« VorigeDoorgaan »
THE TIME I'VE LOST IN WOOING.
AIR-Pease upon a Trencher.
THE time I've lost in wooing,
The light that lies
In Woman's eyes,
Were Woman's looks,
And Folly's all they've taught me.
Her smile when Beauty granted,
Like him the Sprite
This alludes to a kind of Irish fairy, which is to be met with, they say, in the fields, at dusk ;—as long as you keep your eyes upon him, he is fixed and in your power; but the moment you look away (and he is inge
Whom maids by night
Was turn'd away.
! winds could not outrun me.
And are those follies going?
For brilliant eyes
Again to set it glowing?
Poor Wisdom's chance
Against a glance
Is now as weak as ever!
nious in furnishing some inducement) he vanishes.I had thought that this was the sprite which we call the Leprechaun; but a high authority upon such subjects, Lady MORGAN (in a note upon her national and interesting novel, «O'Donnel») has given a very different account of that goblin.
OH! WHERE'S THE SLAVE!
AIR-Sios agus sios liom.
OH! where's the slave so lowly,
His bonds at first,
Would pine beneath them slowly? What soul, whose wrongs degrade it, Would wait till time decay'd it, When thus its wing
At once may spring
To the the throne of Him who made it?
Farewell, Erin! farewell all,
Who live to weep our fall!
Less dear the aurel growing,
The brows with victory glowing!
The friends we've tried
And the foe we hate before us!
COME, REST IN THIS BOSOM.
COME, rest in this bosom. my own stricken deer!
Though the herd have fled from thee, thy nome is still here:
Here still is the smile that no cloud can o'er
And the heart and the hand all thy own to the last;
Oh! what was ove made for, if 'tis not the same Through joy and through torments, through glory and shame!
I know not, I ask not, if guilt's in that heart,
Thou hast call'd me thy angel, in moments of bliss,
Still thy angel I'll be, mid the horrors of this, Through the furnace. unshrinking, thy steps to
And shield thee, and save thee, or perish there too!
'TIS GONE, AND FOR EVER.
'Tis gone, and for ever, the light we saw breaking, Like Heaven's first dawn o'er the sleep of the
When man, from the slumber of ages awaking, Look'd upward and bless'd the pure ray ere it fled!
'Tis gone, and the gleams it has left of its burning, But deepen the long night of bondage and mour