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Hence the goblet's shower

Hath such spells to win us-
Hence its mighty power

O'er that flame within us.
Fill the bumper fair! etc.

THE FAREWELL TO N

THE FAREWELL TO MY HARP. .

Air-New Langolee.

Dear Harp of my Country! in darkness I found

thee, The cold chain of silence had hung o'er thee Salong, 2

* In that rebellious but beautiful song «When Erin first rose » there is, if I recollect right, the following line :

«The dark chain of silence was thrown o er the deep.»

The Chain of Silence was a sort of practical figure of rhetoric among the ancient Irish. Walker tells us of «a celebrated contention for precedence between Finn and Gaul, near-Finn's palace, at Almhaim, where the attending bards, anxious, if possible, to produce à cessa

When proudly, my own Island Harp! I unbound

thee, And gave all thy chords to light, freedom, and

song! :

The warm lay of love and the light note of glad

ness Have waken’d thy fondest, thy liveliest thrill ; But so oft hast thou echo'd the deep sigh of sad

ness, That ev'n in thy mirth it will steal from thee

still.

Dear Harp of my Country ! farewell to thy numa

bers, · This sweet wreath of song is the last we shall

. twine; Go,-sleep, with the sunshine of fame on thy

slumbers, Till touch'd by some hand less unworthy than

mine.

If the pulse of the patrist, soldier, or lover,

Have throbb’d at our l»v, 'tis thy glory alone;

tion of hostilitics, shook the Cvain of Silence, and Aung themselves ainong the ranks.» -See also the Ode to Gaul, the son of Morni, in Miss Prook's «Reliques of Irish Poetry

I was but as the wind, passing heedlessly over, . And all the wild sweetness I waked was thy

own!

MY GENTLE HARP.

R- The Coina or Dirge

My gentle Harp: once more « waken

The sweetness of thy slumb'ring strain ; In tears our last farewell was taken,

And now in tears we meet again. . No light of joy hath o'er thee broken,

But, like those harps, whose heavenly skill Of slavery, dark as thine, hath spoken

Thou hang'st upon the willows still.

And yet, since last thy chord resounded,

An liour of peace and triumph came, When many an ardent bosom bounded

With hopes-that now are turn'd to shape. Yet even then, while Peace was singing

Her halcyon song o'er land and sea, Though joy and hope to others bringing,

She only brought new tears to thee.

Then, who can ask for uoles of pleasure,

My drooping Harp from chords like thine : Alas! the lark's gay morning measure

As ill would suit the swan's decline ! Or how shall I, who love, who bless thee,

Invoke thy breath for freedom's strains, When ev’n the wreaths, in which I dress thee, Are sadly mix'd-half flow'rs, half chairs !

But come,-if yet thy frame can berrow

One breath of joy-oh, breatke for me,
And shew the world, in chains and sorrow,

How sweet thy music still can be;
How lightly, ev’n mid gloom surrounding,

Thou yet canst wake at pleasure's thrill-
Like Meronon's broken image, sounding,

Mid desolation tuneful still!!

1 Dimidio magicæ résonant ubi Memnone chorde, Atque vetus Thebe centum jacet obruta portis.

Juvenal. AS SLOW OUR SHIP.

Air-The Girl I left behind me.

As slow our ship her foamy track

Against the wind was cleaving, Her trembling pennant still look'd back

To that dear isle 'twas leaving,
So loath we part from all we, love,

From all the links that bind us ;
So turn our hearts, where'er we, rove,

To those we've left behind us.

When, round the bowl, of vanish'd years

We talk, with joyous seeming,
And smiles. Lhat might as well be tears,

So faint, so sad their beaming;
While mem'ry brings us back again

Each early tie that twined us, Oh sweet's the cup that circles then

To those we've left behind us.

And, when in other climes we meet

Some isle or vale enchanting,

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