The thought was ecstatic! I felt as if Heaven
Had already the wreath of eternity shown;
As if, passion all chasten'd and error forgiven,
My heart had begun to be purely its own!
I look'd to the west, and the beautiful sky

Which morning had clouded was clouded no more: "Oh! thus," I exclaim'd, “ can a heavenly eye Shed light on the soul that was darken'd before!"

GO WHERE GLORY WAITS THEE.

Go where glory waits thee,
But, while fame elates thee,
Oh! still remember me.
When the praise thou meetest
To thine ear is sweetest,
Oh! then remember me.
Other arms may press thee,
Dearer friends caress thee,
All the joys that bless thee
Sweeter far may be;

But when friends are nearest,
And when joys are dearest,
Oh! then remember me.

When at eve thou rovest
By the star thou lovest,

Oh! then remember me.
Think, when home returning,
Bright we've seen it burning-
Oh! then remember me.

Oft as summer closes,
When thine eye reposes
On its lingering roses,

Once so loved by thee,
Think of her who wove them,
Her who made thee love them-
Oh! then remember me.

When, around thee dying,
Autumn leaves are lying,
Oh! then remember me.
And at night, when gazing
On the gay hearth blazing,
Oh! still remember me.
Then should music, stealing
All the soul of feeling,
To thy heart appealing,

Draw one tear from thee;
Then let memory bring thee
Strains I used to sing thee-
Oh! then remember me.

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.

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 tinged 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.

THERE is not in the wide world a valley so sweet
As that vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet;
Oh! the last ray 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;
'Twas not the soft magic of streamlet or hill—
Oh! no: it was something more exquisite still.

'Twas that friends the beloved 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.

WHILE GAZING ON THE MOON'S LIGHT.
WHILE gazing on the moon's light,
A moment from her smile I turn'd
To look at orbs that, more bright,
In lone and distant glory burn'd.
But, too far,

Each proud star,

For me to feel its warming flame;
Much more dear

That mild sphere,

Which near our planet smiling came:
Thus, Mary, be but thou my own,

While brighter eyes unheeded play,
I'll love those moonlight looks alone,
Which bless my home and guide my way'.
The day had sunk in dim showers,
But midnight now, with lustre meek,
Illumined all the pale flowers,

Like hope, that lights a mourner's cheek
I said (while

The moon's smile

Play'd o'er a stream in dimpling bliss), "The moon looks

On many brooks,

The brook can see no moon but this;"
And thus, I thought, our fortunes run,
For many a lover looks to thee,
While oh! I feel there is but one,
One Mary in the world for me.

AFTER THE BATTLE.

NIGHT closed around the conqueror's way,
And lightnings show'd the distant hill,
Where those who lost that dreadful day
Stood, few and faint, but fearless still!

1

The soldier's hope, the patriot's zeal,
For ever dimm'd, for ever cross'd;
Oh! who shall say what heroes feel,
When all but life and honour's lost!
The last sad hour of freedom's dream,
And valour's task, moved slowly by,
While mute they watch'd, till morning's beam
Should rise, and give them light to die!
There is a world where souls are free,
Where tyrants taint not nature's bliss;
If death that world's bright opening be,
Oh! who would live a slave in this?

LOVE'S YOUNG DREAM.

On! the days are gone, when beauty bright
My heart's chain wove!

When my dream of life, from morn till night,
Was love, still love!

New hope may bloom,

And days may come
Of milder, calmer beam,

But there's nothing half so sweet in life
As love's young dream!

Oh! there's nothing half so sweet in life
As love's young dream!

Though the bard to purer fame may soar,
When wild youth's past;

Though he win the wise, who frown'd before,
To smile at last;

He'll never meet
A joy so sweet,

In all his noon of fame,

As when first he sung to woman's ear
His soul-felt flame,

And, at every close, she blush'd to hear
The one loved name!

VOL. II.-A A