VI.

O vain and idle prayer! To give
Unbounded spirit bounds to live!
Where liv'st thou not? Let pedants tell,
That only shut in Learning's cell,
Or in the Minstrel's lighter spell,
Thy magic shines confest;

Still let them pour their narrow strife;
Thou liv'st wherever man has life!
Wherever love can warm the breast,
Where'er the hero's glories rest;
Where'er the peasant's mountain nest,
Is snatched from tyranny..

Yes! from Arabia's burning zone,

To where from giant nature's gorgeous throne,
The northern Indian views lake, river, tree,
Majestic as the sky's bright panoply,
And calls them all his own,

The earth his vassal, man, man only free!
Yes, even there, or on the Lapland rock,
Which seems the sounding surge to mock,
The fisher whose unceasing toil,

From ocean plucks his scanty spoil,

And, like the eagle in his eyrie shares,

With one dear mate his joys, his griefs, his cares;

Yes even with him, blest Genius, may'st thou dwell,

And though the grand ideas that swell

His bursting spirit, scarce his tongue can tell,

Yet not extinct, tho' smothered is thy flame,

And brighter the wild flash that none may claim,
And dearer is its power,

To cheer the toilsome hour,

Than the forced sickly blaze that lends wit's flickering

fame.

Genius! presumptuous reason may not dare
Thy bounds to scan;

But where is love, and liberty, and man,
Genius, thou wilt be there!

IMPROMPTU

WRITTEN IN THE

IRISH MELODIES OF MY DAUGHTER, S. I. 1809.

BY EYLES IRWIN, ESQ.

THO' o'er the wild notes of thy native isle,
The novel grace of STEVENSON be thrown;
As beauty points her arrows with a smile,

And VENUS Ow'd her witchcraft to a zone:
Tho' still the strain of CAROLAN must charm,
Your song, IERNE's daughters! still endure;
Pure, as it flows, with richer colours warm,
With all the wit and elegance of MOORE:

Yet, to these MELODIES, from chasten'd art,
SELINA'S magic harp! shall praise redound—
Haste, strike the chords! and to the feeling heart
The light of taste convey, and soul of sound!

REPLY TO A POEM OF LORD VAUX.

"I LOATH THAT I HAVE LOV'D," &c.

BY J. THELWALL, ESQ.

I.

I Do not loath that I have lov'd,
Tho' years came stealing on;
Or that the sweetest joys I prov'd,
Ere time of joy was gone.

II.

I do not loath that I have lov'd,
Or that my love was fair;
For love's return to me hath prov'd
The balm of every care,

Ill.

How can I loath the love I bore
To innocence and truth?-
Or my own envious age, deplore
The blessings of my youth ?-

IV.

For let but virtue, hand in hand
With youthful passion go,-

The love that's knit with reason's band
Repentance ne'er shall know.

V.

Then, Stella! tho' the fires decay
That lit me to thy arms,
Nor distant far the envious day'
Shall dim thy mellowing charms;

VI.

71

Tho' youthful joys return no more,
Rememberance shall remain,
And past delights recounted o'er,
Shall give delight again.

VII.

Let Memory, then, the record true
Of youthful passion bring,
And o'er the wintery hearth, renew
The blooming hours of spring.

ΤΟ

FROM THE FRENCH OF CHAULIEU.

O TELL me not, with groundless fear,
That, bending to some other beauty,
I may forget you once were dear,

And vow to her my tender duty.
No, loveliest! no! for though the youth,
Who sees thy charms, may break for ever
All former vows of plighted truth,
Faithless again shall he be never.

R. A. DAVENPORT.

BALLAD.

THE LOVER'S COMPLAINT. TO MISS H. B. 1778.

BY EYLES IRWIN, ESQ.

O!

WHAT shall my feelings declare ?
O! how shall I number my woes?
Since I caught such a glance of the fair,
As has banish'd all hope of repose.
At beauty how oft have I gaz'd,
Of beauty, how oft have I sung:
For beauty was form'd to be prais'd,
And her smiles to unfetter the tongue!

Hither throng, all ye tender desires!
Ye Muses! ye Loves! hither throng;
HONORIA awakens my fires,

'Tis HONORIA who merits the song.
But all my endeavours are vain ;
"Twere madness her praises to scale
A poet! and not breathe a strain—
A lover! and courage to fail!-

1

But what would avail all his art,

;

When the poet considers the theme? The lover with firmness might part, Whose happiness seems but a dream!