1 These stanzas are founded upon an event of most melancholy importance to Ireland; if, as we are told by our Irish historians, it gave England the first opportunity of profiting by our divisions and subduing us. The following are the circumstances, as related by O'Halloran :-" The king of Leinster had long conceived a violent affection for Dearbhorgil, daughter to the king of Meath, and though she had been for some time married to O'Ruark, prince of Breffni, yet it could not restrain his passion. They carried on a private correspondence, and she informed him that O'Ruark intended soon to go on a pilgrimage (an act of piety frequent in But onward!- the green banner rearing, OH! HAD WE SOME BRIGHT LITTLE ISLE OF OUR OWN. OH! had we some bright little isle of our own, In a blue summer ocean, far off and alone, Where a leaf never dies in the still blooming bowen And the bee banquets on through a whole year o flowers; Where the sun loves to pause With so fond a delay, A thin veil o'er the day; Where simply to feel that we breathe, that we live Is worth the best joy that life elsewhere can give. There, with souls ever ardent and pure as the clime We should love, as they lov'd in the first golder time; The glow of the sunshine, the balm of the air, Would steal to our hearts, and make all summe there. With affection as free From decline as the bowers, Our life should resemble a long day of light, FAREWELL!-BUT WHENEVER YOU WELCOME THE HOUR. FAREWELL - but whenever you welcome the hour That awakens the night-song of mirth in your bower, Then think of the friend who once welcom'd it too pain, those days), and conjured him to embrace that opportunity of conveying her from a husband she detested to a lover she adored Mac Murchad too punctually obeyed the summons, and had the lady conveyed to his capital of Ferns."-The monarch Roderick espoused the cause of O'Ruark, while Mac Murchad fled w England, and obtained the assistance of Henry II. "Such," adds Giraldus Cambrensis (as I find him in an c'è translation)," is the variable and fickle nature of woman, by whome all mischief in the world (for the most part) do happen and come, is may appear by Marcus Antonius, and by the destruction of Troy." Sweet voice of comfort! 'twas like the stealing Twas whisper'd balm-'twas sunshine spoken!- To have my long sleep of sorrow broken And gladly died to prove thee all "Tis weakness to upbraid thee; Hate cannot wish thee worse Than guilt and shame have made thee. WHEN FIRST I MET THEE. WHEN first I met thee, warm and young, I saw thee change, yet still relied, The heart, whose hopes could make it Deserves that thou shouldst break it. When every tongue thy follies nam'd, I fled the unwelcome story; Or found, in even the faults they blam'd, I still was true, when nearer friends Some day, perhaps, thou'lt waken Even now, though youth its bloom has shed, The smiling there, like light on graves, For all thy guilty splendour! And days may come, thou false one! yet, On her who, in thy fortune's fall, |