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IRISH MELODIES. 1 I 7
But, come, the more rare such delights to the heart, The more we should welcome and bless them the more,
They're ours, when we meet,—they are lost, when we part,
,»Like birds that bring summer and fly when 'tis o'er.
Thus circling the cup, hand in hand, ere we drink, Let Sympathy pledge us, thro' pleasure, thro' pain,
That, fast as a feeling but touches one link, Her magic shall send it direct thro' the chain. |
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THE MOUNTAIN SPRITE.
In yonder valley there dwelt, alone,
A youth whose moments had calmly flown,
Till spells came o'er him, and, day and night,
He was haunted and watch'd by a Mountain Sprite.
As once, by moonlight, he wander'd o'er The golden sands of that island shore, A foot-print sparkled before his sight — 'Twas the fairy foot of the Mountain Sprite!
Beside a fountain, one sunny day,
As bending over the stream he lay,
There peep'd down o'er him two eyes of light,
And he saw in that mirror, the Mountain Sprite.
He turn'd—but, lo, like a startled bird, That spirit fled—and the youth but heard Sweet music, such as marks the flight Of some bird of song, from the Mountain Sprite. i 3 |
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