III. Oh! this thought in the midst of enjoyment will stay, THE MEETING OF THE WATERS.* I. THERE is not in the wide world a valley so sweet II. Yet, it was not that nature had shed o'er the scene III. "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. IV. 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! "The Meeting of the Waters" forms a part of that beautiful scenery which lies between Rathdrum and Arklow, in the county of Wicklow, and these lines were suggested by a visit to this romantic spot, in the summer of the year 1807. + The rivers Avon and Avoca. IRISE MELODIES. No. II. ST. SENANUS AND THE LADY. ST. SENANUS.* "OH! haste and leave this sacred isle, "For on the deck, though dark it be. "And I have sworn this sainted sod "Oh! Father, send not hence my bark * In a metrical life of St. Senanus, which is taken from an old Kilkenny MS. and may be found amongt the Acta Sanctorum Hiberniæ, we are told of his flight to the Island of Scattery, and his resolution not to admit any woman of the party; he refused to receive even a sister saint, St. Cannera, whom an angel had taken to the island, for the express purpose of introducing her to him. The following was the ungracious answer of Senanus, according to his poetical biographer: Cui Præsul, quid fœminis. Commune est cum monachis ? Admittemus in insulam. See the Acta Sanct. Hib. page 610. According to Dr. Ledwich, St. Senanus was no less a personage than the river Shannon; but O'Connor, and other Antiquarians, deny this metamorphose indignantly. The Lady's prayer SENANUS spurn'd; And given the saint one rosy smile, She ne'er had left his lonely isle. HOW DEAR TO ME THE HOUR. AIR. The Twisting of the Rope. I. How dear to me the hour when daylight dies, For then sweet dreams of other days arise, And, as I watch the line of light that plays Along the smooth wave toward the burning west, I long to tread that golden path of rays, And think 'twould lead to some bright isle of rest! TAKE BACK THE VIRGIN PAGE. AIR.-Dermott. I. TAKE back the virgin page, White and unwritten still; Thoughts come as pure as light, II. Yet let me keep the book; Oft shall my heart renew, Like you, 'tis fair and bright; Haply, when from those eyes Worthy those eyes to meet; IV. And, as the records are, Which wandering seamen keep, Led by their hidden star Through the cold deep So may the words I write Tell through what storms I stray, Guiding my way! THE LEGACY. AIR.-Unknown. WHEN in death I shall calm recline, O bear my heart to my mistress dear; To sulley a heart so brilliant and light; But balmy drops of the red grape borrow, II. When the light of my song is o'er, Then take my harp to your ancient hall; Where weary travellers love to call.* * "In every house was one or two harps, free to all travel lers, who were the more caressed the more they excelled i music."-O'HALLORAN. Then if some bard, who roams forsaken, Keep this cup, which is now o'erflowing, On lips that beauty hath seldom blest! To her he adores shall bathe its brim, HOW OFT HAS THE BENSHEE CRIED. I. How oft has the Benshee cried! Bright links that Glory wove, Sweet bonds, entwined by Love! II. We're fallen upon gloomy days,* Star after star decays, Every bright name, that shed Dark falls the tear of him who mourneth But brightly flows the tear * I have endeavoured here, without losing that Irish character which it is my object to preserve throughout this work, to allude to the sad and ominous fatality by which England has been deprived of so many great and good men at a moment when she most requires all the aids of talent and integrity. |