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IRISH MELODIES. |
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One night, still haunted by that bright look,
The boy, bewilder'd, his pencil took,
And, guided only by memory's light,
Drew the once-seen form of the Mountain Sprite.
" Oh thou, who lovest the shadow," cried
A voice, low whisp'ring by his side,
"Now turn and see,"—here the youth's delight
Seal'd the rosy lips of the Mountain Sprite.
" Of all the Spirits of land and sea,"
Then rapt he murmur'd, "there's none like thee,
" And oft, oh oft, may thy foot thus light
"In this lonely bower, sweet Mountain Sprite !" |
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AS VANQTJISH'D ERIN.
As vanquish'd Erin wept beside
The Boyne's ill-fated river, She saw where Discord, in the tide,
Had dropp'd his loaded quiver. " Lie hid," she cried, " ye venom'd darts,
" Where mortal eye may shun you ; " Lie hid — the stain of manly hearts
" That bled for me is on you."
But vain her wish, her weeping vain, — As Time too well hath taught her—
Each year the Fiend returns again, And dives into that water; |
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