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And He! what was his fate—the bard !
He of the Desert Harp, whose song Flowed freely, wildly as the wind
That bere him and his harp along?
That fate which waits the gifted one,
To pine, each finer impulse checked ; At length to sink and die beneath
The shade and silence of neglect.
And this, the polished age, that springs
The Phænix from dark years gone by, That blames and mourns the past, yet leaves
Her warrior and her bard to die.
To die in poverty and pride ;
The light of hope and genius past; Each feeling wrung, until the heart
Could bear no more, so broke at last.
Thus withering amid the wreck
Of sweet hopes, high imaginings, What can the minstrel do but die,
Cursing his too beloved strings! Literary Gazette.
L. E. L,
THE VIRGIN MARY'S BANK.
AN IRISH TRADITION,
From the foot of Inchidony Island, in the bay of Clonakilty, an elevated tract of sandy ground juts out into the sea, and terminates in a bank of soft verdure, wbich forms a striking contrast to the little desart behind it, and the black solitary rock immediately under it. Tradition relates, that the Virgin Mary having wandered one evening to this sequestered spot, was there discovered praying, by the crew of a vessel which was then coming to anchor in the Bay. Instead of sympathising with her in her piety, the sailors were so inconsiderate as to turn her into ridicule, and even add to their ill-timed jeers some very impertinent remarks upon her beauty. The result may readily be anticipated—a storm arose, and the vessel having struck upon the black rock of Inchidony, went down with all her crew, not one of whom was ever afterwards heard of!
The evening star rose beauteously above the fading day,
Slow moving o'er the waters, a gallant bark appeared,
The Captain saw “Our Lady” first, as he stood upon the prow, And marked the whiteness of her robe, the radiance of her
brow; Her arms were folded gracefully, upon her stainless breast, And her eyes looked up among the stars, to Him her soul loved
He bad his sailors look on her, and hailed her with a cheer,
jeer;They madly vowed a form so fair they ne'er had seen before, And cursed the faint and lagging breeze that kept them from the
The ocean from its bosom then shook off its moonlight sheen, And its wrathful billows fiercely rose to vindicate their Queen; A cloud came o'er the heavens, and a darkness o'er the land, And the scoffing crew beheld no more the Lady on the strand.
Out burst the pealing thunder, and the lightning leaped about,
shock, And her timbers few like scattered 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 hushed that maddening
cry; With a hoarse, exulting murmur, the tempest died away, And down, still chafing from their strife, the indignant waters
When the calm and purple morning shone out on high Dunore,
J. C. C.
FROM THE ARABIC OF TOGRAI.
Thou sleep'st, while the eyes of the planets are watching,
Regardless of love and of me!
Present me with nothing but thee!
Thou art changed, while the colour of night changes not,
Like the fading allurements of day;
BY ALARIC A. WATTS.
They grew together
I saw them when their bud of life
Was slowly opening into flower,
Had burst above their natal bower;
What were they then? Two twinkling stars,
The youngest of an April sky,–
Together shining peacefully:
What were they then? Two limpid streams,
Through life's green vale in beauty gliding, Mingling like half-forgotten dreams ;
Now, 'neath the gloom of willows hiding ;Now, dancing o'er the turf away, In playful waves and glittering spray.
I see them, as I saw them then,
With careless brows, and laughing eyes ;They flash upon my soul again,
With all their infant witcheries ;Two gladsome spirits, sent on earth, As envoys from the Muse of mirth!
Such Fancy's dreams ;-but never more
May Fancy with such dreams be fed ;
Before their leaves had time to spread !-
Whilst Spring was gladdening all the skies,
Mid blooming flowers and sunny weather,
And smote them, in his love, together :
BY THE REV. CHARLES HOYLE.
Mysterious pile! what necromantic lore