I said (while The moon's smile Play'd o'er a stream, in dimpling bliss), "The moon looks "On many brooks, "The brook can see no moon but this;* And thus, I thought, our fortunes run, ILL OMENS. AIR.-Kitty of Coleraine; or, Paddy's Resource. I. WHEN daylight was yet sleeping under the billow, And stars in the heavens still lingering shone, Young KITTY, all blushing, rose up from her pillow, The last time she e'er was to press it alone. * This image was suggested by the following thought, which occurs somewhere in Sir William Jones's works: "The moon looks upon many night-flowers, the night-flower sees but one moon." For the youth, whom she treasured her heart and her soul in, Had promised to link the last tie before noon; And, when once the young heart of a maiden is stolen, The maiden herself will steal after it soon! II. As she look'd in the glass, which a woman neʼer misses, She brush'd him—he fell, alas! never to rise— "Ah! such," said the girl," is the pride of our faces, "For which the soul's innocence too often dies!" III. While she stole through the garden, where heart's-ease was growing, She cull'd some, and kiss'd off its night-fallen dew; And a rose, further on, look'd so tempting and glowing, That, spite of her haste, she must gather it too; But, while o'er the roses too carelessly leaning, Her zone flew in two, and the heart's-ease was lost "Ah! this means," said the girl (and she sigh'd at its meaning), "That love is scarce worth the repose it will cost! BEFORE THE BATTLE. AIR.-The Fairy Queen. I. By the hope, within us springing, By that sun, whose light is bringing No charm for him, who lives not free! Sinks a hero to his grave, 'Midst the dew-fall of a nation's tears! Happy is he, o'er whose decline The smiles of home may soothing shine, And light him down the steep of years :But oh! how grand they sink to rest, Who close their eyes on Victory's breast! II. O'er his watch-fire's fading embers A chain, like that we broke from then. Ere the golden evening falls, May we pledge that horn in triumph round!* Nor waken even at victory's sound : But oh! how bless'd that hero's sleep, O'er whom a wondering world shall weep! * "The Irish Corna was not entirely devoted to martial purposes. In the heroic ages our ancestors quaffed Meadh out of them, as the Danish hunters do their beverage at this day." WALKER. AFTER THE BATTLE. AIR. Thy Fair Bosom. I. NIGHT closed around the conqueror's way, The soldier's hope, the patriot's zeal, Oh! who shall say what heroes feel, II. The last sad hour of freedom's dream, |