Flinging upon the wasted breast

Sweets born in climes more pure and high,
And pointing, with its lofty crest,

Beyond the starry sky,—

Where a new Jordan's waves shall gem

A statelier Jerusalem!

YSBYTTY CHURCH; NEAR PONT-YMYNACH.

FAR in the wild, beneath yon rocky brow,
Behold the fane; without, a tottering shell,
Within, a cave-like, melancholy cell,
Rude beams above, and ruder seats below,
And crevices that, more than window, show
The poverty and gloom. Yet here to dwell
Disdains not He, whose light ineffable
Shed from the cloud and fire a guardian glow
O'er Israel's camp, or on Moriah's height
(What time the Holy of Holies flamed in gold,
Reared by the gorgeous hand of Solomon)

Between the cherubim abode of old;

Or beamed on Patmos in the vision bright

Of emerald arch around the thunder-uttering throne.

H.

THE ROCK OF THE CANDLE.

A Tale of an Irish Ruin.

BY THE AUTHOR OF HOLLAND-TIDE.'

Soldiers.-Room, ho!-tell Antony, Brutus is ta'en.
Antony. This is not Brutus, friends; but I assure you,
A prize no less in worth. Keep this man safe,
Give him all kindness. I had rather have
Such men my friends than enemies.

JULIUS CAESAR.

REMEMBER ye not, my fair young friend, in one of those excursions which rendered the summer of the past year so sweet in the enjoyment, and so mournful in the recollection-remember ye not my having pointed out to your observation the ruined battlements of Carrigogunniel (the Rock of the Candle), which shoot upward from a craggy hillock on the Shannon side, within view of the ancient city of Limerick? I told you the legend from which the place originally derived its name-a legend, which I thought was distinguished (especially in the closing incident), by a tenderness and delicacy of imagination,

worthy of a Grecian origin. You, too, acknowledged the simple beauty of that incident; and your approval induces me to hope for that of the world.

On a misty evening in spring, when all the west is filled with a hazy sunshine, and the low clouds stoop and cling around the hill tops, there are few nobler spectacles to contemplate, than the ruins of Carrigogunniel Castle. This fine building, which was dismantled by one of William's generals, stands on the very brink of a broken hill, which, toward the water, looks bare and craggy, but on the landward side slopes gently down, under a close and verdant cover of elms and underwood. It is when seen from this side, standing high above the trees, and against the red and broken clouds that are gathered in the west, that the ruin assumes its most imposing aspect.

Such was the look it wore on the evening of an autumn day, when the village beauty, young Minny O'Donnell, put aside the woodbines from her window, and looked out upon the Rock. Her father's cottage was situated close to the foot of the hill, and the battlements seemed to frown downward upon it, with a royal and overtopping haughtiness.

"Hoo! murder, Minny honey, what is that you're doing? Looking out at the Rock at this hour, and the sun just going down behind the turret ?"

"Why not?-Do you remember nothing of the candle?

"Oh, I don't know what to think of it; I am inclined to doubt the story very much; I have been listening to that frightful tale of the Death Light since I was born, and I have never seen it yet."

"You may consider yourself fortunate in that, child, and I advise you not to be too anxious to prove the truth of the story. I was standing by the side of poor young Dillon myself, on the very day of his marriage, when he looked out upon it through the wicket, and was blasted as if by a thunder-stroke. I never will forget the anguish of the dear young bride-it was heart breaking, to see her torn from his side when the life had left him. Poor creature! her shrieks are piercing my ears at this very moment."

That story terrifies me, aunt. Speak of it no more, and I will leave the window. I wonder if Cormac knows this story of the Fatal Candle."

The good old woman smiled knowingly on her pretty niece, as, instead of answering her half query, she asked— Do you not expect him here before sunset ?".

Minny turned hastily round, and seated herself opposite a small mirror, adorned by one of those highly carved frames which were popular at the toilets of our grandmammas. She did so with the double view, of completing her evening toilet, and at the same time screening herself from the inquisitive glances of her sharp old relative, while she continued the conversation.

"He promised to be here before," she replied; "but it is a long way."

hope he will not turn his eyes upon the Rock, if he should be detained after night-fall. I suspect, Minny, that his eyes will be wandering in another direction. I think he will be safe, after all."

"For shame, aunt Norry. You ought to be ashamed of yourself, an old woman of your kind, to speak in this way. Come now, and tell me something funny, while I am dressing my hair, to put the recollection of that frightful adventure of the Candle out of my head. Would not that be a good figure for a Banthee?" she added, shaking out her long bright hair with one hand, in the manner which is often attributed to the warning spirit, and casting at the same time, a not indifferent glance at the mirror above mentioned.

"Partly indeed, but the Banthee (meaning no offence at the same time), is far from being so young or so blooming in the cheeks; and by all accounts, the eyes tell a different story from yours-a story of death, and not of marriage. Merry would the Banthee be, that would be going to get young Mr. Cormac for a husband tomorrow morning early."

"I'll go look at the Rock again, if you continue to talk such nonsense."

Oh, bubboo !-rest easy, darling-and I'll say nothing. Well, what story is it I'm to be telling you?" "Something funny."

"O yeh, my heart is bothered with 'em for stories. I don't know what I'll tell you. Are you 'cute at all?"