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Foarless she had tracked his feet
Glendalough, thy gloomy wave
AWENGING AND BRIGHT.
AvexcING and bright fall the swift sword of Erin"
For every fond eye he hath wakened a tear in,
By the red cloud that hung over Conor's dark dwelling,f When Ulad's: three champions lay sleeping in gore—
By the billows of war, which so often, high swelling, Have wasted these heroes to victory's shore—
We swear to revenge them —no joy shall be tasted, The harp shall be silent, the maiden unwed,
Üur halls shall be mute, and our fields shall lie wasted, Till vengeance is wreaked on the murderer's head.
Yes, monarch' though sweet are our home recollections, Though sweet are the tears that from tenderness fall;
Though sweet are our friendships, our hopes, our affections, Revenge on a tyrant is sweetest of all!
THE MINSTREL BOY.
THE Minstrel Boy to the war is gone,
The Minstrel fell —but the foeman’s chain
*The words of this song were suggested by the very ancient łrsh story called “Deirdri, or the Lamentable Fate of the sons of "snach,” which has been translated literally from the Gaelic, by Mr O'Flanagan (see vol. i. of “Transactions of the Gaelic Society : Dublin"), and upon which it appears that the “Darthula of Mactherson” is founded. The treachery of Conor, king of Ulster, in putting to death the three sons of Usna, was the cause of a deso*ting war against Ulster, which terminated in the destruction of Eman. “This story,” says Mr. O'Flanagan, “has been, from time innemorial, held in high repute as one of the three tragic stories of the Irish. These are. “The death of the children of Touran ." 'The death of the children of Lear' (both regarding Tuatha de Damans); and this, “The death of the children of Usnach,” which is a Milesian story.” It will be recollected. that, in the second number of these Melodies, there is a ballad upon the story of the children of Lear or Lir: “Silent, oh Moyle " &c.
Whatever may be thought of those sanguine claims to antiquity which Mr. O'Flanagan and others advance for the literature of Ireland, it would be a lasting reproach upon our nationality if the Gaelic researches of this gentleman did not meet with all the libtral encouragement they so well merit.
t “Oh Nasi' view that cloud that I here see in the sky! I see over Eman-green a chilling cloud of blood-tinged red.”—Deirdri's
LESBLA HATH A BEAMING EYE.
LEsbia hath a beaming eye,
Lesbia wears a robe of gold,
Lesbia hath a wit refined,
ONE BUMPER AT PARTING.
ONE bumber at parting —though many
As onward we journey, how pleasant
We saw how the sun looked in sinking,