And berries from the wood provide,
And play my clarshech by thy side-
Then come, my love!"-How could I stay?
Our nimble stag-hounds track'd the way,
And I pursued by moonless skies,
The light of Connocht, Moran's eyes!

And fast and far, before the star

Of day-spring, rush'd we through the glade,
And saw at dawn the lofty bawn
Of Castle-Connor fade.

Sweet was to us the hermitage
Of this unplough'd, untrodden shore;
Like birds all joyous from the cage,
For man's neglect we loved it more!
And well he knew, my huntsman dear,
To search the game with hawk and spear;
While I, his evening food to dress,
Would sing to him in happiness!
But oh, that midnight of despair,
When I was doom'd to rend my hair!
The night, to me of shrieking sorrow!
The night to him—that had no morrow!
When all was hush'd at even-tide,
I heard the baying of their beagle:

'Be hush'd! my Connocht,' Moran cried,
Tis but the screaming of the eagle ’–
Alas! 'twas not the eyrie's sound,
Their bloody bands had track'd us out;
Up-listening starts our couchant hound—
And, hark! again that nearer shout
Brings faster on the murderers.

Spare-spare him-Brazil-Desmond fierce!
In vain no voice the adder charms;
Their weapons cross'd my sheltering arms;
Another's sword has laid him low-

Another's and another's;

And every band that dealt the blow-
Ah me! it was a brother's!

Yes, when his moanings died away,
Their iron hands had dug the clay,
And o'er his burial turf they trod,
And I beheld-O God! O God!-
His life-blood oozing from the sod!

Campbell.

Ode to Eloquence.

HEARD ye those loud-contending waves,
That shook Cecropia's pillar'd state'?
Saw ye the mighty from their graves
Look up, and tremble at her fate'?

Who shall calm the angry storm`?
Who the mighty task perform',

And bid the raging tumult cease`?
See the son of Hermes rise',

With siren tongue, and speaking eyes',
Hush' the noise', and soothe' to peace"!
See the olive branches waving
O'er Ilissus' winding stream',
Their lovely limbs the Naiads laving',
The Muses smiling by, supreme'!

See the nymphs and swains advancing',
To harmonious measures dancing`:
Grateful Io Paans rise

To thee', O Power'! who can inspire'
Soothing' words-or words of fire',

And shook' thy plumes' in Attic' skies!

Lo! from the regions of the north',
The reddening storm of battle pours',
Rolls along the trembling earth',
Fastens on the Olynthian towers`.

Where rests the sword`?—where sleep the brave'?
Awake! Cecropia's ally save'

From the fury of the blast`:

Burst the storm on Phocis' walls"!

Rise'! or Greece' for ever' falls';

Up! or Freedom' breathes' her last`."

The jarring states, obsequious' now',
View the patriot's hand on high;
Thunder' gathering' on his brow',
Lightning' flashing' from his eye'.

Borne by the tide of words along',
One voice', one mind, inspire the throng:
"To arms! to arms! to arms'!" they cry;

"Grasp the shield', and draw' the sword'; Lead' us to Philippi's' lord';

Let us conquer him, or die`!"

Ah, Eloquence! thou wast undone';
Wast from thy native country driven',
When Tyranny eclipsed' the sun',

And blotted out' the stars' of heaven'!

When Liberty' from Greece' withdrew,
And o'er the Adriatic' flew'

To where the Tiber' pours' his urn'—
She struck the rude' Tarpeian' rock`,
Sparks were kindled' by the stroke-
Again' thy fires began to burn!

Now shining forth, thou madest compliant'
The conscript fathers to thy charms',
Roused' the world-bestriding giant',
Sinking' fast' in Slavery's' arms`.

I see thee stand by Freedom's fane`,
Pouring the persuasive' strain',

Giving vast' conceptions' birth':
Hark'! I hear thy thunders sound',
Shake' the Forum' round' and round',
Shake' the pillars' of the earth'!

First'-born of Liberty` divine'!

Put on Religion's' bright array`:
Speak'! and the starless grave' shall shine
The portal' of eternal' day`!

Rise', kindling with the orient beam',
Let Calvary's hill inspire the theme',
Unfold the garments roll'd in blood'!

Oh, touch' the soul'-touch all` her chords'
With all the omnipotence of words',

And point the way' to heaven'-to God`!

The Sister's Curse.

66

'AND go!" I cried, “the combat seek,
Ye hearts that unappalled bore
The anguish of a sister's shriek,
Go!-and return no more!

Anonymous.

For sooner guilt the ordeal brand
Shall grasp unhurt, than ye shall hold
The banner with victorious hand,
Beneath a sister's curse unroll'd."
O stranger! by my country's loss!
And by my love! and by the cross!
I swear I never could have spoke
The curse that sever'd nature's yoke;
But that a spirit o'er me stood,
And fired me with the wrathful mood;
And frenzy to my heart was given,
To speak the malison of heaven.

They would have cross'd themselves all mute;
They would have pray'd to burst the spell;
But, at the stamping of

my foot,

Each hand down powerless fell!
And go to Athunree!" I cried,
"High lift the banner of your pride!
But know that where its sheet unrolls,
The weight of blood is on your souls!
Go where the havoc of your kerne
Shall float as high as mountain fern!
Men shall no more your mansion know;
The nettles on your hearth shall grow!
Dead as the green oblivious flood,
That mantles by your walls, shall be
The glory of O'Connor's blood!

Away! away to Athunree!

Where downward when the sun shall fall,

The raven's wing shall be your pall;

And not a vassal shall unlace
The vizor from your dying face!"

A bolt that overhung our dome,
Suspended till my curse was given,
Soon as it pass'd these lips of foam,
Peal'd in the blood-red heaven!
Dire was the look that o'er their backs
The angry parting brothers threw:
But now, behold! like cataracts,
Come down the hills in view,
O'Connor's plumed partisans,
Thrice ten Kilnagorvian clans
Were marching to their doom:

A sudden storm their plumage toss'd,
A flash of lightning o'er them cross'd,
And all again was gloom!

Campbell.

Alexander's Feast.

'Twas at the royal feast, for Persia won
By Philip's warlike son,

Aloft in awful state,

The god-like hero sate

On his imperial throne.

His valiant peers were placed around,
Their brows with roses and with myrtle bound:
So should desert in arms be crown'd.
The lovely Thais, by his side,
Sat like a blooming eastern bride,
In flower of youth, and beauty's pride.-
Happy, happy, happy pair!

None but the brave,

None but the brave,

None but the brave, deserves the fair.

Timotheus, placed on high

Amid the tuneful choir,

With flying fingers touch'd the lyre: The trembling notes ascend the sky, And heavenly joys inspire.

The song began from Jove,

Who left his blissful seat above-
Such is the power of mighty love!-
A dragon's fiery form belied the god:
Sublime on radiant spheres he rode,
When he to fair Olympia press'd,

And stamp'd an image of himself, a sovereign of the world.
The listening crowd admire the lofty sound:

66

66

A present deity!" they shout around;

A present deity!" the vaulted roofs rebound-
With ravish'd ears

The monarch hears,
Assumes the god,

Affects to nod,

And seems to shake the spheres.