Like a bark on the ocean, long shattered and tost,
On the land of your fathers at length you are lost;
The hand of the spoiler is stretched on your plains,
And you're doom'd from your cradles to bondage and
chains.

Oh where is the beauty that beam'd on thy brow?
Strong hand in the battle, how weak art thou now!
That heart is now broken that never would quail,
And thy high songs are turned into weeping and wail.

Bright shades of our sires! from your home in the skies,
Oh blast not your sons with the scorn of your eyes!
Proud spirit of Gollam, how red is thy cheek,
For thy freemen are slaves, and thy mighty are weak!

O'Nial of the Hostages, Con, whose high name
On a hundred red battles has floated to fame,
Let the long grasses sigh undisturbed o'er thy sleep;
Arise not to shame us, awake not to weep.

In thy broad wing of darkness enfold us, O Night!
Withhold, O bright sun, the reproach of thy light!
For freedom or valour no more can'st thou see
In the home of the brave, in the isles of the free.

Affliction's dark waters your spirits have bow'd,
And oppression hath wrapped all your land in its shroud,
Since first from the Brehon's pure justice you stray'd,
And bent to those laws the proud Saxon has made.

We know not our country, so strange is her face;
Her sons, once her glory, are now her disgrace;
Gone, gone is the beauty of fair Innisfail,
For the stranger now rules in the land of the Gael.

LAMENT FOR IRELAND-ADARE.

197

Where, where are the woods that oft rung to your cheer, Where you waked the wild chase of the wolf and the deer?

Can those dark heights, with ramparts all frowning and riven,

Be the hills where your forests wav'd brightly in heaven?

O bondsmen of Egypt, no Moses appears,

To light your dark steps through this desert of tears!
Degraded and lost ones, no Hector is nigh

To lead you to freedom, or teach you to die!
O'GNIVE (translated by JAMES JOSEPH CALLANAN).

ADARE.

O SWEET ADARE! O lovely vale!
O soft retreat of sylvan splendour !
Nor summer sun, nor morning gale,
E'er hailed a scene more softly tender.
How shall I tell the thousand charms
Within thy verdant bosom dwelling,
Where, lulled in Nature's fost'ring arms,
Soft peace abides and joy excelling!

Ye morning airs, how sweet at dawn

The slumbering boughs your song awaken,

Or linger o'er the silent lawn,

With odour of the harebell taken!
Thou rising sun, how richly gleams

Thy smile from far Knockfierna's mountain,
O'er waving woods and bounding streams,
And many a grove and glancing fountain!

Ye clouds of noon, how freshly there, meadows,

When summer heats the open O'er parched hill and valley fair,

All coolly lie your veiling shadows! Ye rolling shades and vapours grey,

Slow creeping o'er the golden heaven, How soft ye seal the eye of day,

And wreath the dusky brow of even!

In sweet Adare the jocund Spring

His notes of odorous joy is breathing; The wild birds in the woodland sing,

The wild flowers in the vale are wreathing. There winds the Mague, as silver-clear,

Among the elms so sweetly flowing; There, fragrant in the early year,

Wild roses on the banks are blowing.

The wild-duck seeks the sedgy bank,
Or dives beneath the glistening billow,
Where graceful droop, and clustering dank,
The osier bright and rustling willow.
The hawthorn scents the leafy dale,
In thicket lone the stag is belling,

And sweet along the echoing vale
The sound of vernal joy is swelling.

GERALD GRIFFIN.

ORANGE AND GREEN.

COME, pledge again thy heart and hand--
One grasp that ne'er shall sever :
Our watchword be, ‘Our native land!'
Our motto, 'Love for ever.'

ORANGE AND GREEN.

199

And let the Orange lily be

Thy badge, my patriot brotherThe everlasting Green for me; And we for one another.

Behold how green the gallant stem
On which the flower is blowing;
How in one heavenly breeze and beam
Both flower and stem are glowing!
The same good soil, sustaining both,
Makes both united flourish ;

But cannot give the Orange growth,
And cease the Green to nourish.

Yea, more—the hand that plucks the flow'r
Will vainly strive to cherish;
The stem blooms on-but in that hour
The flower begins to perish.
Regard them, then, of equal worth,
While lasts their genial weather;
The time's at hand when into earth
The two shall sink together.

E'en thus be, in our country's cause,
Our party feelings blended;

Till lasting peace, from equal laws,

On both shall have descended.

Till then the Orange lily be

Thy badge, my patriot brother

The everlasting Green for me;

And-we for one another.

JOHN D. FRASER.

O BAY OF DUBLIN!

O BAY OF DUBLIN ! my heart you're troublin',

Your beauty haunts me like a fevered dream; Like frozen fountains that the sun sets bubblin', My heart's blood warms when I but hear your name. And never till this life-pulse ceases,

My earliest thought you'll cease to be;

Oh! there's no one here knows how fair that place is, And no one cares how dear it is to me.

Sweet Wicklow Mountains! the sunlight sleeping
On your green banks is a picture rare:
You crowd around me, like young girls peeping,
And puzzling me to say which is most fair;
As though you'd see your own sweet faces,
Reflected in that smooth and silver sea.
Oh! my blessin' on those lovely places,
Though no one cares how dear they are to mc.

How often when at work I'm sitting,

And musing sadly on the days of yore,

I think I see my Katey knitting,

And the children playing round the cabin door; I think I see the neighbours' faces

All gather'd round, their long-lost friend to see. Oh! though no one knows how fair that place is,

Heaven knows how dear my poor home was to me. LADY DUFFERIN.