GO WHERE GLORY WAITS THEE. Go where glory waits thee, Oh! then remember me. Oh! then remember me! When, at eve, thou rovest Oh! then remember me. Oft as summer closes, Once so lov'd by thee, When, around thee dying, Oh! then remember me. Oh! still remember me. Draw one tear from thee; Oh! then remember me. OH! BREATHE NOT HIS NAME. Oh! breathe not his name, let it sleep in the shade, WHEN HE, WHO ADORES THEE. When he, who adores thee, has left but the name Oh! say wilt thou weep, when they darken the fame Yes, weep, and however my foes may condemn, For Heaven can witness, though guilty to them, With thee, were the dreams of my earliest love; In my last humble prayer, to the Spirit above, Oh! blest are the lovers and friends who shall live The days of thy glory to see; But the next dearest blessing that Heaven can give Is the pride of thus dying for thee. In the following song, mark-how strangely beautiful and weirdlike is the flow of the uncommon measure! It is perfect, but requires the aid of the music fully to interpret and evolve the very peculiar rhythm: AT THE MID HOUR OF NIGHT. At the mid hour of night, when stars are weeping, I fly Then I sing the wild song 'twas once such pleasure to hear! Faintly answering still the notes that once were so dear. OH THE SHAMROCK, Through Erin's Isle, As Love and Valour wander'd, Whose quiver bright A thousand arrows squander'd. Where'er they pass, A triple grass Shoots up, with dew-drops streaming, As softly green As emeralds seen Through purest crystal gleaming. Oh the Shamrock, the green, immortal Shamrock! Of Bard and Chief, Old Erin's native Shamrock! Says Valour, "See, They spring for me, Those leafy gems of morning!"-– Says Love, "No, no, For me they grow, My fragrant path adorning." But Wit perceives The triple leaves, Three godlike friends, Love, Valour, Wit, for ever!" Oh the Shamrock, the green, immortal Shamrock! Chosen leaf Of Bard and Chief, Old Erin's native Shamrock! So firmly fond May last the bond They wove that morn together, One drop of gall On Wit's celestial feather. May Love, as twine His flowers divine, Of thorny falsehood weed 'em ; May Valour ne'er His standard rear Against the cause of Freedom! Oh the Shamrock, the green, immortal Shamrock! Chosen leaf Of Bard and Chief, Old Erin's native Shamrock! THE YOUNG MAY MOON. The young May moon is beaming, love, Through Morna's grove, When the drowsy world is dreaming, love! Then awake!-the heavens look bright, my dear, 'Tis never too late for delight, my dear, And the best of all ways To lengthen our days, Is to steal a few hours from the night, my dear! Now all the world is sleeping, love, But the Sage, his star-watch keeping, love, More glorious far, Is the eye from that casement peeping, love. Of bodies of light, He might happen to take thee for one, my dear. THE HARP THAT ONCE THROUGH The harp that once through Tara's halls Now hangs as mute on Tara's walls, As if that soul were fled. So sleeps the pride of former days, So glory's thrill is o'er, And hearts, that once beat high for praise, No more to chiefs and ladies bright The harp of Tara swells; The chord alone, that breaks at night, Its tale of ruin tells. Thus Freedom now so seldom wakes, The only throb she gives, Is when some heart indignant breaks, THE MEETING OF THE WATERS. There is not in the wide world a valley so sweet Yet it was not that Nature had shed o'er the scene (109) K |