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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

darting

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

ded

The tongues of all nations, how sweet had ascen

ded
The first note of Liberty, Erin! from thee.

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

blood!

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.

Art-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 decli

ning, The bark was still there, but the waters vere

gone?

Ah! such is the fate of our life's early promise! So passing the spring-tide of joy we have

i known;

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
The close of our day, the calm eve of our

night;Give me back, give me back, the wild freskness

of Morning, Her clouds and her tears are worth Evening's

best light.

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

flame!

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Fill the bumper fair

Every drop we sprinkle,:.
O'er the brow of Care

Smooths 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

Smooths away a wrinkles

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

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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.

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Some drops were in the bowl,

Remains of last night's pleasure, With which the sparks of soul

Mix'd their burning treasure !

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