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 heart. Yet it was not that Nature had shed o'er the scene "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, Each proud star, For me to feel its warming flame; 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 ;" 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! The soldier's hope, the patriot's zeal, LOVE'S YOUNG DREAM. OH! the days are gone, when beauty bright When my dream of life, from morn till night, New hope may bloom, And days may come But there's nothing half so sweet in life Oh! there's nothing half so sweet in life Though the bard to purer fame may soar, Though he win the wise, who frown'd before, He'll never meet In all his noon of fame, As when first he sung to woman's ear And, at every close, she blush'd to hear VOL. II.-A A Oh! that hallow'd form is ne'er forgot, Still it lingering haunts the greenest spot "Twas odour fled As soon as shed; 'Twas morning's winged dream; Oh! 'twas light that ne'er can shine again WHEN TWILIGHT DEWS. WHEN twilight dews are falling soft I watch the star, whose beam so oft There's not a garden walk I tread, THE YOUNG MAY-MOON. THE Young May-moon is beaming, love! Through Morna's grove, While the drowsy world is dreaming, love! Then awake! the heavens look bright, my dear! "Tis never too late for delight, my dear! And the best of all ways To lengthen our days, Is to steal a few hours from the night, my dear! Now all the world is sleeping, love! More glorious far, Is the eye from that casement peeping, love! Of bodies of light, He might happen to take thee for one, my dear! THE MINSTREL BOY. THE minstrel boy to the war is gone, The minstrel fell! but the foeman's chain Thy songs were made for the pure and free, |