Obrázky na stránke

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


When Truth, from her fetters indignantly starting,

At once, like a sun-burst, her banner unfurl'd.* Oh, never shall earth see a moment so splendid! Then, then-had one Hymn of Deliverance blended 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 blessing!
And shame on the light race, unworthy its good,
Who, at Death's reeking altar, like furies, caressing
The young hope of Freedom, baptized it in blood!
Then vanish'd for ever that fair, sunny vision,
Which, spite of the slavish, the cold heart's derision,
Shall long be remember'd, pure, bright and elysian,
As first it arose, my lost ERIN! on thee.

"The Sun-burst" was the fanciful name given by the ancient Irish to the Royal Banner.


AIR.-Miss Molly.


I SAW from the beach, when the morning was shining, A bark o'er the waters move gloriously on;

I came, when the sun o'er that beach was declining,— The bark was still there, but the waters were gone!


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


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,

Her clouds and her tears are worth Evening's best


Oh, who would not welcome that moment's returning, When passion first waked a new life through his


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

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


AIR.-Bob and Joan.


FILL the bumper fair!

Every drop we sprinkle

O'er the brow of Care,

Smoothes 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,

Smoothes 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 Heaven of Wit

Draw down all its lightning!
Fill the bumper, 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, etc.


The careless Youth, when up

To Glory's fount aspiring,

Took nor urn nor 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, etc.


Some drops were in that bowl,

Remains of last night's pleasure, With which the Sparks of Soul Mix'd their burning treasure!

Hence the goblet's shower

Hath such spells to win us—

Hence its mighty power

O'er that Flame within us.

Fill the bumper, etc.



« PredošláPokračovať »