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Who, when the time of summer season smiled, Did earn for her a meal of honesty, And with affectionate discourse beguiled The keen attacks of pain and poverty; Till Power, as envying her this only joy, , From her maternal bosom tore the unhappy boy. VII. And now cold charity’s unwelcome dole Was insufficient to support the pair; And they would perish rather than would
bear The law's stern slavery, and the insolent Stare With which law loves to rend the poor man's soul—
The bitter scorn, the spirit-sinking noise
BROTHERs 1 between you and me
Whirlwinds sweep and billows roar:
On thy wild and winding shore
See them drenched in sacred gore,—
Shout aloud! Let every slave,
Crouching at Corruption's throne, Start into a man, and brave
Racks and chains without a groan; And the castle's heartless glow, And the hovel’s vice and woe, Fade like gaudy flowers that blow—
Weeds that peep, and then are gone; Whilst, from misery's ashes risen, Love shall burst the captive's prison.
Cotopaxi! bid the sound
Through thy sister mountains ring, Till each valley smile around
At the blissful welcoming ! And O thou stern Ocean-deep, Thou whose foamy billows sweep Shores where thousands wake to weep
Whilst they curse a villain king, On the winds that fan thy breast Bear thou news of Freedom’s rest !
Ere the day-star dawn of love,
Where the flag of war unfurled Floats with crimson stain above
The fabric of a ruined world? Never but to vengeance driven When the patriot's spirit shriven Seeks in death its native heaven!
There, to desolation hurled, Widowed love may watch thy bier, Balm thee with its dying tear.
BEAR witness, Erin! when thine injured isle
Sees summer on its verdant pastures smile,
Its cornfields waving in the winds that sweep
The billowy surface of thy circling deep.
Thou tree whose shadow o’er the Atlantic gave
Peace, wealth, and beauty, to its friendly wave, its blossoms fade,
And blighted are the leaves that cast its shade ;
Whilst the cold hand gathers its scanty fruit,
Whose chillness struck a canker to its root.
EYES : A FRAGMENT.
How eloquent are eyes!
Not the rapt poet’s frenzied lay
When the soul’s wildest feelings stray
Not music’s most impassioned note
On which love’s warmest fervours float
Love, look thus again,—
TO THE QUEEN OF MY HEART.
When the moon is rising bright;
What I dare not in broad day-light!
When the pale moonbeam
On tower and stream
How I love to gaze
As the cold ray strays
V. Those boiling waves And the storm that raves At night o'er their foaming crest, Resemble the strife That, from earliest life, The passions have waged in my breast.
THE DEVIL’S WALK.
II. He drew on a boot to hide his hoof, He drew on a glove to hide his claw, His horns were concealed by a Bras Chapeau, And the Devil went forth as natty a Beau As Bond-street ever saw.
IV. And then to St. James's court he went, And St. Paul's Church he took on his way,