VII.

Another sheds upon his country's page

The light and lustre of his brilliant mind; Now charming youth, and now instructing age, Awakening hope, and loos'ning bonds that bind His country's energies that slept behind

The clouds of passion, prejudice, and crime. Oh! it was friends and youthful days that twined Themselves around his heart, despite of time, And flashed from out that soul thoughts brilliant, deep, sublime!

VIII.

And some are dead, and all are far away!
Still memory shrines them in her inmost soul;
There, fresh and bright, they suffer no decay,
But changeless, seem as when around the bowl
We met, ere time had taught us to control

One ardent wish, or chill the glowing mind;
Yes; constant as the needle to the pole,

Our young affections turn them, pure, refined, To days of early youth, and friends we've left behind.

No 13.

LINES

On Temperance.

I.

HAIL, glorious Temperance, thy blissful smile
Beams brightly still upon our ocean isle,
And gathers into one resistless band

The good, the true, the virtuous of the land.
Though storms assail, and darkness, and despair,
Hung out their murky banners in the air;
Though hope scarce sheds one ray, unless to show
The depth, the utter wretchedness of woe
Of the "doomed island," and then quickly flies,
But leaves revealed a nation's agonies!
Still, still above the darkness and despair,
One star of beauty brightly burns there,
One cherished ray that yet the storm defies,
Irradiates earth, and points unto the skies!
O Temperance! green oasis of the heart,
Handmaid of virtue, friend of every art,
Peace, piety, contentment, cheerful health,
These are thy gems that all the world's wealth
Could never purchase, these thy gifts sublime
Which fail nor fade not, but improve with time!
And Wexford, foremost in the glorious race,
Was first to clasp thee in a fond embrace;

Here glorious MATHEW crushed the hydra-foe,
Intemperance, rapine, wretchedness, and woe;
And still cheered on by those who love thee best,
High towards the heavens thou bearest thy flashing

crest,

Which all that ever brilliant fancy told,
Of silver blossoms, and of fruits of gold,
Are really thine, thrice blessed Temperance,
The poor man's guide, his hope, inheritance!

No. 14.

LINES

Written after an Evening's Walk in Summer.

I.

THE sun has just gone down, how sweet this hour! How calm! how beautifully soft! a time

When tender thoughts, and fancy's dream have power

Over young hearts, unspeakable. When chime The cymbals of the soul with each bright flower,

That sighs itself away. Ah, where a crime, So great as not to feel in such an hour as this, When earth and heaven are blending into bliss!

II.

See what a rosy halo lingers there

Among the clouds! as if young Nature "blushed At her own loveliness:" all, all is fair,

And bright, and beautiful in heaven. And hushed Are all those stormy passions fraught with care

And strife on earth. Man's heart alone seems

crushed,

Like to a dying rosebud left to pine

On its own tree, while flowers around it twine.

III.

Still 'tis the poet's hour, when his soul
Drinks up ethereal drafts of pure delight,
More richly luxurious than that starred bowl
Of Houris' nectar drawn from fonts of light
For warrior chiefs. Then plays without control
That lambient flame which cheered him through
the night,

When no lov'd beacon cast its guiding ray,
But shoals and quicksands strew the rocky way!

IV.

Then through the twilight of the soul we gaze
At what we were when love and life were young;
And feelings deep and pure first caught the blaze
Of beauty's eye, when first of love we sung,

When joy fresh sparkled through the crystal vase

Of hope; and smiles, like moonlight, softly flung Their angel-robes around the altar shrine, Though broken now, yet once was half divine!

V.

Yes; broken now! where many a priestess bright Had fed the pristine flame; but now, ah! now, No star of beauty sheds its hallowed light

On the deep midnight of the scathed brow; For storms hath gathered there in all their might, And billows tossed the bark of life, whose prow Was sadly shattered, while the wished-for bay Rose like a paradise before the way.

VI.

But rose in vain; for all the breathing bliss.
Which fancy robed creation with was gone,
And left a dark and dreary wilderness

Of thought behind. For as we still sail on,
The waves of time, we gain at best but this,

To know the things we prized had one by one Passed off like stars that glimmer while they set, Still shining on to heighten our regret.

VII.

And this is life? to see young hopes depart,
To feel the romance of our youth decay,
And all its magic fading from the heart;
To find the world less beautiful to-day