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When we see the first charm of our youth pass

us by, Like a leaf on the stream, that will never return; When our cup, which had sparkled with pleasure

so high, Now tastes of the other, the dark-flowing urn; Then, then is the moment affection can sway

With a depth and a tenderness joy never knew; Love, nursed among pleasures, is faithless as they, But the Love, born of Sorrow, like Sorrow is


In climes full of sunshine, though splendid their ".. dyes,

Yet faint is the odour the flow'rs shed about; 'Tis the clouds and the mists of our own weeping

skies, That call their full spirit of fragrancy out. So the wild glow of passion may kindle from

mirth, But 'tis only in grief true affection appears; To the magic of smiles it may first owe its birth, But the soul of its sweetness is drawn out by



Air-Limerick's Lamentation.

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When cold in the earth lies the friend thou

• hast loved,

Be his faults and his follies forgot by thee then; Or, if from their slumber the veil be removed,

Weep o'er them in silence and close it again.
And, oh! if ’tis pain to remember how far
From the path-ways of light he was tempted

to roam,
Be it bliss to remember that thou wert the star

That arose on his darkness, and guided him . home. . .

"Our right to this fine air (the “ Lochaber” of the Scotch) will, I fear, be disputed; but, as it has been long connected with Irish words, and is confidently claimed for us by Mr. Bunting and others, I thought I should not be authorized in leaving it out of this collection.

From thee and thy innocent beauty first came The revealings, that taught him true Love to

adore, To feel the bright presence, and turn him with

shame From the idols he darkly had knelt to before. O'er the waves of a life, long benighted and wild, Thou cam’st like a soft golden calm o'er the

sea; And, if happiness purely and glowingly smiled

On his ev’ning horizon, the light was from thee.

And though sometimes the shade of past folly

would rise, And though falsehood again would allure him

to stray, He but turn'd to the glory that dwelt in those eyes,

And the folly, the falsehood soon vanish'd away. As the Priests of the Sun when their altar grew

dim, At the day-beam alone could its lustre repair, So, if virtue a moment grew languid in him, He but flew to that smile, and rekindled it



Air-Castle Tirowen.

Remember thee! yes, while there's life in this

heart, It shall never forget thee, all lorn as thou art; More dear in thy sorrow, thy gloom and thy

showers, Than the rest of the world in their sunniest hours.

Wert thou all that I wish thee, great, glorious,

and free, First flower of the earth, and first gem of the sea,, I might hail thee with prouder, with happier brow, But, oh! could I love thee more deeply than


No, thy chains as they torture thy blood as it

runs, But make thee more painfully dear to thy sonsWhose hearts, like the young of the desert-bird's

nest, Drink love in each life-drop that flows from thy


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