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RICH AND RARE WERE THE GEMS SHE WORE.

RICH and rare were the gems she wore,

And a bright gold ring on her wand she bore;

But oh her beauty was far beyond

Her sparkling gems, or snow-white wand.

"Lady dost thou not fear to stray,

"So lone and lovely through this bleak way? "Are Erin's sons so good or so cold,

"As not to be tempted by woman or gold?"

"Sir Knight! I feel not the least alarm,

"No son of Erin will offer me harm:

"For though they love woman and golden store,
"Sir Knight! they love honour and virtue more.”

On she went, and her maiden smile

In safety lighted her round, the Green Isle;
And blest for ever is she who relied

Upon Erin's honour and Erin's pride.

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NEER ask the hour-what is it to us

How Time deals out his treasures?

The golden moments lent us thus,

Are not his coin, but Pleasure's.

If counting them o'er could add to their blisses,
I'd number each glorious second:

But moments of joy are, like Lesbia's kisses,
Too quick and sweet to be reckon'd.

Then fill the cup-what is it to us
How Time his circle measures ?

The fairy hours we call up thus,
Obey no wand but Pleasure's.

Young Joy ne'er thought of counting hours,
Till Care, one summer's morning,

Set up, among his smiling flowers,

A dial, by way of warning.

But Joy lov'd better to gaze on the sun,

As long as its light was glowing,

Than to watch with old Care how the shadows stole on,

And how fast that light was going.

So fill the cup-what is it to us.
How Time his circle measures?
The fairy hours we call up thus,
Obey no wand but Pleasure's.

NO, NOT MORE WELCOME.

No, not more welcome the fairy numbers
Of music fall on the sleeper's ear,
When half-awaking from fearful slumbers,
He thinks the full quire of heaven is near,
Than came that voice, when, all forsaken,

This heart long had sleeping lain,

Nor thought its cold pulse would ever waken
To such benign, blessed sounds again.

Sweet voice of comfort! 'twas like the stealing Of summer wind thro' some wreathed shellEach secret winding, each inmost feeling

Of all my soul echoed to its spell.

'Twas whisper'd balm-'twas sunshine spoken!I'd live years of grief and pain

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To have my long sleep of sorrow broken
By such benign, blessed sounds again.

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At Beauty's door of glass,
When Wealth and Wit once stood,
They ask'd her, "Which might pass
??
She answer'd, "He who could."
With golden key Wealth thought
To pass-but 'twould not do:
While Wit a diamond brought,
Which cut his bright way through.
So here's to her, who long
Hath wak'd the poet's sigh,

The girl, who gave to song
What gold could never buy.

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