But she lov'd him in vain, for he left her to weep, And in tears, all the night, her gold tresses to steep, Till Heaven look'd with pity on true love so warm, And chang❜d to this soft Harp the sea maiden's form.

Still her bosom rose fair—still her cheeks smil'd the same

While her sea-beauties gracefully formed the light frame;

And her hair, as, let loose, o'er her white arm it fell, Was chang'd to bright chords uttering melody's spell.

Hence it came that this soft Harp so long hath been known

To mingle love's language with sorrow's sad tone; Till thou didst divide them, and teach the fond lay To speak love when I'm near thee, and grief when

away.

LOVE'S YOUNG DREAM.

OH! the days are gone, when Beauty bright
My heart's chain wove;

When my dream of life, from morn till night,
Was love, still love!

New hope may bloom,
And days may come,
Of milder, calmer beam,

But there's nothing half so sweet in life
As love's young dream:

No, there's nothing half so sweet in life
As love's young dream.

Though the bard to purer fame may soar,
When wild youth's past;

Though he win the wise, who frown'd before,
To smile at last;

He'll never meet

A joy so sweet,

In all his noon of fame,

As when first he sung to woman's ear
His soul-felt flame,

And, at every close, she blush'd to hear
The one lov'd name!

No, that hallow'd form is ne'er forgot,
Which first love trac'd ;

Still it lingering haunts the greenest spot
On memory's waste.

'Twas odor fled

As soon as shed;

'Twas morning's winged dream

'Twas a light that ne'er can shine again On life's dull stream:

Oh! 'twas light that ne'er can shine again On life's dull stream.

THE PRINCE'S DAY.*

THO' dark are our sorrows, to-day we'll forget them, And smile through our tears, like a sunbeam in

showers;

There never were hearts, if our rulers would let them, More form'd to be grateful and blest than ours. But just when the chain

Has ceased to pain,

And hope has enwreath'd it round with flowers,
There comes a new link

Our spirits to sink

O, the joy that we taste, like the light of the poles, Is a flash amid darkness, too brilliant to stay; But though 'twere the last little spark in our souls, We must light it up now, on our Prince's Day.

Contempt on the minion, who calls you disloyal!

Tho' fierce to your foe, to your friends you are true; And the tribute most high to a head that is royal, Is love from a heart that loves liberty too. While cowards, who blight

Your fame, your right,

Would shrink from the blaze of the battle array,
The standard of Green

In front would be seen

* This song was written for a fête in honor of the Prince of Wales' birth day, given by my friend, Major Bryan, last year (1810) at his seat in the county of Kilkenny.

G

Oh, my life on your faith! were you summon'd this

minute,

You'd cast every bitter remembrance away, And show what the arm of old Erin has in it,

When rous'd by the foe on her Prince's Day.

He loves the Green Isle, and his love is recorded

In hearts which have suffered too much to forget; And hope shall be crown'd, and attachment rewarded, And Erin's gay jubilee shine out yet. The gem may be broke

By many a stroke,

But nothing can cloud its native ray ;
Each fragment will cast

A light to the last,—

And thus Erin, my country, though broken thou art, There's a lustre within thee that ne'er will decay; A spirit which beams through each suffering part, And now smiles at all pain on the Prince's Day.

WEEP ON, WEEP ON.

WEEP on, weep on, your hour is past ;
Your dreams of pride are o'er;

The fatal chain is round you cast,

And you are men no more.

In vain the hero's heart hath bled

The sage's tongue hath warn'd in vain,—
Oh, Freedom! once thy flame hath fled,
It never lights again!

Weep on perhaps in after days.

They'll learn to love your name : When many a deed may wake in praise That long hath slept in blame.

And when they tread the ruin'd aisle

Where rest, at length, the lord and slave, They'll wondering ask, how hands so vile Could conquer hearts so brave?

""Twas fate," they'll say, "a wayward fate, Your web of discord wove;

And while your tyrants join'd in hate,
You never join'd in love.

But hearts fell off, that ought to twine,

And man profan'd what God had given, Till some were heard to curse the shrine, Where others knelt to heaven."

LESBIA HATH A BEAMING EYE.

LESBIA hath a beaming eye,

But no one knows for whom it beameth;

Right and left its arrows fly,

But what they aim at no one dreameth. Sweeter 'tis to gaze upon

My Nora's lid that seldom rises;

Few its looks, but every one,

Like unexpected light, surprises.
Oh, my Nora Creina, dear,
My gentle, bashful Nora Creina,