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LXXXVII. — THE WAR-SONG OF DINAS VAUR.
The mountain sheep are sweeter,
But the valley sheep are fatter;
To carry off the latter !
We met a host, and quelled it ;
And killed the men who held it.
Where herds of kine were browsing,
To furnish our carousing.
We met them and o'erthrew them ;
But we conquered them and slew them.
The king marched out to catch us
But his people could not match us.
And e'er our force we led off,
While others cut his head off.
Spilt blood enough to swim in;
And widowed many women.
We glutted with our foemen ;
and the bowmen.
And much the land bemoaned them -
And the head of him who owned them :
His head was borne before us,
His overthrow, our chorus.
ANON. THE BRIDAL OF MALAHIDE.
LXXXVIII. - THE BRIDAL OF MALAHIDE. The joy-bells are ringing in gay Malahide, The fresh wind is singing along the sea-side; The maids are assembling with garlands of flowers, And the harp-strings are trembling in all the glad bowers. Swell, swell the gay measure ! roll trumpet and drum! 'Mid greetings of pleasure in splendor they come ! The chancel is ready, the portal stands wide, For the lord and the lady, the bridegroom and bride. Before the high altar young Maud stands arrayed ! With accents that falter her promise is made From father and mother for ever to part, For him and no other to treasure her heart. The words are repeated, the bridal is done, The rite is completed - the two, they are one; The vow, it is spoken all pure from the heart, That must not be broken till life shall depart. Hark! 'mid the gay clangor that compassed their car,* Loud accents in anger come mingling afar ! The foe's on the border! his weapons resound Where the lines in disorder unguarded are found ! As wakes the good shepherd, the watchful and bold, When the ounce or the leopard is seen in the fold, So rises already the chief in his mail, While the new-married lady looks fainting and pale. “Son, husband, and brother, arise to the strife, For sister and mother, for children and wife ! O’er hill and o'er hollow, o'er mountain and plain, Up, true men, and follow ! let dastards remain !” Farrah ! to the battle ! They form into line The shields, how they rattle! the spears, how they shine ! Soon, soon shall the foeman his treachery rue On, burgher and yeoman! to die or to do! The eve is declining in lone Malahide : The maidens are twining gay wreaths for the bride ;
* At the fifth stanza the speaker's delivery should become louder and more rapid. The young chieftain's summons (seventh stanza) should be loud, bold, and stirring. There is opportunity for several effective changes of intonation in this piece.
She marks them unheeding - her heart is afar,
But, O! for the maiden who mourns for that chief,
Ye maidens attending, forbear to condole!
GERALD GRIFFIN (altered).
LXXXIX. — THE SUITOŘ DISENCHANTED. “O, LAURA ! will nothing I bring thee
E'er soften those looks of disdain ? Are the songs of affection I sing thee
All doomed to be sung thee in vain ? I offer thee love the sincerest,
The warmest, ere glowed upon earth ; O! smile on thy votary, dearest !
0! crush not his hope in its birth ! But the maiden, a haughty look flinging,
Said, “ Cease my compassion to move; For I'm not very partial to singing;
And they ’re poor whose sole treasure is love ! »
FREEDOM FOR EUROPE.
My name will be sounded in story ;.
I offer thee, dearest, my name :
And loves thee wherever thou art,
Of tenderness fresh from the heart."
Give Cupid the use of his wings;
And hearts are such valueless things !”
Too boldly — nay, turn not away -
heart with affliction is broken
Has died and — has left me - his heir ! "
Do, Edward, go on with your song !”
And here shall my passion end, toc ;
It shall bend to another than you.
To be loved for myself, — do not sigh !
Fair Laura, excuse me -good-by!”
XC. - FREEDOM FOR EUROPE.
And Freedom find no champion and no child
Sprang forth a Pallas, armed and undefiled ? * To preserve the metrical harmony and the rhyme of the verse, the accent in this word must be here put on the second syllable ; but the proper pronunciation is im-por-tune'.
Or must such minds be nourished in the wild,
Of cataracts, where nursing Nature smiled
And fatal have her saturnalia been
Because the deadly days which we have seen,
between Man and his hopes an adamantine wall,
And the base pāgeant, last upon Are
grown the pre'text for the eternal thrall Which nips life’s tree, and dooms man's worst - his second fall !
Yet, Freedom ! yet thy banner, torn, but flying,
Streams like the thunder-storm against the wind ; Thy trumpet voice, though broken now and dying,
The loudest still the tempest leaves behind !
Thy tree hath lost its blossoms, and the rind,
But the sap lasts, — and still the seed we find
- TOO LATE I STAYED.
Too late I stayed — forgive the crime ;
Unheeded flew the hours ;
That only treads on flowers !
What eye with clear account remarks
The ebbing of his glass,
That dazzle as they pass ?
Ah! who to sober measurement
Time's happy swiftness brings,
W. R. SPINCER.