Such sounds the warrior awestruck might have heard, While arm'd for fields of chivalrous renown: Such the high hearts of kings might well have stirr'd, While throbbing still beneath the recent crown! These notes once more! - they bear my soul away, All is of Heaven!-Yet wherefore to mine eye Gush the vain tears unbidden from their source? Even while the waves of that strong harmony Roll with my spirit on their sounding course! Wherefore must rapture its full heart reveal KEENE, OR LAMENT OF AN IRISH MOTHER OVER HER SON. This lament is intended to imitate the peculiar style of the Irish Keenes, many of which are distinguished by a wild and deep pathos, and other characteristics analogous to those of the national music. DARKLY the cloud of night comes rolling on; There is blood upon the threshold Whence thy step went forth at morn, Oh, my bright first-born! At the glad sound of that footstep, -Thou wert brought me back all silent Darkly the cloud of night comes rolling on; Darker is thy repose, my fair-hair'd son! Silent and dark! I thought to see thy children I shall go to sit beside thee, Thy kindred's graves among; I shall hear the tall grass whisper- Darkly the cloud of night comes rolling on; Darker is thy repose, my fair-hair'd son! And I too shall find slumber Silent and dark! With my lost one, in the earth; -Let none light up the ashes Again on our hearth! Let the roof go down!-let silence On the home for ever fall, Where my boy lay cold, and heard not His lone mother's call! Darkly the cloud of night comes rolling on; Silent and dark! FAR AWAY.1 FAR away!-my home is far away, Where the blue sea laves a mountain shore; Far away! my dreams are far away, When at midnight, stars and shadows reign; "Gentle child," my mother seems to say, "Follow me where home shall smile again!" Far away! Far away! my hope is far away, Where love's voice young gladness may restore; -O thou dove! now soaring through the day, Lend me wings to reach that better shore, Far away! 1 This, and the five following songs, have been set to music of great merit, by J. Zeugheer Herrmann, and H. F. C., and are published in a set by Mr. Power, who has given permission for the appearance of the words in this volume. THE LYRE AND FLOWER. A LYRE its plaintive sweetness pour'd -Oh, child of song! Bear hence to heaven thy fire! What hopest thou from the reckless throng; Not like that lyre! A flower its leaves and odours cast Waste not thy precious dower! Not like that flower! SISTER! SINCE I MET THEE LAST. SISTER! Since I met thee last, O'er thy brow a change hath past, In the softness of thine eyes, From thy voice there thrills a tone, Through thy soul a storm hath moved, Yes! thy varying cheek hath caught Tell me not the tale, my flower! THE LONELY BIRD. FROM a ruin thou art singing, Oh! lonely, lonely bird! The soft blue air is ringing By thy summer music stirr'd; |