HAS SORROW THY YOUNG DAYS SHADED. AIR.-Sly Patrick. I. HAS sorrow thy young days shaded, II. Has Love to that soul, so tender, Has Hope, like the bird in the story,† IV. If thus the sweet hours have fleeted When Sorrow herself look'd bright; If thus the fond hope has cheated, That led thee along so light; * Our Wicklow Gold Mines, to which this verse alludes, deserve, I fear, the character here given of them. + "The bird, having got its prize, settled not far off, with the talisman in his mouth. The prince drew near it, hoping it would drop it; but, as he approached, the bird took wing and settled again," &c.-Arabian Nights,-Story of Kummir al Zummaun and the Princess of China. If thus, too, the cold world wither NO, NOT MORE WELCOME. I. No, not more welcome the fairy numbers This heart long had sleeping lain, Nor thought its cold pulse would ever waken II. Sweet voice of comfort! 'twas like the stealing "Twas whisper'd balm-'twas sunshine spoken!— I'd live years of grief and pain To have my long sleep of sorrow broken By such benign blessed sounds again! WHEN FIRST I MET THEE. I. WHEN first I met thee, warm and young, There shone such truth about thee, And on thy lip such promise hung, But The heart, whose hopes could make it Deserves that thou shouldst break it! II. When every tongue thy follies nam'd, Or found, in even the faults they blam'd, I still was true, when nearer friends Some day, perhaps, thou'lt waken Even now, III. tho' youth its bloom has shed, No lights of age adorn thee; The few, who lov'd thee once, have fled, And they who flatter scorn thee. The smiling there, like light on graves, One taintless tear of mine For all thy guilty splendour! IV. And days may come, thou false one! yet, And gladly died to prove thee all Go-go-'tis vain to curse, "Tis weakness to upbraid thee; Hate cannot wish thee worse Than guilt and shame have made thee. WHILE HISTORY'S MUSE. AIR.-Paddy Whack. I. WHILE History's Muse the memorial was keeping For her's was the story that blotted the leaves. With a pencil of light That illum'd the whole volume, her WELLINGTON's name! II. "Hail, Star of my Isle !" said the Spirit, all sparkling With beams, such as break from her own dewy skies"Thro' ages of sorrow, deserted and darkling, "I've watch'd for some glory like thine to arise. "For tho' Heroes I've number'd, unblest was their lot, "And unhallow'd they sleep in the cross-ways of Fame ;"But oh! there is not "One dishonouring blot "On the wreath that encircles my WELLINGTON's name! III. "Yet still the last crown of thy toils is remaining, "The grandest, the purest, ev'n thou hast yet known; "Tho' proud was thy task, other nations unchaining, Far prouder to heal the deep wounds of thy own. "At the foot of that throne, for whose weal thou has stood, "Go, plead for the land that first cradled thy fame66 And, bright o'er the flood "Of her tears and her blood, "Let the rainbow of Hope be her WELLINGTON's name!" THE TIME I'VE LOST IN WOOING. AIR.-Peas upon a Trencher. I. THE time I've lost in wooing, In watching and pursuing The light, that lies Has been my heart's undoing. Were Woman's looks, And folly's all they've taught me. II. Her smile when Beauty granted, Oft meet in glen that's haunted. Was turn'd away, O! winds could not outrun me. III. And are those follies going? And is my proud heart growing Too cold or wise For brilliant eyes Again to set it glowing? No-vain alas! th' endeavour From bonds so sweet to sever ;- Against a glance Is now as weak as ever! *This alludes to a kind of Irish Fairy, which is to be met with, they say, in the fields, at dusk ;-as long as you keep your eyes upon him, he is fixed and in your power;-but the moment you look away (and he is ingenious in furnishing some inducement) he vanishes. I had thought that this was the sprite which we call the Leprechaun; but a high authority upon such subjects, Lady MORGAN (in a note upon her national and interesting Novel, O'Donnel) has given a very different account of that Goblin.. |