NA of St. Augustine) from which the wine of error might be administered. To those who identify nationality with treason, and who see in every effort for Ireland a system of hostility owards England-to those too, who, nursed in the gloom of prejudice, are alarmed by the faintest gleam of liberality that threatens to disturb their darkness, like that Demophon of old who, when the sun shone upon him, shivered!*-to such men I shall not deign to apologise for the warmth of any political sentiment which may occur in the course of these pages. But as there are many among the more wise and tolerant who, with feeling enough to mourn over the wrongs of their country, and sense enough to perceive all the danger of not redressing them, may yet think that allusions in the least degree bold or inflammatory should be avoided in a publication of this popular description-I beg of these respected persons to believe that there is no one who deprecates more sincerely than I do any appeal to the passions of an ignorant and angry multitude; but that it is not through that gross and inflammable region of society a work of this nature could ever have been intended to circulate. It looks much higher for its audience and readers-it is found upon the pianofortes of the rich and the educated-of those who can afford to have their national zeal a little stimulated without exciting much dread of the excesses into which it may hurry them; and of many whose nerves may be now and then alarmed with advantage, as much more is to be gained by their fears than could ever be expected from their justice. Having thus adverted to the principal objection which has been hitherto made to the poetical part of this work, allow me to add a few words in defence of my ingenious coadjutor, Sir John Stevenson, who has been accused of having spoiled the simplicity of the airs, by the chromatic richness of his symphonies, and the elaborate variety of his harmonies. We might cite the example of the admirable Haydn, who has sported through all the mazes of musical science in his arrangement of the simplest Scottish melodies; but it appears to me that Sir John Stevenson has brought a national feeling to this task, which it would be in vain to expect from a foreigner, however tasteful or judicious. Through many of his own compositions we trace a vein of Irish sentiment, which points him out as peculiarly suited to catch the spirit of his country's music; and, far from agreeing with those critics who think that his symphonies have nothing kindred with the airs which they introduce, I would say that, in general, they resemble those illuminated initials of old manuscripts which are of the same character with the writing which follows, though more highly coloured and more curiously ornamented. In those airs which are arranged for voices, his skill has particularly distinguished itself, and, though it cannot be denied that a single melody most naturally expresses the language of feeling and passion, yet often, when a favourite strain has been dismissed as "This emblem of modern bigots was head-butler (TраπEŠOπolos) to Alexander the Great."-Sext. Empir. Pyrrh. Hypoth., lib. i + The word chromatic" might have been used here, without any violence its meaning, Erin! thy silent tear never shall cease, Thy various tints unite, OH! BREATHE NOT HIS NAME. OH! breathe not his name; let it sleep in the shade, But the night-dew that falls, though in silence it weeps. WHEN HE WHO ADORES THEE. WHEN he who adores thee has left but the name Of his fault and his sorrows behind, 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, With thee were the dreams of my earliest love; In my last humble prayer to the Spirit above, Oh! blest are the lovers and friends who shall live But the next dearest blessing that Heaven can give THE HARP THAT ONCE THROUGH TARA'S HALLS. THE harp that once through Tara's halls The soul of music shed Now hangs as mute on Tara's walls As if that soul were fled. So sleeps the pride of former days, So glory's thrill is o'er, And hearts, that once beat high for praise, M No more to chiefs and ladies bright The chord alone, that breaks at night, Thus Freedom now so seldom wakes, Is when some heart indignant breaks, FLY NOT YET. FLY not yet; 'tis just the hour And maids who love the moon. 'Twas but to bless these hours of shade Fly not yet; the fount that played Yet still, like souls of mirth, began To burn when night was near, And thus should woman's heart and looks Nor kindle till the night, returning, When did morning ever break, OH THINK NOT MY SPIRITS ARE ALWAYS AS LIGHT. Oi! think not my spirits are always as light, 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. * Solis Fons, near the Temple of Ammon. Y But send round the bowl, and be happy awhile :~ The thread of our life would be dark, Heaven knows! When these blessings shall cease to be dear to my mind. Too often have wept o'er the dream they believed; But send round the bowl; while a relic of truth Is in man or in woman, this prayer shall be mine,— And the moonlight of friendship console our decline. THOUGH THE LAST GLIMPSE OF ERIN WITH SORROW THOUGH the last glimpse of Erin with sorrow I see, To the gloom of some desert or cold rocky shore, And I'll gaze on thy gold hair as graceful it wreathes, ·RICH AND RARE WERE THE GEMS SHE WORE.t And a bright gold ring on her wand she bore; "In the twenty-eighth year of the reign of Henry VIII., an act was made respecting the habits, and dress in general, of the Irish, whereby all persons were restrained from being shorn or shaven above the ears, or from wearing Glibbes, or Coulins (long locks), on their heads, or hair on their upper lip, called Crommeal. On this occasion a song was written by one of our bards, in which an Irish virgin is made to give the preference to her dear Coulin (or the youth with the flowing locks) to all strangers (by which the English were meant), or those who wore their habits. Of this song, the air alone has reached us, and is universally admired."-Walker's Historical Memoirs of Irish Bards, page 134. Mr. Walker informs us also that, about the same period, there were some harsh measures taken against the Irish minstrels. This ballad is founded upon the following anecdote :-"The people were inspired with such a spirit of honour, virtue, and religion, by the great example But oh! her beauty was far beyond "Lady, dost thou not fear to stray, So lone and lovely, through this bleak way? As not to be tempted by woman or gold?" "Sir Knight! I feel not the least alarm, For, though they love women and golden store, On she went, and her maiden smile In safety lighted her round the green isle ; AS A BEAM O'ER THE FACE OF THE WATERS MAY GLOW. While the tide runs in darkness and coldness below, One fatal remembrance, one sorrow that throws Oh! this thought in the midst of enjoyment will stay, THE MEETING OF THE WATERS.* THERE is not in the wide world a valley so sweet Ere the bloom of that valley shall fade from my heart. of Brien, and by his excellent administration, that, as a proof of it, we are informed that a young lady of great beauty, adorned with jewels and costly dress, undertook a journey alone from one end of the kingdom to the other, with a wand only in her hand, at the top of which was a ring of exceeding great value; and such an impression had the laws and government of this monarch made on the minds of all the people, that no attempt was made upon her honour, nor was she robbed of her clothes or jewels."-Warner's History of Ireland, vol. i. book ro. "The Meeting of the Waters" forms a part of that beautiful scenery which lies between Rathdrum and Arklow, in the county of Wicklow, and these lines were suggested by a visit to this romantic spot in the summer of the year 1807. †The rivers Avon and Avoca. |