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That dark o'er the kingdoms of earth is returning,
And, darkest of all, hapless Erin! o'er thee,
For liigh was thy hope, when those glories were
Around thee, through all the gross clouds of the
world; When Truth, from her fetters indignantly start
ing, At once like a sun-burst", her banner unlurld, Oh, never shall earth see a moment so splendid ! Then, then, had one Hymn of Deliverance blen
The tongues of all nations, how sweet had ascen
But shame on those tyrants, who envied the bles
sing! And shame on the light race, unworthy its
good, Who, at Death's reeking altar, like furies cares
sing, The young hope of freedom, baptized it in
1 « The Sun-burst» was the fanciful name given by the ancient Irish to the royal banner.
Then vanish'd for ever that fair sunny vision, Which, spite of the slayish, the cold heart's de
risions Shall long bc remember'd, pure, bright, and ely-
sian, As first it arose, my lost Erin! on thee, .
I SAW FROM THE BEACH.
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 decli
ning, The bark was still there, but the waters vere
Ah! such is the fate of our life's early promise! So passing the spring-tide of joy we have
Each' wave that we danced on at morning ebbs
from us, And leaves us, at eve, on the bleak shore’alone.
Ne'er tell me of glories, serenely adorning
night;Give me back, give me back, the wild freskness
of Morning, Her clouds and her tears are worth Evening's
Oh! who would not welcome that moment's re
turning, When Passion first waked a new life through
his frame, And his soul, like the wood that grows precious
in burning, Gave out all its sweets to Love's exquisito
Fill the bumper fair
Every drop we sprinkle,:.
Smooths away a wrinkle...?
Ne'er so swiftly passes, As when through the frame · It shoots from brimming glasses.
Fill the bumper fair!
Every drop we sprinkle.
Smooths away a wrinkles
Sages can, they say,
Grasp the lightning's pinions,
From the starr'd dominions-
From the Heav'n of Wit
Draw down all its lightning! Fill the bumper fair! etc,
Wouldst thou know what first Made our souls inherit This ennobling thirst
For wine's celestial spirit? It chanced upon that day,
When, aś bards inform us, Prometheus stole away
The living fires that wară uš, Fill the bumper fàir! etc.
Some drops were in the bowl,
Remains of last night's pleasure, With which the sparks of soul
Mix'd their burning treasure !