To the gloom of some desert or cold rocky shore, Where the eye of the stranger can haunt us no more, I will fly with my Coulin, and think the rough wind Less rude than the foes we leave frowning behind.

And I'll gaze on thy gold hair as graceful it wreathes,
And hang o'er thy soft harp, as wildly it breathes;
Nor dread that the cold-hearted Saxon will tear
One chord from that harp, or one lock from that hair.6

RICH AND RARE WERE THE GEMS SHE
WORE.7

RICH and rare were the gems she wore,
And a bright gold ring on her wand she bore ;

But oh her beauty was far beyond

Her sparkling gems, or snow-white wand.

"Lady dost thou not fear to stray

"So lone and lovely through this bleak way?
"Are Erin's sons so good or so cold,
"As not to be tempted by woman or gold?"

"Sir Knight! I feel not the least alarm,
"No son of Erin will offer me harm :-

"For, though they love woman and golden store,
"Sir Knight! they love honour and virtue more."

On she went, and her maiden smile

In safety lighted her round the green isle ;
And blest for ever is she who relied

Upon Erin's honour, and Erin's pride.

AS A BEAM O'ER THE FACE OF THE WATERS MAY GLOW.

As a beam o'er the face of the waters may glow, While the tide runs in darkness and coldness below, So the cheek may be ting'd with a warm sunny smile, Though the cold heart to ruin runs darkly the while.

One fatal remembrance, one sorrow that throws
Its bleak shade alike o'er our joys and our woes,
To which life nothing darker or brighter can bring,
For which joy has no balm and affliction no sting-

Oh this thought in the midst of enjoyment will stay,
Like a dead leafless branch in the summer's bright ray,
The beams of the warm sun play round it in vain,
It may smile in his light, but it blooms not again.

THE MEETING OF THE WATERS.8

THERE is not in the wide world a valley so sweet
As that vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet; 9
Oh the last rays of feeling and life must depart,
Ere the bloom of that valley shall fade from my heart.

Yet it was not that Nature had shed o'er the scene
Her purest of crystal and brightest of green;
"T was not her soft magic of streamlet or hill,
Oh! no-it was something more exquisite still.

"T was that friends, the belov'd of my bosom, were near, Who made every dear scene of enchantment more dear, And who felt how the best charms of nature improve, When we see them reflected from looks that we love.

Sweet vale of Avoca! how calm could I rest

In thy bosom of shade, with the friends I love best, Where the storms that we feel in this cold world should

cease,

And our hearts, like thy waters, be mingled in peace.

ST. SENANUS AND THE LADY.

ST. SENANUS.10

"OH! haste and leave this sacred isle,
"Unholy bark, ere morning smile;
"For on thy deck, though dark it be,
"A female form I see ;

"And I have sworn this sainted sod
"Shall ne'er by woman's feet be trod."

THE LADY.

"Oh! Father, send not hence my bark,
"Through wintry winds and billows dark:
"I come with humble heart to share
"Thy morn and evening prayer ;
"Nor mine the feet, oh! holy Saint,
"The brightness of thy sod to taint."

The Lady's prayer Senanus spurn'd;
The winds blew fresh, the bark return'd;
But legends hint, that had the maid

Till morning's light delay'd,
And given the saint one rosy smile,
She ne'er had left his lonely isle.

HOW DEAR TO ME THE HOUR.
How dear to me the hour when daylight dies,
And sunbeams melt along the silent sea,
For then sweet dreams of other days arise,
And memory breathes her vesper sigh to thee.

And, as I watch the line of light, that plays
Along the smooth wave tow'rd the burning west,
I long to tread that golden path of rays,

And think 't would lead to some bright isle of rest.

TAKE BACK THE VIRGIN PAGE.

WRITTEN ON RETURNING A BLANK BOOK.
TAKE back the virgin page,

White and unwritten still;
Some hand, more calm and sage,
The leaf must fill.

Thoughts come as pure as light,

Pure as even you require:
But oh each word I write
Love turns to fire.

Yet let me keep the book:

Oft shall my heart renew,
When on its leaves I look,
Dear thoughts of you.
Like you, 't is fair and bright;
Like you, too bright and fair

To let wild passion write
One wrong wish there.

Haply, when from those eyes
Far, far away I roam,
Should calmer thoughts arise
Tow'rds you and home;

Fancy may trace some line
Worthy those eyes to meet,
Thoughts that not burn, but shine,
Pure, calm, and sweet.

And as, o'er ocean far,

Seamen their records keep,
Led by some hidden star

Through the cold deep;
So may the words I write

Tell thro' what storms I stray

You still the unseen light

Guiding my way.

THE LEGACY.

WHEN in death I shall calm recline,
O bear my heart to my mistress dear;
Tell her it liv'd upon smiles and wine
Of the brightest hue, while it linger'd here.
Bid her not shed one tear of sorrow,

To sully a heart so brilliant and light;
But balmy drops of the red grape borrow,
To bathe the relic from morn till night.

When the light of my song is o'er,

Then take my harp to your ancient hall; Hang it up at that friendly door,

Where weary travellers love to call.11 Then if some bard, who roams forsaken, Revive its soft note in passing along, Oh let one thought of its master waken Your warmest smile for the child of song.

Keep this cup, which is now o'erflowing,
To grace your revel when I'm at rest;
Never, oh! never its balm bestowing
On lips that beauty hath seldom blest.