MR. EDITOR.

The following verses were composed by that unfortunate Son of Genius, Thomas Dermody, at the unripened age of twelve, please to rescue them from Oblivion's Bed, by inserting them in your publi

cation;

TO THE EDITOR OF THE IRISH MAGAZINE.

Sir,

By giving the following ballad a place in your truly excellent Magazine, you shall oblige, Cashel, Dec. 15. 1809.

AN ELEGIAC BAL AD.

O. HUMILITAS.

The night was silent. Heaven's silver Queen shone forth in her loveliness. Rose, the White Bosom'd Maid' of Tra, lovely as the lilly of the Valley, walk'd on the trembling rivers bans; the polished mirror glides along, the silvery curls, betimes arise, the breathing air sighs, and sorrow pours on the virgins heart.-But come thou soft voice of Green robed Erin, let it be thy pleasing taste to sing the deeds of the lovely.

For Tara's fair daughter his bofom did beat;
For Rofe, that was fair, as the fweet

OSSIAN, Junr.

Like lightning the few o'er the enamell'd mead:

To hear if her lover, her Ryno was dead,

To the Wizzard the cries, "O tell me, O tell,

"Shall my Ry no no more be reflored to my eyes

"Yes, yes, when a fpirit fhell toll the great bell,

Of you mouldering Abbey," the Wizzard replies.

Twice, thrice he repeated, "your Ryno fhall
Tife,"

While Rofe felt a moments release from

her pain,

She wired, while he liftened, the tears frem

When with wan drooping diamonds, and fil Young Ryno, the pride of the Heroes of

blishing dawn;

very feet:

fame,

Profufe of his country's blond and treafure,
Improvident in every Measure.

Tho' ever baffled, fill pefevering

Till, Albion drain'd ne plunder'd Erin.

ON THE DESTRUCTION OF THE IMPERIAL PALACE OF BLEAWLAND, PULLED DOWN BY A

SCOTCHMAN.

"Regia Bieawis erat sub limibus alta Columnis
"Clara micante auro, flamasque iwitate pyropo :—Ovid

"The Bleaw's bright Palace on high columns rais'd”
"With burning Gold and flaming Jewels blazed.”-

-Addison.

11100000000-→→

Say ruthlefs Scot what more than Gothic hate?
Could thee impel to raze our Empire's Seat;
That dome Imperial whofe exalted Spire,
The eyes of gladden'd Bleaw's did eft admire :
Its floors mofaic, richly hirophied Walls,
Its gilded pilafters and ttoried balls;
Nor all the glories of the prefeut Reign,
Could once thy fell and impions rage reftrain;
Crumbled to its bafe the Royal Ruin lies,
Like Diaus Temple doom'd ne'er more to rife.
No more to Bacchus at the Midnigh, hour,
Shall pious Bleaws the due libation pour,
No more fhall Momus at the feast preside;

And deafenning ba'as the doubtful point decide:
For this foul deed, Oh Caledonian Wight,

May Irish Beef ne'er fate thy appetite,

The fate of Tantalus fliil be thy Lot,

Thy Crimes fit meed lhou itcbing fcratching Scot.

PHMDFLX.

* Ba'ss, a new species of Logic, invented by the Right Hon, Visconnt Guzzle: well, Earl Swallowdown.

'This I wrote on the occasion of an Old Tavern being pulled down where a social Club, called the Bleaus, used to hold their sittings-as it has been only published in this way-if you have not better-it may be inserted-1 have other matters in forwardness.

SONG