That dark o'er the kingdoms of earth is returning, And, darkest of all, hapless Erin! o'er thee,

For high was thy hope, when those glories were darting

Around thee, through all the gross clouds of the world;

When Truth, from her fetters indignantly start


At once like a sun-burst ', her banner unlurl'd, Oh, never shall earth see a moment so splendid! Then, then, had one Hymn of Deliverance blen


The tongues of all nations, how sweet had ascended

The first note of Liberty, Erin! from thee.

But shame on those tyrants, who envied the bles


And shame on the light race, unworthy its


Who, at Death's reeking altar, like furies cares


The young hope of freedom, baptized it in blood!

<< The Sun-burst» was the fanciful name given by the ancient Irish to the royal banner.

Then vanish'd for ever that fair

sunny vision, Which, spite of the slavish, the cold heart's de


Shall long be remember'd, pure, bright, and ely


As first it arose, my lost Erin! on thee,


AIR Miss Molly.

I SAW from the beach, when the morning was


A bark o'er the waters move gloriously on; I came, when the sun o'er that beach was decli


The bark was still there, but the waters vere


Ah! such is the fate of our life's early promise! So passing the spring-tide of joy we have known;

Each wave that we danced on at morning ebbs

from us,

And leaves us, at eve, on the bleak shore ́alone.

Ne'er tell me of glories, serenely adorning

The close of our day, the calm eve of our night;

Give me back, give me back, the wild freshness of Morning,

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Her clouds and her tears are worth Evening's

best light.

Oh! who would not welcome that moment's re


When Passion first waked a new life through his frame,

And his soul, like the wood that grows precious in burning,

Gave out all its sweets to Love's exquisite flame!


AIR-Iob and Joan.

FILL the bumper fair
Every drop we sprinkle,
O'er the brow of Care
Smooths away a wrinkle.
Wit's electric flame

Ne'er so swiftly passes,

As when through the frame

It shoots from brimming glasses.

Fill the bumper fair!

Every drop we sprinkle

O'er the brow of Care
Smooths away a wrinkle

Sages can, they say,

Grasp the lightning's pinions,

And bring down its ray

From the starr'd dominions

So We, Sages, sit,

And 'mid bumpers bright'ning

From the Heav'n of Wit

Draw down all its lightning!

Fill the bumper fair! etc,

Wouldst thou know what first

Made our souls inherit This ennobling thirst

For wine's celestial spirit? It chanced upon that day, When, as bards inform us, Prometheus stole away

The living fires that warm us,

Fill the bumper fair! etc.

The careless youth, when up
To Glory's fount aspiring,
Took nor urn nòr cup

To hide the pilfer'd fire in:-
But, oh, his joy! when round
The halls of Heaven spying,
Amongst the stars he found
A bowl of Bacchus lying,

Fill the bumper fair! etc.

Some drops were in the bowl,

Remains of last night's pleasure,

With which the sparks of soul

Mix'd their burning treasure!

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