II.

Weep on-perhaps in after days
They'll learn to love your name;
When many a deed shall wake in praise
That now must sleep in blame!

And, when they tread the ruin'd isle,

Where rest, at length, the lord and slave, They'll wond'ring ask, how hands so vile Could conquer hearts so brave.

III.

""Twas fate," they'll say, " a wayward fate "Your web of discord wove;

“And, while your tyrants join'd in hate, "You never join'd in love!

"But hearts fell off that ought to twine,

"And man profaned what God hath given, "Till some were heard to curse the shrine

"Where others knelt to Heaven!"

LESBIA HATH A BEAMING EYE.

AIR.-Nora Creina.

I.

LESBIA hath a beaming eye,

But no one knows for whom it beameth;

Right and left its arrows fly,

But what they aim at no one dreameth!

Sweeter 'tis to gaze upon

My NORA's lid, that seldom rises;

Few its looks, but every one,

Like unexpected light, surprises!
Oh, my NORA CREINA, dear!

My gentle, bashful NORA CREINA!
Beauty lies

In many eyes,

But love in yours, my NORA CREINA!

II.

LESBIA wears a robe of gold,

But all so close the nymph hath laced it, Not a charm of Beauty's mould

Presumes to stay where Nature placed it!

Oh! my NORA'S gown for me,

That floats as wild as mountain breezes, Leaving every beauty free

To sink or swell, as Heaven pleases!
Yes, my NORA GREINA, dear!

My simple, graceful NORA GREINA!
Nature's dress

Is loveliness--

The dress you wear, my NORA Creina!

III.

LESBIA hath a wit refined,

But, when its points are gleaming round us, Who can tell if they're design'd

To dazzle merely or to wound us?
Pillow'd on my NORA's heart,

In safer slumber Love reposes
Bed of peace! whose roughest part
Is but the crumpling of the roses.
Oh, my NORA CREINA, dear!
My mild, my artless NORA CREINA!

Wit, though bright,

Hath not the light

That warms your eyes, my

NORA CREINA!

I SAW THY FORM IN YOUTHFUL PRIME.

AIR.-Domhnall.

I.

I SAW thy form in youthful prime,
Nor thought that pale decay
Would steal before the steps of time,
And waste its bloom away, MARY!
Yet still thy features wore that light
Which fleets not with the breath;

And life ne'er look'd more truly bright
Than in thy smile of death, MARY!

II.

As streams that run o'er golden mines,
Yet humbly, calmly glide,

Nor seem to know the wealth that shines

Within their gentle tide, MARY! So, veil'd beneath the simplest guise,

Thy radiant genius shone,

And that which charm'd all other eyes

Seem'd worthless in 'thy own, MARY!

III.

If souls could always dwell above,
Thou ne'er hadst left that sphere;
Or, could we keep the souls we love,

We ne'er had lost thee here, MARY!
Though many a gifted mind we meet,
Though fairest forms we see,

To live with them is far less sweet
Than to remember thee, MARY! *

BY THAT LAKE, WHOSE GLOOMY SHORE.†

AIR.-The Brown Irish Girl.

I.

By that Lake, whose gloomy shore
Sky-lark never warbles o'er, §

* I have here made a feeble effort to imitate that exquisite inscription of Shenstone's, "Heu! quanto minus est cum reliquis versari quam tui meminisse !"

This Ballad is founded upon one of the many stories related of St. Kevin, whose bed in the rock is to be seen at Glendalough, a most gloomy and romantic spot in the County of Wicklow.

§ There are many other curious traditions concerning this Lake, which may be found in Giraldus, Colgan, etc.