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IRISH MELODIES. |
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He listen'd — while, high o'er the eagle's rude nest, The lingering sounds on their way lov'd to rest; And the echoes sung back from their full mountain quire, As if loth to let song so enchanting expire.
It seem'd as if every sweet note that died here Was again brought to life in some airier sphere, Some heav'n in those hills, where the soul of the strain That had ceas'd upon earth was awaking again.
Oh forgive, if, while listening to music, whose breath Seem'd to circle his name with a charm against death, He should feel a proud Spirit within him proclaim, " Even so shalt thou live in the echoes of Fame:
" Even so, tho' thy memory should now die away,
" 'Twill be caught up again in some happier day,
" And the hearts and the voices of Erin prolong,
" Through the answering future, thy name and thy song."
FAIREST! PUT ON AWHILE.
Fairest ! put on awhile
These pinions of light I bring thee, And o'er thy own green isle
In fancy let me wing thee. Never did Ariel's plume,
At golden sunset, hover O'er scenes so full of bloom
As I shall waft thee over. |
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