THEE, THEE, ONLY THEE.

AIR.-The Market-Stake.

I.

THE dawning of morn, the daylight's sinking,
The night's long hours still find me thinking
Of thee, thee, only thee.

When friends are met, and goblets crowh'd,
And smiles are near that once enchanted,
Unreach'd by all that sunshine round,
My soul, like some dark spot, is haunted
By thee, thee, only thee.

II.

Whatever in fame's high path could waken My spirit once, is now forsaken

For thee, thee, only thee.

Like shores, by which some headlong bark
To the ocean hurries-resting never-
Life's scenes go by me, bright or dark,
I know not, heed not, hastening ever
To thee, thee, only thee.

III.

I have not a joy but of thy bringing,

And pain itself seems sweet, when springing
From thee, thee, only thee.

Like spells that nought on earth can break,
Till lips that know the charm have spoken,
This heart, howe'er the world may wake
Its grief, its scorn, can but be broken
By thee, thee, only thee.

SHALL THE HARP THEN BE SILENT?

AIR.-Macfarlane's Lamentation.

I.

SHALL the Harp then be silent, when he, who first gave To our country a name, is withdrawn from all eyes? Shall a Minstrel of Erin stand mute by the grave, Where the first, where the last of her Patriots lies?

II.

No-faint though the death-song may fall from his lips, Though his Harp, like his soul, may with shadows be

cross'd,

Yet, yet shall it sound, 'mid a nation's eclipse,

And proclaim to the world what a star hath been lost!*
III.

What a union of all the affections and powers,
By which life is exalted, embellish'd, refined,
Was embraced in that spirit—whose centre was ours,
While its mighty circumference circled mankind.

IV.

Oh, who that loves Erin-or who that can see,
Through the waste of her annals, that epoch sublime-
Like a pyramid raised in the desert-where he
And his glory stand out to the eyes of all time !—

V.

That one lucid interval, snatch'd from the gloom
And the madness of ages, when, fill'd with his soul,
A Nation o'erleap'd the dark bounds of her doom,
And, for one sacred instant, touch'd Liberty's goal!

VI.

Who, that ever hath heard him-hath drank at the

source

Of that wonderful eloquence, all Erin's own,

It is only these two first verses, that are either fitted or intended to be sung.

In whose high-thoughted daring, the fire, and the force, And the yet untamed spring of her spirit are shown.

VII.

An eloquence, rich-wheresoever its wave

Wander'd free and triumphant-with thoughts that shone through

As clear as the brook's "stone of lustre," and gave,
With the flash of the gem, its solidity too.

VIII.

Who, that ever approach'd him, when, free from the crowd,

In a home full of love, he delighted to tread

'Mong the trees which a nation had given, and which bow'd,

As if each brought a new civic crown for his head—

IX.

That home, where-like him who, as fable hath told, * Put the rays from his brow, that his child might

come near

Every glory forgot, the most wise of the old

Became all that the simplest and youngest hold dear.

* Apollo, in his interview with Phaeton, as described by Ovid:- Deposuit radios propriùsque accedere jussit."

X.

Is there one who has thus, through his orbit of life, But at distance observed him-through glory, through blame,

In the calm of retreat, in the grandeur of strife Whether shining or clouded, still high and the same.

XI.

Such a union of all that enriches life's hour,

Of the sweetness we love and the greatness we praise, As that type of simplicity blended with power, A child with a thunderbolt only portrays.—

XII.

Oh no-not a heart, that e'er knew him, but mourns, Deep, deep, o'er the grave, where such glory is

shrined

O'er a monument Fame will preserve, 'mong the urns

Of the wisest, the bravest, the best of mankind!