HUSSA THA MEASG NA REALTAN MORE.*

My love, my still unchanging love,
As fond, as true, as hope above;
Tho' many a year of pain passed by
Since last I heard thy farewell sigh,
This faithful heart doth still adore
Hussa tha measg na realtán more.

What once we hoped might then have been,
But fortune darkly frown'd between ;
And tho' far distant is the ray
That lights me on my weary way,
I love, and shall 'till life is o'er,
Hussa tha measg na realtán more.

Tho' many a light of beauty shone
Along my path, and lured me on,
I better lov'd thy dark bright eye,
Thy witching smile, thy speaking sigh ;
Shine on, this heart shall still adore
Hussa tha measg na realtán more.

* Thou who art amongst the greater Planets.

SACRED SUBJECTS.

THE VIRGIN MARY'S BANK.

From the foot of Inchidony Island, an elevated tract of sand runs out into the sea, and terminates in a high green bank, which forms a pleasing contrast with the little desert behind it, and the black solitary rock immediately under. Tradition tells that the Virgin came one night to this hillock to pray, and was discovered kneeling there by the crew of a Vessel that was coming to anchor near the place. They laughed at her piety, and made some merry and unbecoming remarks on her beauty, upon which a storm arose and destroyed the Ship and her crew. Since that time no vessel has been known to anchor near the spot.

Such is the story upon which the following Stanzas are founded.

The evening star rose beauteous above the fading day, As to the lone and silent beach the Virgin came to pray, And hill and wave shone brightly in the moonlight's mellow fall;

But the bank of green where Mary knelt was brightest of them all.

Slow moving o'er the waters, a gallant bark appear'd, And her joyous crew look'd from the deck as to the land she near'd;

To the calm and shelter'd haven she floated like a

swan,

And her wings of snow o'er the waves below in pride and beauty shone.

The Master saw our Lady as he stood upon the prow, And mark'd the whiteness of her robe and the radiance of her brow;

Her arms were folded gracefully upon her stainless breast, And her eyes look'd up among the stars to Him her soul lov'd best.

He show'd her to his sailors, and he hail'd her with a

cheer;

And on the kneeling Virgin they gazed with laugh and

jeer;

And madly swore, a form so fair they never saw before; And they curs'd the faint and lagging breeze that kept them from the shore.

The ocean from its bosom, shook off the moonlight sheen,

And up its wrathful billows rose to vindicate their Queen; And a cloud came o'er the heavens, and a darkness o'er

the land,

And the scoffing crew beheld no more that Lady on the

strand.

I

Out burst the pealing thunder, and the light'ning leap'd

about;

And rushing with his watery war, the tempest gave a

shout;

And that vessel from a mountain wave came down with thund'ring shock;

And her timbers flew like scatter'd spray on Inchidony's rock.

Then loud from all that guilty crew one shriek rose wild and high:

But the angry surge swept over them and hush'd their gurgling cry;

And with a hoarse exulting tone the tempest pass'd

away,

And down, still chafing from their strife, the indignant waters lay.

When the calm and purple morning shone out on high Dunmore,

Full many a mangled corpse was seen on Inchidony's

shore;

And to this day the fisherman shows where the scoffers

MARY MAGDALEN.

To the hall of that feast came the sinful and fair;
She heard in the City that Jesus was there;

She mark'd not the splendour that blaz'd on their board :
But silently knelt at the feet of the Lord.

The hair from her forehead so sad and so meek,
Hunk dark o'er the blushes that burn'd on her cheek;
And so still and so lowly she bent in her shame,
It seem'd as her spirit had flown from its frame.

The frown and the murmur went round thro' them all,
That one so unhallow'd should tread in that hall,
And some said the poor would be objects more meet,
For the wealth of the perfumes she shower'd on his feet.

She mark'd but her Saviour, she spoke but in sighs,
She dar'd not look up to the heaven of his eyes,
And the hot tears gush'd forth at each heave of her breast,
As her lips to his sandal were throbbingly prest.

On the cloud after tempests, as shineth the bow;
In the glance of the sun-beam, as melteth the snow,
He look'd on that lost one; her sins were forgiven;
And Mary went forth in the beauty of Heaven.