THE VISION. Sull was the night on ocean's breast, The billows of the tideless deep, And its broad mirror calm and clear While zephyr lingered in his flight As loath to mar that image bright; So mute that moment of repose, Had broke the spell with voice too rude, 'Twas where a fountain murmuring played, Beneath the willow's weeping shade, In a deep glen, whose lonely breast By nature's wildest fancy drest, Seem'd as untrod by foot of man, Since first his race of guilt began; There war ne'er rung his iron peal, Ne'er had ambition bared the steel, Nor murder's crimson blade had dyed That fountain's pure unsullied tide, Nor treachery shuddered to behold Her image on its bosom cold; Ne'er heard that unfrequented grove The perjured vows of guilty love, Nor ever since the birth of time Wak'd echo to the voice of crime; On stiller hour or lovelier scene Ne'er look'd yon orb with ray serene, 'Since first array'd in robe of light, She claim'd the empire of the night; When past the weary hours of day, Sleep stole me from my cares away, That momentary grave of grief, Our best, alas! our sole relief, Where the deep ills of human lot, And seem'd their arms around him cast, Each flower that loves the mountain's side, A vision stood of form as fair, As that the Grecian's fancy gave To Venus walking from the wave; Like the flaunt cloud on summer's sky; That fairy foot had scarce imprest The foam upon the billow's breast, Less softly sound the accents sweet, When long, long parted lovers meet; The sigh that speaks the breaking heart: As on that hour of silence lone, To her whose lip would half deny Those sounds are hush'd, yet lingering still, While yet on memory's ear they thrill; Light o'er my throbbing temples flew, Light as morn's footstep o'er the dew, I wake, and find her rival there. A MIDSUMMER SPELL Before a step has trode the bower, At the sweet blushing dawn of day, 'Tis said, that such shall win the bliss And all the loveliness and truth Yet love, we know, eludes the clasp A SKETCH OF AN EXCURSION TO THE COUNTY OF WICKLOW, IN SEPTEMBER, 1825. Having never visited the county of Wicklow, and being particularly anxious, before leaving Dublin, to spend a few days in this delightful part of the country, I willingly accepted an invitation from some intimate friends to accompany them thither. Accordingly on wednesday the 21st of September, we set out on our expedition. We proceeded along the Dunleary road and had the pleasure of seeing the tide full in, so that it washed the wall which bounded the highway. On passing through Dunleary, we took a survey of that wonderful production of human industry and toil,-the pier, stretching its long arms into the sea, and holding in its giant clasp the artificial bay, which calmly slumbered in the enclosure, whilst the excluded ocean raged and foamed, and heaved its waves against each external side of the mighty bulwark. After leaving the village, we enjoyed a full view of the beautiful hills of Killiney, which lift their heads almost from the edge of the ocean; on one of them is erected a smal! obelisk, which crowns the summit, and is conspicuous at a great distance. the quarries which lie among these hills, is found the granite with which the pier is built. The blocks are conveyed to their place of destination, in small, flat, four-wheeled carts which descend with ease, along the inclined plain from the foot of the hill, to the water's edge, the wheels rolling in grooves adapted to their size, and lined with metal. This granite, which is very beautiful, is supposed by naturalists to have been the primary stone of the earth, which is extraordinary, as it is itself a composition, consisting of three parts, viz; nuca, quartz, and felt spar: this consideration involves the philosopher in a maze of conjecture, from which he generally escapes with the satisfactory conclusion, that some strange convulsion, agitated the chaotic mass, before the Creator established harmony and order. In As we advanced on our journey, the country presented the most agreeable aspect, being thickly covered with villas, cottages, and clumps of trees, bounded on the one side by the sea, and on the other by the distant Wicklow mountains, whilst the steeples of the Dublin cathedrals rose at a distance, through the mist of an autumn morning. At a sudden turn of the road we were astonished and delighted by the prospect of the Killiney bay, which rushed full on our view, dashing its white billows on the smooth sandy shore, which lay under the road by which we passed. From hence we had a clear prospect of Bray-head, which is a high and majestic promontory. We continued to contemplate the lovely and ever varying mountains, which seemed advancing to meet us, and to invite us into their dark recesses, until our arrival at Bray. From Bray, which is a pretty village and well situated, the traveller enters into the county of Wicklow, and here the scenery becomes still more beautiful. The first remarkable object which presented itself, was Kilruddery, the seat of the Earls of Meath. Grey, sombre, and stately, its towers shoot forth their heads from among the dark masses of trees which surround them; vener |