Peace to each manly soul that sleepeth!
Rest to each faithful eye that weepeth!
Long may the fair and brave,
Sigh o'er the hero's grave.

We're fall'n upon gloomy days,*
Star after star decays;
Ev'ry bright name that shed

Light o'er the land, is fled.
Dark falls the tear of him who mourneth
Lost joy or hope, that ne'er returneth :
But brightly flows the tear
Wept o'er the hero's bier.

Oh! quench'd are our beacon lights,
Thou, of the hundred fights,†
Thou, on whose burning tongue
Truth, peace, and freedom, hung!
Both mute-but, long as valour shineth,
Or mercy's soul at war repineth,

* I have endeavoured bere, without losing that Irish character which it is my object to preserve throughout this work, to allude to that sad and omin ous fatality, by which England has been deprived of so manygreat and good men, at a moment when she most requires all the aids of talent and integrity.

† This designation, which has been applied to lord Nelson before, is the title given to a celebrated Irish hero, in a poem by O'Gnive, the bard of O’Ni. al, which is quoted in the "Philosophical Survey of the south of Ireland," page 435. "Con, of the hundred fights, sleep in thy grass-grown tomb, and upbraid not our defeats with thy victories!"

Fox," ultimus Romanorum."

We may roam through this world, like a child at a feast,

Who but sips of a sweet, and then flies to the rest, And when pleasure begins to grow dull in the east, We may order our wings and be off to the west. But if hearts that feel, and eyes that smile, Are the dearest gift that heav'n supplies, We never need leave our own green isle

For sensitive hearts and for sun-bright eyes. Then remember, wherever your goblet is crown'd, Through this world, whether eastward or westward you roam,

When a cup to the smile of dear woman goes round, Oh! remember the smile which adorns her at home.

In England, the garden of beauty is kept

By a dragon of prudery, plac'd within call; But so oft this unamiable dragon has slept,

That the garden's but carelessly watch'd after all.

Oh, they want the wild sweet-briery fence,
Which round the flowers of Erin dwells;
Which warms the touch, while winning the sense,
Nor charms us least when it most repels.
Then remember, &c.

In France, when the heart of a woman sets sail,
On the ocean of wedlock its fortune to try,
Love seldom goes far in a vessel so frail,

But just pilots her off, and then bids her good bye!
While the daughters of Erin keep the boy
Even smiling beside his faithful oar,
Through billows of woe and beams of joy,

The same as he look'd when he left the shore. Then remember me, &c.

EVELEEN'S BOWER.

Он, weep for the hour

When to Eveleen's bower

The lord of the valley with false vows came;
The moon hid her light

From the heavens that night,

And wept behind the clouds o'er the maiden's shame. The clouds past soon

From the chaste cold moon,

And heaven smil'd again with her vestal flame ;

K

But none will see the day

When the clouds shall pass away,

Which that dark hour left upon Eveleen's fame.

The white snow lay

On the narrow path-way

Where the lord of the valley cross'd over the moor; And many a deep print

On the white snow's tint,

Show'd the track of his footstep to Eveleen's door. The next sun's ray

Soon melted away

Ev'ry trace on the path where the false lord came; But there's a light above

Which alone can remove

That stain upon the snow of fair Eveleen's fame.

LET ERIN REMEMBER.

AIR" The red Fox."

LET Erin remember the days of old,
Ere faithless sons betray'd her;
When Malachi wore the collar of gold,*

Which he won from her proud invader;

*“This brought on an encounter between Malachi (the monarch of Ireland in the 10th century) and the Danes, in which Malachi defeated two of their

When her king with standard of green unfurl'd,
Led the Red Branch knights* to danger,
Ere the emerald gem of the western world,
Was set in the crown of a stranger.

On Lough-Neagh's bank, as the fisherman strays, When the clear cold eve's declining,

champions, whom he encountered successively hand to hand, taking a collar of gold from the neck of one, and carrying off the sword of the other, as trophies of his victory."

Warner's History of Ireland, Vol. I. Book 9.

* "Military orders of knights were very early established in Ireland: long before the birth of Christ we find a hereditary order of chivalry in Ulster, called Curiadhe na Craoibbe ruadh, or the Knights of the Red Branch, from their chief seat in Emania, adjoining to the palace of the Ulster kings, called Teagh na Craoibhe ruadh, or the Academy of the Red Branch; and contiguous to which was a large hospital, founded for the sick knights and soldiers, called Bron-bhearg, or the House of the sorrowful Soldier."

O'Halloran's Introduction, &c. part 1. chap. 5.

The inscription upon Connor's tomb, (for the fac-simile of which I am indebted to Mr. Murphy, chaplain of the late lady Moira) has not, I believe, been noticed by any antiquarian or traveller.

Translation of an ancient Irish inscription upon a tombstone in the abbey of Multifernon, county of Westmeath, Ireland:

A yellow lion upon green satin,

The standard of the heroes of the Red Branch,

Which Connor carried in battle,

During his frequent wars for the expulsion of foreigners.

It was an old tradition in the time of Giraldus, that Lough-Neagh had been originally a fountain by whose sudden overflowing the country was inundat