Erin, thy silent tear never shall cease,

Erin, thy languid smile ne'er shall increase,
Till, like the rainbow's light,

Thy various tints unite,
And form in heaven's sight
One arch of peace!

OH! BREATHE NOT HIS NAME.

OH! breathe not his name, let it sleep in the shade, Where cold and unhonour'd his relics are laid: Sad, silent, and dark, be the tears that we shed, As the night-dew that falls on the grass o'er his head.

But the night-dew that falls, though in silence it weeps,

Shall brighten with verdure the grave where he sleeps;

And the tear that we shed, though in secret it rolls, Shall long keep his memory green in our souls.

WHEN HE, WHO ADORES THEE.

WHEN he, who adores thee, has left but the name
Of his fault and his sorrows behind,
Oh! say wilt thou weep, when they darken the fame
Of a life that for thee was resign'd?
Yes, weep, and however my foes may condemn,
Thy tears shall efface their decree;

For Heaven can witness, though guilty to them,
I have been but too faithful to thee.

With thee were the dreams of my earliest love;
Every thought of my reason was thine;
In my last humble prayer to the Spirit above,
Thy name shall be mingled with mine.

Oh! blest are the lovers and friends who shall live
The days of thy glory to see;

But the next dearest blessing that Heaven can give Is the pride of thus dying for thee.

So sleeps the pride of former days,

So glory's thrill is o'er,

And hearts, that once beat high for praise, Now feel that pulse no more.

No more to chiefs and ladies bright
The harp of Tara swells;

The chord alone, that breaks at night,
Its tale of ruin tells.

Thus Freedom now so seldom wakes, The only throb she gives,

Is when some heart indignant breaks, To show that still she lives.

FLY NOT YET.

FLY not yet, 'tis just the hour,
When pleasure, like the midnight flower
That scorns the eye of vulgar light,
Begins to bloom for sons of night,

And maids who love the moon. "Twas but to bless these hours of shade That beauty and the moon were made; "Tis then their soft attractions glowing Set the tides and goblets flowing.

Oh! stay,-Oh! stay,-
Joy so seldom weaves a chain
Like this to-night, that oh! 'tis pain
To break its links so soon.

Fly not yet, the fount that play'd
In times of old through Ammon's shade,'
Though icy cold by day it ran,
Yet still, like souls of mirth, began

To burn when night was near.
And thus, should woman's heart and looks
At noon be cold as winter brooks,
Nor kindle till the night, returning,
Brings their genial hour for burning.

Oh! stay,-Oh! stay,-
When did morning ever break,
And find such beaming eyes awake
As those that sparkle here?

Norexpect that the heart-beaming smile of to-night Will return with to-morrow to brighten my brow.

No-life is a waste of wearisome hours,

Which seldom the rose of enjoyment adorns; And the heart that is soonest awake to the flowers, Is always the first to be touch'd by the thorns. But send round the bowl, and be happy awhileMay we never meet worse, in our pilgrimage here,

Than the tear that enjoyment may gild with a smile,

And the smile that compassion can turn to a

In the twenty-eighth year of the reign of Henry VIII. an Art was made respecting the habits, and dress in general, of the Ish, whereby all persons were restrained from being shorn or

above the ears, or from wearing Glibbes, or Coulins (long on their heads, or hair on their upper lip, called Crommeal. soccasion a song was written by one of our bards, in which Ish virgin is made to give the preference to her dear Coulin youth with the flowing locks) to all strangers (by which English were meant), or those who wore their habits. Of this the air alone has reached us, and is universally admired."Historical Memoirs of Irish Bards, p. 134. Mr. Walker also, that, about the same period, there were some harsh cres taken against the Irish Minstrels.

2 This ballad is founded upon the following anecdote :-"The people were inspired with such a spirit of honour, virtue, and religion, by the great example of Brien, and by his excellent administration, that, as a proof of it, we are informed that a young lady of great beauty, adorned with jewels and a costly dress, undertook a journey alone, from one end of the kingdom to the other, with a wand only in her hand, at the top of which was a ring of exceeding great value; and such an impression had the laws and government of this monarch made on the minds of all the people, that no attempt was made upon her honour, nor was she robbed of her clothes or jewels."- Warner's History of Ireland, vol. i. book x.

Which warns the touch, while winning the sense,
Nor charms us least when it most repels.
Then remember, wherever your goblet is crown'd,
Thro' this world, whether eastward or westward

you roam,

When a cup to the smile of dear woman goes round, Oh! remember the smile that adorns her at home.

In France, when the heart of a woman sets sail, On the ocean of wedlock its fortune to try, Love seldom goes far in a vessel so frail,

But just pilots her off, and then bids her good-bye. While the daughters of Erin keep the boy,

Ever smiling beside his faithful oar, Through billows of woe, and beams of joy,

The same as he look'd when he left the shore. Then remember, wherever your goblet is crown'd, Thro' this world, whether eastward or westward

you roam,

When a cup to the smile of dear woman goes round, Oh! remember the smile that adorns her at home.

EVELEEN'S BOWER.

OH! weep for the hour,

When to Eveleen's bower

The Lord of the Valley with false vows came;
The moon hid her light

From the heavens that night,

And wept behind the clouds o'er the maiden's shame.

The clouds pass'd soon

From the chaste cold moon,

And heaven smiled again with her vestal flame; But none will see the day,

When the clouds shall pass away, Which that dark hour left upon Eveleen's fame.

The white snow lay

On the narrow path-way,

When the Lord of the Valley crost over the moor;

"This brought on an encounter between Malachi (the Monarch of Ireland in the tenth century) and the Danes, in which Malachi defeated two of their champions, whom he encountered successively, hand to hand, taking a collar of gold from the neck of one, and carrying off the sword of the other, as trophies of his victory." -Warner's History of Ireland, vol. i. book ix.

2 Military orders of knights were very early established in Ireland; long before the birth of Christ we find an hereditary order of Chivalry in Ulster, called Curaidhe na Craiobhe ruadh, or the Knights of the Red Branch, from their chief seat in Emania, adjoining to the palace of the Ulster kings, called Teagh na Craiobhe ruadh, or the Academy of the Red Branch; and contiguous to which was a large hospital, founded for the sick knights and soldiers, called Bronbhearg, or the House of the Sorrowful Soldier." -O'Halloran's Introduction, &c., part i. chap. 5.

3 It was an old tradition, in the time of Giraldus, that Lough Neagh had been originally a fountain, by whose sudden overflowing the country was inundated, and a whole region, like the Atlantis

4 To make this story intelligible in a song would require a mod greater number of verses than any one is authorised to int upon an audience at once; the reader must therefore be contest i learn, in a note, that Fionnuala, the daughter of Lir, was, by son a supernatural power, transformed into a swan, and condemned i wander, for many hundred years, over certain lakes and rivers in Ireland, till the coming of Christianity, when the first sound of the mass-bell was to be the signal of her release.-I found this fancite fiction among some manuscript translations from the Irish, whic were begun under the direction of that enlightened friend o Ireland, the late Countess of Moira.