He died not till you went to fight The Turks at Warradein; But I see my tale has changed you pale.”- And brought a little page who pour'd The stunned knight saw himself restored And stoop'd and caught him to his breast, And with a shower of kisses press'd The darling little one. "And where went Jane?"_ "To a nunnery, Sir Look not again so pale Kinghorn's old dame grew harsh to her." "And has she ta'en the veil ?" "Sit down, Sir," said the priest, "I bar Rash words."-They sat all three, And the boy play'd with the knight's broad star, As he kept him on his knee. "Think ere you ask her dwelling-place," The abbot further said; "Time draws a veil o'er beauty's face More deep than cloister's shade. Grief may have made her what you can The priest undid two doors that hid And there a lovely woman stood, One moment may with bliss repay Of the knight embracing Jane. 1828. MEN of England! who inherit Rights that cost your sires their blood! Men whose undegenerate spirit Has been proved on field and flood:— By the foes you've fought uncounted, Yet, remember, England gathers Glow not in your hearts the same. What are monuments of bravery, Trophied temples, arch, and tomb? Pageants!-Let the world revere us Yours are Hampden's, Russell's glory, Sidney's matchless shade is yours,— Martyrs in heroic story, Worth a hundred Agincourts! We're the sons of sires that baffled SONG. DRINK ye to her that each loves best, That's told but to her mutual breast, Enough, while memory tranced and glad Paints silently the fair, That each should dream of joys he's had, Or yet may hope to share. Yet far, far hence be jest or boast THE HARPER. On the green banks of Shannon, when Sheelah was nigh, No blithe Irish lad was so happy as I No harp like my own could so cheerily play, When at last I was forced from my Sheelah to part, She said, (while the sorrow was big at her heart,) Oh! remember your Sheelah when far, far away: And be kind, my dear Pat, to our poor dog Tray. Poor dog! he was faithful and kind, to be sure, And he constantly loved me, although I was poor; When the sour-looking folks sent me heartless away, I had always a friend in my poor dog Tray. When the road was so dark, and the night was so cold, And Pat and his dog were grown weary and old, |