The Song of O'Ruark,

PRINCE OF BREFFNI. 43

The valley lay smiling before me,

Where lately I left her behind; Yet I trembled, and something hung o'er me, That saddened the joy of my mind. I look'd for the lamp which, she told me, Should shine, when her Pilgrim return'd; But, though darkness began to infold me, No lamp from the battlements burn'd!

I flew to her chamber-'t was lonely,
As if the lov'd tenant lay dead;-
Ah, would it were death, and death only!
But no, the young false one had fled.
And there hung the lute that could soften
My very worst pains into bliss;

While the hand, that had wak'd it so often,
Now throbb'd to a proud rival's kiss.

'Tis the last rose of summer.

'Tis the last rose of summer

Left blooming alone;
All her lovely companions
Are faded and gone;
No flower of her kindred,
No rose-bud is nigh,

To reflect back her blushes,
Or give sigh for sigh.

I'll not leave thee, thou lone one!
To pine on the stem;
Since the lovely are sleeping,

Go, sleep thou with them.

Thus kindly I scatter

Thy leaves o'er the bed,

Where thy mates of the garden.

Lie scentless and dead.

RICHES-CO.