No. IX. SWEET INNISFALLEN. AIR-The Captivating Youth. SWEET Innisfallen, fare thee well, May calm and sunshine long be thine! How fair thou art let others tell, While but to feel how fair is mine! Sweet Innisfallen, fare thee well, And long may light around thee smile, As soft as on that evening fell When first I saw thy fairy isle! Thou wert too lovely then for one Who had to turn to paths of care— Who had through vulgar crowds to run, And leave thee bright and silent there. No more along thy shores to come, But on the world's dim ocean tost, Dream of thee sometimes as a home Of sunshine he had seen and lost! Far better in thy weeping hours To part from thee as I do now, When mist is o'er thy blooming bowers, Like Sorrow's veil on Beauty's brow. For, though unrivall'd still thy grace, Thou dost not look, as then, too blest, But, in thy shadows, seem'st a place Where weary man might hope to rest Might hope to rest, and find in thee Weeping or smiling, lovely isle! And still the lovelier for thy tearsFor though but rare thy sunny smile, 'T is heaven's own glance, when it appears. Like feeling hearts, whose joys are few, 'T WAS ONE OF THOSE DREAMS. AIR-The Song of the Woods. 'T WAS one of those dreams that by music are brought, It seem'd as if every sweet note that died here Oh forgive if, while listening to music, whose breath <«Even so, though thy memory should now die away, FAIREST! PUT ON AWHILE. FAIREST! put on awhile These pinions of light I bring thee, And o'er thy own green isle In fancy let me wing thee. Never did Ariel's plume, At golden sunset, hover O'er such scenes of bloom As I shall waft thee over. Fields, where the Spring delays, And fearlessly meets the ardour, That Love hath just been crowning. Islets so freshly fair That never hath bird come nigh them, But, from his course through air, Hath been won downward by themTypes, sweet maid, of thee, Whose look, whose blush inviting, Never did Love yet see From heaven, without alighting. Lakes where the pearl lies hid,2 And caves where the diamond's sleeping, Bright as the gems that lid Of thine lets fall in weeping. Glens,3 where Ocean comes, To 'scape the wild wind's rancour, And harbours, worthiest homes Where Freedom's sails could anchor. Then if, while scenes so grand, So beautiful, shine before thee, In describing the Skeligs (islands of the Barony of Forth) Dr Kesting says, there is a certain attractive virtue in the soil, which draw down all the birds that attempt to fly over it, and obliges them to light upon the rock. 2. Nennius, a British writer of the 9th century, mentions the abundance of pearls in Ireland. Their princes, he says, hung them behind their cars, and this we find confirmed by 1 a present made ... 19f, by Gilbert, Bishop of Limerick, to Anselm, Archbishop of Canterbury, of a considerable quantity of Irish pearls.--O HALLORAN * Gleng riff. Pride for thy own dear land Should haply be stealing o'er thee, Oh, let grief come first, O'er pride itself victorious To think how man hath curst What Heaven had made so glorious! QUICK! WE HAVE BUT A SECOND. AIR-Paddy Snap. QUICK! we have but a second, Fill round the cup, while you may, Grasp the pleasure that 's flying, Then quick! we have but a second, See the glass, how it flushes, And half meets thine, and blushes If ever thou seest the day, Then, quick! we have but a second, AND DOTH NOT A MEETING LIKE THIS. AIR-Unknown. AND doth not a meeting like this make amends We'll wear the gay tinge of youth's roses again. And thus, as in Memory's bark we shall glide To visit the scenes of our boyhood anewThough oft we may see, looking down on the tide, The wreck of full many a hope shining throughYet still, as in fancy we point to the flowers, That once made a garden of all the gay shore, Jours charmans, quand je songe à vos heureux instans, The same thought has been happily expressed by my friend, Mr Washington Irving, in his Bracebridge Hall, vol. i. p. 213. The pleasure which I feel in calling this gentleman my friend, is enhanced by the reflexion that he is too good an American to have admitted me so readily to such a distinction, if he had not known that my feelings towards the great and free country that gave him birth have long been such as every real lover of the liberty and happiness of the human race must entertain. «Oh thou, who lovest the shadow,» cried, A gentle voice, whispering by his side, Now turn and see,»-here the youth's delight Seal'd the rosy lips of the Mountain Sprite. « Of all the Spirits of land and sea,» Exclaim'd he then, there is none like thee; And oft, oh oft, may thy shape alight In this lonely arbour, sweet Mountain Sprite.>> AS VANQUISH'D ERIN. As vanquish'd Erin wept beside The Boyne's ill-fated river, She saw where Discord, in the tide, Had dropp'd his loaded quiver. « Lie hid,» she cried, «ye venom'd darts, Lie hid for oh! the stain of hearts That bled for me is on you.»> But vain her wish, her weeping vain- And dives into that water: And brings triumphant, from beneath, His shafts of desolation, And sends them, wing'd with worse than death, Throughout her maddening nation. Alas for her who sits and mourns, «When will this end? ye Powers of Good!» She weeping asks for ever; But only hears, from out that flood, DESMOND'S SONG.' AIR-Unknown. By the Feal's wave benighted, Some voice whisper'd o'er me, If I loved, I was lost. These verses are meant to allude to that ancient haunt of superstition, called Patrick's Purgatory. In the midst of these glo my Thomas, the heir of the Desmond family, had accidentally been ions of Donegall (says Dr Campbell) lay a lake, which was to be so engaged in the chace, that he was benighted near Trale, and obliged to take shelter at the Abbey of 1 cal, in the house of one of his dependents, called Mac Cormac. Catherine, a beautiful daughter of hos best, instantly inspired the Farl with a violent passion, which he could not subdue. He married her, and by this inferior alliance alienated bis followers, whose brutal pride regarded this indulgence of bis love as an unpardonable degradation of his family,-LELAND, come the mystic theatre of this fabled and intermediate state. It was, as the same writer tells us, one of the most dismal and dreary spots in the North, almost inaccessible, through deep gleus and Taped mountains, frightful with impending rocks, and the bollow murmurs of the western winds in dark caverns, peopled only with such fantasty beings as the mind, however gay, is from strange associativa wont to appropriate to such gloomy scenes. - Strictures on the Erele soustical and Literary History of Ireland. There, there, far from thee, Deceitful world, my home should be- The dry leaves quivering o'er my head, My soul from Life's deluding scene, As they who to their couch at night Like freezing founts, where all that 's thrown SHE SUNG OF LOVE. SHE sung of love-while o'er her lyre The soul within that trembling shell. But soon the West no longer burn'd, Each rosy ray from heaven withdrew; And, when to gaze again I turn'd, The minstrel's form seem'd fading too. As if her light and heaven's were one, The glory all had left that frame; And from her glimmering lips the tone, As from a parting spirit, came.' 'The thought here was suggested by some beautiful lines in Mr Rogers's Poem of Human Life, beginning: Who ever loved, but had the thought That fading image to my heart- Oh light of youth's resplendent day! SING-SING-MUSIC WAS GIVEN. AIR-The Humours of Ballamaguiry, or, the Old SING-sing-Music was given To brighten the gay, and kindle the loving; By harmony's laws alone are kept moving. To brighten the gay, and kindle the loving; By harmony's laws alone are kept moving. When Love, rock'd by his mother, Till faint from his lips a soft melody broke, Now in the glimmering, dying light she grows I would quote the entire passage, but that I fear to put my own hum- National Airs. ADVERTISEMENT. through the world. To supply this other half, by uniting with congenial words the many fugitive melodies which have hitherto had none, or only such as are unintelli and ambition of the present work. Neither is it our intention to confine ourselves to what are strictly called National Melodies, but, wherever we meet with any wandering and beautiful air, to which poetry has not yet assigned a worthy home, we shall venture to claim it as an estray swan, and enrich our humble Hippocrene with its song. Ir is Cicero, I believe, who says « natura ad modos du-gible to the generality of their hearers, is the object cimur;» and the abundance of wild indigenous airs which almost every country, except Eagland possesses, sufficiently proves the truth of his assertion. The lovers of this simple but interesting kind of music are here presented with the first number of a collection, which I trust their contributions will enable us to continue. A pretty air without words resembles one of those half creatures of Plato, which are described as wandering, in search of the remainder of themselves, T. M. NATIONAL AIRS. No. I. A TEMPLE TO FRIENDSHIP. Spanish Air. «A TEMPLE to Friendship,» said Laura, enchanted, « Oh! never,» she cried, « could I think of enshrining An image whose looks are so joyless and dim! But you little god upon roses reclining, We'll make, if you please, Sir, a Friendship of him.» So the bargain was struck; with the little god laden She joyfully flew to her shrine in the grove : « Farewell,» said the sculptor, "you 're not the first maiden Who came but for Friendship, and took away Love.»> FLOW ON, THOU SHINING RIVER. Portuguese Air. FLow on, thou shining river ; But, ere thou reach the sea, But if, in wandering thither, Thou find'st she mocks my prayer, Then leave those wreaths to wither Upon the cold bank there. And tell her thus, when youth is o'er, Her lone and loveless charms shall be Thrown by upon life's weedy shore, Like those sweet flowers from thee. ALL THAT'S BRIGHT MUST FADE. ALL that 's bright must fade,- All that's sweet was made But to be lost when sweetest. Stirs that shine and fall; The flower that drops in springing These, alas! are types of all To which our hearts are clinging. The thought is taken from a song by Le Prieur, called, « La Statue de l'Amitie. All that's bright must fade, The brightest still the fleetest; All that 's sweet was made But to be lost when sweetest! Who would seek or prize Delights that end in aching? Who would trust to ties That every hour are breaking? Better far to be In utter darkness lying, Than be blest with light and see That light for ever flying. All that 's bright must fade, SO WARMLY WE MET. So warmly we met and so fondly we parted, That which was the sweeter even I could not tellThat first look of welcome her sunny eyes darted, Or that tear of passion which bless'd our farewell. To meet was a heaven, and to part thus another,Our joy and our sorrow seem'd rivals in bliss; Oh! Cupid's two eyes are not liker each other In smiles and in tears, than that moment to this. The first was like day-break-new, sudden, delicious, morrow Would bring back the blest hour of meeting again. THOSE EVENING BELLS. THOSE evening bells! those evening bells! Those joyous hours are past away! SHOULD THOSE FOND HOPES. SHOULD those fond hopes e'er forsake thee, The metre of the words is here necessarily sacrificed to the air. |