| Share page | Visit Us On FB |
|
IRISH MELODIES. |
53 |
||
|
When Hylas was sent with his urn to the fount,
Thro' fields full of light, with heart full of play, Light rambled the boy, over meadow and mount,
And neglected his task for the flowers on the way. * Thus many, like me, who in youth should have tasted
The fountain that runs by Philosophy's shrine, Their time with the flowers on the margin have wasted,
And left their light urns all as empty as mine. But pledge me the goblet — while Idleness weaves
These flowerets together, should "Wisdom but see One bright drop or two that has fall'n on the leaves
From her fountain divine, 't is sufficient for me. |
|||
|
OH THE SHAMROCK.
Through Erin's Isle, To sport awhile, As Love and Valour wander'd, "With Wit, the sprite, Whose quiver bright A thousand arrows squander'd ; Where'er they pass, A triple grass f Shoots up, with dew-drops streaming,
• " Proposito florem praetulit officio."
Pbopert. lib. i. eleg. 20.
f St. Patrick is said to have made use of that species of the trefoil, to which in Ireland we give the name of Shamrock, in £ 3 |
|||