THOSE EVENING BELLS

TH

HOSE evening bells! those evening bells!
How many a tale their music tells,
Of youth, and home, and that sweet time
When last I heard their soothing chime.

Those joyous hours are passed away;
And many a heart that then was gay
Within the tomb now darkly dwells,
And hears no more those evening bells.

And so 'twill be when I am gone;
That tuneful peal will still ring on,
While other bards shall walk these dells,
And sing your praise, sweet evening bells!

R

REMEMBER THEE

EMEMBER thee? Yes; while there's life in this heart

It shall never forget thee, all lorn as thou art; More dear in thy sorrow, thy gloom, and thy showers, Than the rest of the world in their sunniest hours.

Wert thou all that I wish thee—great, glorious, and free,

First flower of the earth, and first gem of the seaI might hail thee with prouder, with happier brow; But oh, could I love thee more deeply than now?

No; thy chains as they rankle, thy blood as it runs, But make thee more painfully dear to thy sons, Whose hearts, like the young of the desert-bird's nest,

Drink love in each life-drop that flows from thy breast.

THE HARP THAT ONCE THROUGH

TARA'S

HALLS

HE harp that once through Tara's halls
The soul of music shed,

Now hangs as mute on Tara's walls

As if that soul were fled.

So sleeps the pride of former days,
So glory's thrill is o'er;

And hearts that once beat high for praise
Now feel that pulse no more.

No more to chiefs and ladies bright
The harp of Tara swells;

The chord alone that breaks at night
Its tale of ruin tells.

Thus Freedom now so seldom wakes
The only throb she gives

Is when some heart indignant breaks,
To show that still she lives.

OH! BREATHE NOT HIS

NAME

H! breathe not his name,-let it sleep in the

shade,

Where cold and unhonored his relics are laid;

Sad, silent, and dark, be the tears that we shed,
As the night-dew that falls on the grass o'er his

head.

But the night-dew that falls, though in silence it

weeps,

Shall brighten with verdure the grave where he sleeps;

And the tear that we shed, though in secret it rolls, Shall long keep his memory green in our souls.