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IX.

"My soul is like the blushing spring,
The world may mock, I scorn its sneer;
Bright is the faith to which I cling,

That thou art loving still as dear;
The morn is fair, the rose is blushing,

The birds are singing sweet and loud, Then cease, my tears, oh, cease your gushing, Bright is yon orient sunlit cloud; But brighter far the hopes that shine, That still thy heart is joined with mine."

X.

I saw the child and mother weep,

And raise their melting eyes to heaven,
And heard the roaring tempest's sweep,
And saw the sky by lightning riven;
Their prayer was for a husband, sire,
Far, far upon the raging sea;

I shed within my sacred fire,

And whispered, "Hope remains to thee." And still they wept, and still they pray'd, But on their brow a radiance play'd.

XI.

With morning's dawn the sun arose,
Upon his holy bright career;
Now on the well-known pennant flows,

And now he clasps all earth has dear"I feared your heart with woe and dread

Last night was wrung?" "Oh, no! for we Prayed, hoped in Him who raised the dead,

That he would guard and succour thee,

And dry the widow's, orphan's tear;
And Hope was true, for thou art here."

XII.

I paused before the dungeon door,
I heard the cry of wild despair;

I entered on the cold, damp floor

Was stretched a man, whose sallow air
Spoke of long years of chains and death;
I shed one drop upon his tongue;
Fast came the wretch's failing breath,

And light aground his shackles run;
"Long days, long years, my youthful pride,
Have vanished on Time's gloomy tide."

XIII.

"Still must I linger, trampled here, Debarred from life, yet cannot die, While tear is onward chasing tear,

As day and night move slowly by ; Yes, I will live, for I behold

Bright visions in the future far, Fair as the western clouds of gold,

When sparkles eve's declining star:

I yet shall drink its holy beam,
And sleep beside my native stream!"

XIV.

I looked in at the lowly panc,

And saw a youth with flashing eye,

Pale, darkened brow, where visions reign,

And cheek that told mortality;

That brow, though wan, was bright with thought,
And burning with deep passion's glow-
The wreck of all he dreamt or sought-

Those ills which wait on man below,

Whose soul is wrought from dreams of heavenOh, why were such to mortals given!

XV.

In the deep anguish of his soul,

He saw but desolation near:

"Oh, heaven!" he cried, "is this the goal?" While poured Remembrance' bitter tear:

"Is this the fate of youth's fond dream— Their lot who sail on glory's tide ?"

I shed around my brightest beam,

But whispered, as I paused beside"Rest not thy soul's loved hope on earth, Oh, turn to regions of her birth!"

XVI.

He heard me not, but raised his eye,

Which sparkled bright with hope and pride"Unknown, unhonoured shall I die,

And weakly here my fate abide ? Was it for this a soul was given,

Above the earth and earthy clay, To be from out the bosom riven

By all the ills which men display: Sorrow, hate, despair, and scorn?— It was for this the mass was born.

XVII.

"Not I: the spirit still remains,

Though all fate could is wrung from me;

The heart to destiny complains,

For refuge turns its thought to thee,
Oh, happy youth! My soul is strong,
I yet shall win one wreath of fame,
An echo from the tide of song,

Shall sound the poet's deathless name;
And, through the cloud of burning tears,
Bright shines the sun of future years !"

XVIII.

I paused beside the bed of death,

Where fading life was ebbing fast; Short came the struggling mortal's breath, His hours and woes were almost past.

A lovely virgin knelt beside,

With pale cold brow, dishevelled hair;
Down her fair cheek poured the warm tide,
The tide of lonely, deep despair.

With every pang came deepest woe,
The ruin of fondest hopes below.

XIX.

She clasped the chilling hand of him

She loved with childhood's earliest love, And prayed, though now the eye grew dim, The deathless soul would soar above. The sorrow of that pure young heart

Wrung tears e'en from the seraph's eye, The fairest flower of all the rest

I gave 'twas faith and hope on high; Then turned me to that wrinkled brow, Where shades and anguish gather now.

XX.

I shed my brightest, purest ray,

Within the trembling sinner's breast; The clouds of terror passed away—

He looked up to the regions blest;

He saw the friend, the loved one there,
Who hailed on high his ransomed soul;

Less wild became his dying air,

A calmness o'er his spirit stole:

Oh, pity, heaven! this lonely one :
Have mercy, God!—the soul is gone!

XXI.

With all the earth and heaven can yield,
I bless the erring child of earth;
The flower that clothes the verdant field,
The smiling spring that gives it birth,
The vast unchanging changeful sea,

The sky of splendour, glory, light.
The visions of eternity

That flit in brightness o'er the sight, Like shades in lonely midnight hour, When fancy weaves her fairy bower.

XXII.

My smile is with the rise of morn,

With midnight's black funereal gloom; Where dread Religion from her urn,

Deals forth the lots of life and doom;

Where, on the waste of human soul,

Enthroned in clouds, sits wild Despair,
Where fairy hands earth's charms unroll,

Where thunders flash with sullen glare-
To all of earth my smile hath given
The hues of light and dreams of heaven.

F. F.

THE SYNOD OF THURLES.-ROMANISM OF 1829 AND 1850,

IN her contest with the State, the Church of Rome has of late days, and indeed for years past, conducted herself wisely. It has been said of her by one who knew her well, that she sustained adversity well, but was usually found wanting when tried by prosperity. It has not seemed so of late. Since the day when the royal visit of George IV. gave token of a vacillating policy in the British councils, the Church of Rome in Ireland has been, in her political enterprises, not less prudent than she has been successful. Her aggressions, her submissions, her explanations, her demands, her con cessions, have been all well-timed and judicious. She has known the seasons when she could be threatening, up to the very verge of treason, and, at the precise moment when it was absolutely necessary, has qualified her menaces, and averted their consequences by professions of ardent loyalty. She has had her various agents always ready for the device which the emergency demanded; and those who were to be leaders when she assaulted, and those who should cover her retreats, have been alike adequate to their duty, and alike honoured for the services they were competent to render. Is it, then, untrue, that the Church of Rome in Ireland is unable to abide the test of prosperity?

Perhaps she has not been duly subjected to such a test. Her successes may have been partial. She may have lost with her own people more ground than she has gained in her trial of strength with the government; and the intoxication, which the prosperous issue of her political efforts might have inflamed, may have been sobered by a salutary fear that her power over the masses was departing. The votaries she has lost make a strong set-off against her many acquisitions. She has succeeded in obtaining large instalments of a national endowment-a system of education contrived for her especial necessities-a college endowed very largely for her ecclesiastics— chaplaincies in public institutions—a poor-law, so fashioned and so wrought as to impoverish Protestant proprietors, and to ensure a permanent pro

vision of Roman Catholic paupers— these are great gains; but Achill and Dingle, and Ventry, Kingscourt, and Doon, and Cong, Castelkerke, and Connemara, and many another dreaded locality, have had stories to tell, by which the enthusiasm of success has been marvellously abated, and which give reason to surmise, that whatever there has been of moderation or temperance in her conduct is ascribable, not less to the difficulties by which she feels herself beset, than to her progress in wisdom or discretion.

In these remarks, it is to be understood, we have confined ourselves to the schemes and activities of Irish Romanism, which may be judged of by their issue. They have been suggested to us by an enterprise of greater apparent magnitude, and likely to be of more momentous consequences, than any which it has heretofore hazarded. We have asked ourselves, was the Synod of Roman Catholic Ecclesiastics recently assembled at Thurles wise? and the question caused many preceding displays of an ambitious purpose to pass before us-all vindicated in their results. If the latest display prove equally successful, a revolution will be accomplished in Ireland, of which "Repeal" will be but an incident. We are not relieved from the apprehension which such a display has naturally awakened by the efforts of organs of the public press to make light of it. Since that day when the Papal Nuncio Rinuccini descended on our shores, to infuse new virulence into religious rancour-to inflame national pride into frenzy-to frown peace from the land, and to give, as it were, the casting-voice for conducting a monarch to the scaffold-we do not think the Church of Rome has shown itself in a more menacing aspect than when her ecclesiastics assembled in Synod at Thurles, under the presidency of the Most Rev. Paul Cullen, Deputy Legate for his adventurous Holiness, Pius IX.

There may be some who will say, that our reference to the convulsive period of the great rebellion is altogether unsuited to the occasion. The time when Rinuccini came down on

the land, was a time when civil war was raging. It was war which called him hither, and he came armed and equipped for the field of literal, vulgar battle, as well as for the spiritual conflict in which he was to do a leader's duty. The Pope's Archbishop Cullen is not justly termed the successor of such a man. Our days are days of peace. Great Britain is powerfulinsurrection has proved a mockery and an abortion. The Church of Rome in Ireland has no such causes of complaint as exasperated her in the time of Charles I. On the contrary, Roman Catholics in Ireland have at this day, far more abundantly, causes of thankfulness to the Government, than their predecessors had grounds of complaint; and they have far better reason to expect good from a peaceable and loyal demeanour, than their coreligionists ever had to hope that they could profit by rebellion. How can such a state of things recall the remembrance of those evil and very dissimilar days, when a Papal Nuncio came commissioned to aggravate the miseries of a troubled time, and to impart to the horrors of civil dissension their most disastrous aspect?

It is only persons to whom (because they are thoughtless of the changes which time is continually making) "history is an old almanack,” who can indulge in such cavils or objections as these. Romanism is not infected by the vice of heedlessness. She has ever been a shrewd observer of the times. She understands the signs of the times well, and although, when the emergency demands, she will "brace on harness of battle," she courts more willingly the success which may be achieved by what appear to be processes of peace, and reckons on the permanence of such success more confidently. Here in Ireland she has been taught to know that, hitherto, in the open war of rebellion, her portion has been disaster, and that if some incidental advantages have accrued to her from such trials of strength, she has paid a most calamitous price for them. But here she has also learned that it is practicable to turn against the laws and institutions of the country agencies which the constitution leaves unfettered, and to make war by processes and instrumentalities which the freedom of the constitution accredits. She knows that great results are attainable in the legislature or the cabinet which

it would be madness to hope for in the field; and she knows, therefore, that he who would act the part of Rinuccini now, must seek his ends by measures widely different from those which that brilliant and unwise adventurer was daring enough to adopt, and by which he brought ruin on the cause and the party in whose service he professed to employ them.

So far as may be collected from public report, one main object of the Synod assembled at Thurles is to create estrangement between Roman Catholics and their Protestant brethren in Ireland. At least there should be, with the consent of Roman Catholic Priests and Bishops, no such agency to overcome principles of estrangement as that of united education. Rinuccini came to interdict and anathematise the peace which wise and good men had negociated between the rival churches in Ireland. Much progress had been made in or towards this benevolent enterprise when the Nuncio arrived. Protestants and Roman Catholics were becoming thoroughly convinced that in their conflicts and jealousy there was evil, only, to the Crown, the country, and themselves; and the fairest prospect seemed opening of the good which was sure to follow when feuds were discontinued, and principles of mutual forbearance generally diffused throughout a reconciled people. The presence of Rinuccini was fatal to the cause of order and good-will. His purpose was to consolidate Romanists of every grade, and class, and shade of opinion, into one people, and eventually to constitute them the nation, with the clergy as their rulers. If the estrangement between professors of the different religions were complete, and the resources of the ecclesiastics adequate, he felt assured that the whole kingdom could be soon cleansed of heresy. Is it rash to surmise an identity of purpose and of hope between the Nuncios of 1645 and of 1850? Can there be any doubt, that in defeating the government, and disconcerting their cherished scheme of national education, the president of the Synod recently dissolved anticipates the triumph of his Church, and the subjugation, if not conversion, of Protestants, English, perhaps, as well as Irish?

The spirit by which the Synod was animated, and the purpose it was designed to serve, can scarcely be misunderstood. They have been disclosed

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