Where the cliff hangs high and steep,

Young Saint KEVIN stole to sleep.

"Here at least," he calmly said, "Woman ne'er shall find

my bed."

Ah! the good saint little knew

What that wily sex can do.

II.

'Twas from KATHLEEN's eyes he flewEyes of most unholy blue!

She had loved him well and long,
Wish'd him her's, nor thought it wrong.
Wheresoe'er the saint would fly,

Still he heard her light foot nigh;
East or west, where'er he turn'd,

Still her eyes before him burn'd.

III.

On the bold cliff's bosom cast,
Tranquil now he sleeps at last;
Dreams of Heaven, nor thinks that e'er
Woman's smile can haunt him there.
But nor earth, nor Heaven is free
From her power, if fond she be :

Even now, while calm he sleeps,
KATHLEEN o'er him leans and weeps.

IV.

Fearless she had track'd his feet
To this rocky, wild retreat;

And when morning met his view,
Her mild glances met it too.

Ah! your saints have cruel hearts!
Sternly from his bed he starts,
And, with rude, repulsive shock,
Hurls her from the beetling rock.

V.

GLENDALOUGH! thy gloomy wave
Soon was gentle KATHLEEN'S grave;
Soon the saint (yet, ah! too late)
Felt her love and mourn'd her fate.

When he said, "Heaven rest her soul!"

Round the Lake light music stole ;

And her ghost was seen to glide,

Smiling, o'er the fatal tide!

SHE IS FAR FROM THE LAND.

AIR.-Open the Door.

I.

SHE is far from the land where her young hero sleeps,
And lovers are round her, sighing;

But coldly she turns from their gaze, and weeps,
For her heart in his grave is lying!

II.

She sings the wild song of her dear native plains,
Every note which he loved awaking.-

Ah little they think, who delight in her strains,
How the heart of the Minstrel is breaking!

III.

He had lived for his love, for his country he died,
They were all that to life had entwined him,—
Nor soon shall the tears of his country be dried,
Nor long will his love stay behind him.

IV.

Oh! make her a grave where the sun-beams rest,
When they promise a glorious morrow;

They'll shine o'er her sleep like a smile from the West,
From her own loved Island of Sorrow !

NAY, TELL ME NOT.

AIR. Dennis, don't be threatening.

I.

NAY, tell me not, dear! that the goblet drowns
One charm of feeling, one fond regret;
Believe me, a few of thy angry frowns
Are all I've sunk in its bright wave yet.

Ne'er hath a beam

Been lost in the stream

That ever was shed from thy form or soul;
The balm of thy sighs,

The light of thine eyes,

Still float on the surface and hallow my bowl! Then fancy not, dearest! that wine can steal One blissful dream of the heart from me! Like founts that awaken the pilgrim's zeal, The bowl but brightens my love for thee!

II.

They tell us that Love in his fairy bower
Had two blush-roses, of birth divine;

He sprinkled the one with a rainbow's shower,
But bathed the other with mantling wine.

Soon did the buds,

That drank of the floods

Distill'd by the rainbow, decline and fade;

While those which the tide

Of ruby had dyed

All blush'd into beauty, like thee, sweet maid! Then fancy not, dearest! that wine can steal

One blissful dream of the heart from me ; Like founts that awaken the pilgrim's zeal, The bowl but brightens my love for thee.

AVENGING AND BRIGHT.

AIR.-Crooghan a Venee.

I.

AVENGING and bright fall the swift sword of ERIN * On him who the brave sons of USNA betray'd!—

* The words of this song were suggested by the very ancient Irish story, called "Deirdri, or the lamentable fate of the sons of Usnach," which has been translated literally from the Gaelic, by Mr. O'FLANAGAN (see vol. 1. of Transactions of the Gaelic Society of Dublin), and upon which it appears that the "Darthula" of Macpherson is founded. The treachery of Conor, King of Ulster, in putting to death the three sons of Usna, was the cause of a desolating war against Ulster, which