It seemed as if every sweet note, that died here,
Was again brought to life in some airier sphere,
Some heaven in those hills, where the soul of the strain
They had ceased upon earth was awaking again!
Oh forgive, if, while listening to music, whose breath
Seemed to circle his name with a charm against death,
He should feel a proud Spirit within him proclaim,
"Even so shalt thou live in the echoes of Fame:
"Even so, tho' thy memory should now die away,
'Twill be caught up again in some happier day,
And the hearts and the voices of Erin prolong,
Through the answering Future, thy name and thy song."
[1] Written during a visit to Lord Kenmare, at Killarney.
FAIREST! PUT ON AWHILE.
Fairest! put on awhile
These pinions of light I bring thee,
And o'er thy own green isle
In fancy let me wing thee.
Never did Ariel's plume,
At golden sunset hover
O'er scenes so full of bloom,
As I shall waft thee over.
Fields, where the Spring delays
And fearlessly meets the ardor
Of the warm Summer's gaze,
With only her tears to guard her.
Rocks, thro' myrtle boughs
In grace majestic frowning;
Like some bold warrior's brows
That Love hath just been crowning.
Islets, so freshly fair,
That never hath bird come nigh them,
But from his course thro' air
He hath been won down by them;--[1]
Types, sweet maid, of thee,
Whose look, whose blush inviting,
Never did Love yet see
From Heaven, without alighting.
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