "^66 
 
 III. 
 
 Then, corar- to me, ncushla nuichrte! 
 
 You're left by the world to ixie alone, 
 And wild and bright is the proiid delight 
 
 I feel in my darling one. 
 I know not how I can greet you best, 
 
 I know not how I can most adore; 
 But in winged joy still I rove along, 
 With a dancing step and a voice of song, 
 
 Waiting for you, asthore ! 
 
 THE G O L D E N - H A I R E D . 
 
 [FKOM THE mlBH]. 
 I. 
 
 MY golden-haired, my star of pride ! 
 Come to thine own, thy longing bride ; 
 Come to this heait that's beating, breaking. 
 Come to those eyes for ever waking ; 
 Come ! oh, come ! this bursting sigh 
 Tells how I mourn, I faint, I die ! 
 
 II. 
 
 The heavens, the -earth, the night, the day 
 Ai-ound me float and fade away, 
 And one dark shade is ever falling, 
 And one low voice is ever calling. 
 Come ! oh, come ! I faint, I die ! 
 Dark are the hours that pass me by.
 
 256 KySR, EVER 
 
 III. 
 
 Didst thou but know the bitter woe 
 That hath no hope or rest below — 
 The tempest rash, the Btilluess dnary, 
 Within this soul so sad aud weary : 
 Come ! oh, come ! Would / might fly 
 Upon thy breast to weep and die ! 
 
 rv. 
 
 There's not a sunbeam in the skies 
 
 But speaks of sorrow to mine eyes ; 
 
 The summer breezes, softly sighing, 
 
 But breathe of sweet dreams dead or dying. 
 
 Woe ! woe is me ! I faint, I die — 
 
 No rest, no hope but there on high ! 
 
 EVER. K V K R 
 
 BY the sunlight, by the moonlight, Vjy the starlight, all the 
 same ; 
 In the paleness of the \viuter or the summer's crimson flame. 
 In the music of the sweet wind, or its wailing, sad and low. 
 Still I gaze and still I listen, though none else may dream or 
 know. 
 
 II. 
 
 In the song-voice, in the speech-voice, there is but one far-off 
 
 tone, 
 In the silence of my tosom, but one burning throb alone ; 
 But one form of shade or brightness in the mazes of my sleep, 
 One pearl of snowy whiteness in my memoiy's heaving deep !
 
 A PLJCDGE. 267 
 
 III. 
 How I glory, how I sorrow, how I love with deathless love, 
 How I weep before the chilling skies aud moan to heaven above ! 
 I am higher, I am prouder than if stars were round my head ! 
 I am drooping, I am lonely as a mourner o'er the dead ! 
 
 IV.! 
 
 Yet I part not from my sorrow, my glory or my gloom, 
 For the smiling of the May-time, its sunshine or its bloom. 
 From <he throb of burning quickness that is answered far away, 
 Over mountains, over waters, in the night or in the day ! 
 
 A PLEDGE. 
 
 I. 
 "Y love it is a draught divine, 
 ITJL Pure and bright as purple wine ; 
 Foaming, sparkling, bubbling up. 
 From my heart's red, ruby cup, 
 And I pour it, \vild and free. 
 Every day and hour for thee. 
 
 u. 
 
 See, from out mine eye it flows, 
 Here upon my cheek it glows ; 
 From my heart, hke flowers in bloom, 
 Floats its soft and rich perfume ; 
 And I ijour it, wild and free. 
 Every day and hour for thee ! 
 
 III. 
 Yes, I pledge thee, dailing mine ! 
 This sweet draught of love divine, 
 Pare as crystal of the moon, 
 Burning as the tomd noon ; 
 And I pour it, wild and free. 
 From mv heart for thee— for thee !
 
 1168 NOW AND THEN. 
 
 NOW AND THEN 
 
 THE bird of the mimmer was winging 
 Its way through the cloudless sky ; 
 The bird of the Kuramer wtis singing 
 When lattt at your side was I. 
 
 II. 
 
 The flow'r of the bower was blowing, 
 The green of the tree was fair ; 
 
 And the tints of the sky were glowing, 
 "While we stood in gladness there. 
 
 HI. 
 
 The wind of the winter is wailing 
 Again for that happy day ; 
 
 The wind of the winter is wailing, 
 Now, now, yon are far away. 
 
 IV. 
 
 No flow'r in the bower is blowing, 
 No bird is upon the bough ; 
 
 And no tints in the sky are glowing. 
 For we are asundfir now !
 
 THE RBBD AND THE RIVER. «» 
 
 THE R K K D AND THE RIVER 
 
 rPHOU ;ut winding on thy way 
 Y Like the bright and laughing river, 
 While above the night and day, 
 
 A trembling reed, I moan and Hhiver— 
 There, with many a plaintive quiver, 
 All alone ! all alone ! 
 I call in many a plaintive tone, 
 Bending o'er the river. 
 
 With a lightaome voice of song 
 
 Far away the wave is flying. 
 Dancing in its mirth along, 
 
 While the lonely reed is sighing, 
 
 In the dreary darkness lying — 
 All alone ! all alone ! 
 Breathing many a plaintive moan, 
 
 Sad and pale and dying. 
 
 III. 
 
 Ah, this weary watch of pain ! 
 
 In its mournful love unsleeping— 
 Faintly comes that voice again, 
 
 Through the lonely midnight creeping. 
 
 With a sound of hushed weeping — 
 "All alone ! all alone !" 
 Calling low with many a moan. 
 
 That cold vigil keeping !
 
 260 WITHOUT TBKK. 
 
 WITHOUT THEE 
 
 1>HE stream without the summer sun, 
 The tree without its bloom, 
 The mournful skj' at midnight hour. 
 Its glories wrapped in gloom ; 
 
 II. 
 
 The tuneful lyre that silent lies, 
 The tendril fallen away, 
 
 Neglected — trailing on the ground, 
 Without its parent stay ; 
 
 iir. 
 
 The nest within the leafy bough 
 From which the bird has fled, 
 
 The vacant chair that lately held 
 The unfOrgotten dead — 
 
 IV. 
 
 So dark, so cold, .so desolate 
 This heart must ever be, 
 
 So worthless, mournful and mute, 
 When I am far from thee.
 
 A LONGING. 2«I 
 
 A LONGING 
 
 I. 
 
 i )OME back to me, dearest ! I feel, without you, 
 
 \j As the tree -without gi-eenness, the sky without blue, 
 
 A biird with a broken wing chilled by the blast, 
 
 A lyre which the stonn-voice hath rent as it passed. 
 
 n. 
 
 Most lonely and stricken of all on the earth, 
 Alone in my sorrow, 'mid lightness and mirth ; 
 No sunlight, no moonlight, no starlight for me, 
 Since the dark, dreary hour I was parted from thee ! 
 
 III. 
 
 The spell passed from music and left it a wail, 
 The glow of the noonday turned heavy and pale ; 
 The smile of kind faces grew sickly and cold, 
 Their soft words were chill as the blast on the wold. 
 
 IV. 
 
 There's laughter and pleasure— but you are not by, 
 I see but dim shadows — I hear but a sigh. 
 Oh, sad are the hours and the scenes I have known, 
 Through all the long years I have wandered alone ! 
 
 Your voice was an angel's to soothe and to cheer : 
 
 I'd list it for ever, nor^weary to hear ; 
 
 As soft as the whisper of ripe waving corn, 
 
 As glad to my heart as the lark's to the morn.
 
 26i THE PATH ACROSS THE SEA. 
 
 VI. 
 
 My dove ! — this fond heart was your ark aud your home, 
 Oh, come with the green-waving bough to me — come ! 
 Sweet is the calm that will reign in my breast 
 When you are beside me, truest and best ! 
 
 THE PATH ACROSS THE SEA. 
 
 I. 
 
 I y love, my hope, my longing, 
 
 _)J[ Make a path across the sea : 
 
 I can reach thee, I can clasp thee, 
 
 Although parted we may be. 
 Naught can come between us, dearest — 
 N'siUght can hold thee back from me ! 
 
 II. 
 
 The airy Hpace around me 
 
 Is but a canvas fair, 
 On which thy face is painted 
 
 In colors soft and rare — 
 Thiough sunlight, gold and a/nre, 
 
 I see thee everywhere ! 
 
 HI. 
 
 How oft my feet have trodden 
 That pathway o'er the sea, 
 
 Which from out my heart I builded 
 To bear me home tO'thee — 
 
 Which I builded with my longing 
 .\nd my Ldvc; and Faith to thee !
 
 rHK HOOUKRANG. 2C8 
 
 THE BOOMERANG.* 
 
 AN AtTRTRAIilAN I.OVK BONO. 
 
 I. 
 
 BY Fate's strou^j; baud I am hurled away 
 To the dihtauce, blue and dim, 
 From the love and light of thy face to-day 
 
 To the far horizon's lim. 
 I go, I go, since it must be so— 
 
 ( 'Twas thus he softly sang) — 
 I go, my dear, but, oh, never fear, 
 
 I'll come back like the boomerang ! 
 Come back to you, still as sure and true — 
 
 As true as the boomerang ! 
 
 u. 
 
 I go from the soft, bright southern skies, 
 
 I go from the summer day 
 That faints in sweet, voluptuous sighs. 
 
 In perfume and light away ; 
 I go, I go, to the ice and snow, 
 
 Where the cruel north wnuds clang ; 
 But I'll come back, on the homeward track — 
 
 Come back like the boomerang ! 
 Yes, seek your feet, as tme and fleet — 
 
 As true as the boomerang ! 
 
 * The boomerang is an Australian aboriginal weapon ; when flung by » 
 skilful hand, it is sure to return to the very spot from whence it was sent
 
 2«4 . HEART THOUGHTS. 
 
 III. 
 
 I listed the Vjell-bird piping clear 
 
 In the heart of the fragrant shade, 
 Where you and I, in those days so dear, 
 
 Together have fondly strayed. 
 " Oh, my love and dear !" thus, so sweet and clear. 
 
 His notes through the forest rang, 
 " Though you part to-day, yet he'll cleave his way, 
 
 Back, back like the boomerang ! 
 Yes, he'll come to you, as sure and time — 
 
 As true as the boomerang !" 
 
 HEART THOUGHTS 
 
 I. 
 
 THOUGH my heart brims with love as the blossom with dew. 
 Yet I seek in its depths still more fondness for you ; 
 Still longing, still longing to love and adore, 
 More wildly than mortal e'er dreamed of before ! 
 
 II. 
 
 One thought and one throb, in the day or the night, 
 One hot-fevered hope, far too keen for delight, 
 One image to haunt me — one voice to enthrall- 
 So slowly, so sadly the lonely hours fall ! 
 
 TTI. 
 
 I love you, I love you ! but never can tell. 
 By aught I could do, how intensely and well. 
 To live for you, die for you, never can prove 
 The fervor, the madnesH, the strength of that love !
 
 REMEMBRANCK. 265 
 
 R E M E M B R A N C E . 
 
 now my heart aches for you ! 
 How my heart breaks for you, 
 All the day, all the night, all the year through ! 
 Ah ! though I'd sigh for you, 
 Ev'n till I die for you, 
 Never a meeting may come for us two. 
 
 II. 
 
 How my heart craves for you ! 
 
 How my heart raves for you ! 
 
 Haunted by thoughts that for ever will cling. 
 
 Ah ! but no gleam of you, 
 
 Only this dream of yon. 
 Daylight, or mieinight, or twilight will bring ! 
 
 in. 
 
 Ah ! for the vanished years 
 Seen through my blinding tears, 
 Down the black river of Ufe as I go — 
 
 Drifting all wearily, 
 
 Onward so di-earily. 
 While the rain falls and the wild tempests blow. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Burning with love for you. 
 
 Looking above for you, 
 
 Filled with this longing and sorrow and pain ! 
 
 Ah ! though I'd sigh for you, 
 
 Ev'n till I die for you, 
 Never on earth shall we two meet again ! 
 
 12
 
 266 "A ROGUE IX HIS COAT." 
 
 "A ROGUE IN HIS COAT." 
 
 Air—''l AM THK Boy roK Bewitching them " 
 
 I. 
 
 THESE girls ! sure you don't care a straw for them ; 
 How can you help if they teaze you ? 
 You've not the taste of a yra for them— 
 Not one amongst them would please you. 
 
 II. 
 
 Oh, but I'm not all so green, indeed ! 
 
 Though you were ten times as wily ; 
 With my own eyes I have seen, indeed, 
 
 All you were doing so slily. 
 
 III. 
 
 Say, if you like, you're not heeding 'em, 
 
 Sorra one bit I believe you ! 
 Out of their minds you are leading 'em — 
 
 With your deluding, you thief you ! 
 
 IT. 
 
 Looking as mild as a sucking-dove, 
 
 Still you can throw round those glances, 
 
 As if us all you wore mocking of. 
 While you were making advances. 
 
 Why are you singing such songs to them ? 
 
 Why are you talking so neatly ? 
 Spoiling what sense that belongs to them— 
 
 Creatures that listen so sweetly.
 
 A ROGUE ny HIS COAT." 267 
 
 VI. 
 
 AVhy do you take such dead aim at them, 
 
 Slily beneath the dark cover 
 Of your bright eyes, with such flame in them ? 
 
 Shooting the innocent plover ! 
 
 vn. 
 
 Oh, you coi;ld wheedle and coax them all. 
 Were there ten dozen and over ; 
 
 Cleverly, sure, you can hoax them all — 
 Each one believes you her lover ! 
 
 VIII. 
 
 All the hair-locks I have caught with you — 
 
 Auburn, raven and yeUow — 
 Round half the globe you have brought with you. 
 
 Nasty, deluding old fellow ! 
 
 rx. 
 
 Never a chain they have spun for you — 
 Catch the wild horse with a halter ! 
 
 'Deed it has only made fun for you, 
 Just but to think of the altar. 
 
 Oh, you're the boy for bewitching them ! 
 
 Setting them mad, fair and squarely, 
 With all the nonsense you're teaching them, 
 
 Rogue that you are, late and early !
 
 268 AS THE WILD RIRD. 
 
 AS THE W^ILD BIRD 
 
 ^ir— "Tib a Pitt I don't See my Lovb." 
 
 I. 
 
 AS the wild bird sings to the morn, 
 Oh, thus I'll sing to you — 
 As the wild bird siugs to the morn, 
 
 Up from the shining dew. 
 Nearer — nearer, still 
 
 To Heaven and joy above, 
 Nearer— dreamingly, gleamingly, 
 Soaring in song and love ! 
 
 II. 
 
 Oh, to tell all my joy to you, 
 
 As song alone can tell, 
 All my love, so fond and true, 
 
 In one exulting swell ! 
 Glorious were my strain 
 
 The night and morning long — 
 Glorious — bounding on, sounding on, 
 
 Thus were my heart's wild song ! 
 
 YOURSELF. 
 
 [BU8TI0 BONO.] 
 I. 
 
 HPIS yourself ! 'tis yourself ! sure that's all I know of you ; 
 Y Little I mind all the faults they can show of you ; 
 Seen in you. 
 Great or few, 
 They're of Love's own dear hue. 
 For you sire yourself, and no more will I know of you !
 
 YOURSELF. 269 
 
 II. 
 You're my love, you're \ay love : can they make you be less to 
 
 me ? 
 Change there is not in your teiider caress to me. 
 While I know 
 This is so, 
 Welcome be joy or woe : 
 You're my love, and they never can make you Vje less to me I 
 
 III. 
 
 Could they think, could they think that their art could estrange 
 
 me, now ? 
 Deeper my fondness, and harder to change me, now — 
 Everyone 
 Left you lone, 
 But I am still your own. 
 Deeper my fondness, and harder to change me now ! 
 
 12=^
 
 I
 
 .hES 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 •'«5J&g3'
 
 I N 33 E X . 
 
 National and Miscellaneous Poems. 
 
 Page. 
 
 .^orpitas 139 
 
 Alice ,. U2 
 
 Awaking 96 
 
 A Coaine 51 
 
 A Dream of the Arctic Seas 157 
 
 A Dream of a Dream 99 
 
 A Dublin Romance 207 
 
 An Erin 46 
 
 A Farewell 172 
 
 An Adjuration 143 
 
 An Old Story 112 
 
 A Presence 180 
 
 A Scone for Ireland 65 
 
 A Welcome 76 
 
 A Teaming Voice 15C 
 
 Biddy 89 
 
 Bridget Cruise to Ciirolan 73 
 
 Chant to Our Beloved Dead 9 
 
 Chant of the Irish Minstrel 31 
 
 Chartist Address 19 
 
 Christmas Carol 160 
 
 Courage 68 
 
 Dare It 36 
 
 Death 131 
 
 Death iu Life 188 
 
 De Profundis 177 
 
 Down, Britannia 17 
 
 Edom 136 
 
 Epitaph on a Sinner 175 
 
 For Ireland All . . 57 
 
 Glenmaloe 84 
 
 Glimpses 176 
 
 Qod Save the People 27 
 
 Page. 
 
 Houu' Rest 149 
 
 Uymu for the Month of May. .. . 203 
 Hymn of the Sword 20 
 
 Idle Words 104 
 
 " Implora Pace " 132 
 
 In the West 86 
 
 Irish AutumnEve 95 
 
 King Labhradh's Ears 119 
 
 ••L.L." 116 
 
 Lament for Thomas Davis 10 
 
 Lines found Written on the Wall 
 
 of a Prison Cell 151 
 
 Looking In 161 
 
 Lough-a-Seola 80 
 
 Loyalty 1* 
 
 Margaret Fuller OssoU 183 
 
 Mater Redcmptoris 198 
 
 Memory 144 
 
 Murmurs 87 
 
 Mysteries 133 
 
 My Nial Bawn . 93 
 
 National March 25 
 
 Native Thoughts 109 
 
 Near Me 167 
 
 Nevermore 189 
 
 No More 110 
 
 O'Brien 62 
 
 O'Donnell of Tipperary 45 
 
 On the Height 169 
 
 On the Sea 199 
 
 One Joy 173 
 
 One Thought 196 
 
 Our Course 15
 
 n* 
 
 UiDBS. 
 
 Our Memories 59 
 
 Onr Olden Tongue 55 
 
 Our True Men 39 
 
 Parting Words 114 
 
 Pictures in the Clouds 191 
 
 ProgrcBS 43 
 
 Princess Blanaid 81 
 
 Psyche's Dream 16G 
 
 Queensland ■ 170 
 
 Rosanna 98 
 
 Shadows 130 
 
 Silken Thomas 31 
 
 Sir Cahir O'Dohcrty 63 
 
 Solitude 153 
 
 Sonnets 184 
 
 Storm in the Bush 186 
 
 Stripes and Stars 123 
 
 Tears 103 
 
 The Ard-Bigh's Bride 52 
 
 The Age's Teachers 117 
 
 The Curse 49 
 
 The Dream of Eden 147 
 
 The Fallen Queen 23 
 
 The Felon 41 
 
 The Gathering 26 
 
 The Guardian Angel 164 
 
 The Holy Well 82 
 
 The Jewel Seeker 187 
 
 The Laureate 193 
 
 The Legend of Poul-na-Dhoul.. . 106 
 
 The Leprechaun 77 
 
 The Living and the Dead 170 
 
 The Lords of the Soil 22 
 
 The Lost May 200 
 
 The IxjHt Summer 104 
 
 The Lover King 162 
 
 The Maid of Lough Ina 73 
 
 The Magic Glass 179 
 
 The Murderer 37 
 
 The New Time ... 101 
 
 The.Meeting of the Saints 204 
 
 The Men in Jail for Ireland 70 
 
 The Oath of Allegiance 33 
 
 The Outlaw 69 
 
 The Patriot Mother 12 
 
 The People's Chief 48 
 
 The Prussians before Paris 134 
 
 The Rebel's Sermon 28 
 
 The Euined Home ■ 64 
 
 The Ruined Lyre 174 
 
 The Silent Land 195 
 
 The Skylark by the Shannon 94 
 
 The Sturm 146 
 
 The Two Sculptors 124 
 
 The Voice of the Kiver 115 
 
 The Unspoken ill 
 
 The Youth and His Shadow 203 
 
 • Tipperary 78 
 
 To a Spread Eagle 203 
 
 To the Magnates of Ireland 31 
 
 To the Shannon 75 
 
 To Thomas Francis Meagher 15 
 
 To Maria (a Valentine) 150 
 
 To My Patriot Brothers 58 
 
 Trinity Well 01 
 
 To the Wandering Wind 154 
 
 To Willie 182 
 
 Twilight 197 
 
 Words 145 
 
 Why I Sing 100 
 
 Wrecks 175
 
 INDEX. 
 
 376 
 
 Translations. 
 
 Homo Song (Chateaubriand) .... 222 
 
 My Mission (Beranger) 215 
 
 My Republic (Beranger) 217 
 
 So May it b ■ (Beranger) 219 
 
 Song of the Cossack (Bersnger).. 214 
 The Blind Girl (From the 
 
 Italian) 221 
 
 The Lady Fly (Hujjo) 218 
 
 Songs. 
 
 All Alone 241 
 
 A Longing 2G1 
 
 A Pledge 2.57 
 
 " A Kogue in his Coat " 206 
 
 As the Wild Bird 2i;S 
 
 A Word to You 247 
 
 Chant (The O'Connell Cente- 
 nary) 225 
 
 Dead Leaves 252 
 
 Ever! Ever! 25G 
 
 Fancies 247 
 
 Heart Thoughts 264 
 
 Lost! Lost! 2.50 
 
 Marching Song 227 
 
 Now and Then 258 
 
 Oh, Come to Me 254 
 
 Kemembrance 265 
 
 Song of the Irish Peasant 229 
 
 Star Song 246 
 
 Sun and Shade 248 
 
 The Bird in the Storm 245 
 
 The Boomerang 263 
 
 The Evening Star 249 
 
 The Golden Haired 255 
 
 The Moaning Harp 244 
 
 The One Sorrow 253 
 
 The Past 251 
 
 The Path across the Sea 262 
 
 The Peasant's Farewell 242 
 
 The Reed and the River 259 
 
 The Wind and the Moon 244 
 
 Without Thee 260 
 
 Yourself 268
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
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