Forget not our wounded companions, who stood* While the moss of the valley grew red with their blood, They stirr'd not, but conquer'd and died. That sun which now blesses our arms with his light Saw them fall upon Ossory's pain ; Oh, let him not blush when he leaves us to-night, To find that they fell there in vain! ERIN, THE TEAR AND THE SMILE. RIN! the tear and the smile in thine eyes, FRIN! Blend like the rainbow that hangs in thy skies! Saddening through pleasure's beam, Thy suns with doubtful gleam Weep while they rise. * This alludes to an interesting circumstance related of the Dalgais, the favorite troops of Brien, when they were interrupted in their return from the battle of Clontarf, by Fitzpatrick, prince of Ossory. The wounded men entreated that they might be allowed to fight with the rest. "Let stakes be stuck in the ground,” said they, "and suffer each of us, tied to and supported by one of these stakes, to be placed in his rank by the side of a sound man.”—-"Between seven and eight hundred wounded men," adds O'Halloran, "pale, emaciated, and supported in this manner, appeared mixed with the foremost of the troops; never was such another sight exhibited." Hist. Ireland, bk. xii. chap. 1. Erin! thy silent tear never shall cease, Thy various tints unite, O BREATHE NOT HIS NAME! H breathe not his name! let it sleep in the shade, OH Where cold and unhonor'd his relics are laid: Sad, silent, and dark, be the tears that we shed, As the night-dew that falls on the grass o'er his head. But the night-dew that falls, tho' in silence it weeps, Shall brighten with verdure the grave where he sleeps, And the tear that we shed, though in secret it rolls, Shall long keep his memory green in our souls. WHEN HE WHO ADORES THEE. WHEN HEN 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, D With thee were the dreams of my earliest love ; Oh! blest are the lovers and friends who shall live But the next dearest blessing that Heaven can give Is the pride of thus dying for thee. THE HARP THAT ONCE THRO' TARA'S HALLS. 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, And hearts, that once beat high for praise, No more to chiefs and ladies bright, The chord alone, that breaks at night, Its tale of ruin tells. Thus Freedom now so seldom wakes, Is when some heart indignant breaks, FLY NOT YET. LY not yet, 'tis just the hour FLY When pleasure, like the midnight flower, That scorns the eye of vulgar light, Begins to bloom for sons of night, And maids who love the moon. 'Twas but to bless these hours of shade That beauty and the moon were made; 'Tis then their soft attractions glowing Set the tides and goblets flowing. Oh stay! Oh stay! Joy so seldom weaves a chain Fly not yet, the fount that play'd And thus should woman's heart and looks When did morning ever break, *Solis Fons, near the Temple of Ammon. O, THINK NOT MY SPIRITS ARE ALWAYS AS LIGHT. H! think not my spirits are always as light, OH! And as free from a pang, as they seem to you now Nor expect that the heart-beaming smile of to-night Will return with to-morrow to brighten my brow. No-life is a waste of wearisome hours, Which seldom the rose of enjoyment adorns; And the heart that is soonest awake to the flowers Is always the first to be touched by the thorns. But send round the bowl, and be happy awhile : May we never meet worse, in our pilgrimage here, Than the tear that enjoyment can gild with a smile, And the smile that compassion can turn to a tear. The thread of our life would be dark, Heaven knows! If it were not with friendship and love intertwin'd; And I care not how soon I may sink to repose, When these blessings shall cease to be dear to my mind. But they who have lov'd the fondest, the purest, Too often have wept o'er the dream they believ'd; And the heart that has slumber'd in friendship se curest Is happy indeed if 'twas never deceiv'd. Is in man or in woman, this prayer shall be mine : That the sunshine of love may illumine our youth, And the moonlight of friendship console our de cline. |