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• To rise no more," and what should damp the fire Of freedom in the soul, and quench the spark, The heaven-born spark of liberty divire?

Oh! what is life without the kindling glow
Of conscious independence, birth-right dear

Of ev'ry child of earth! My native land!

May Heav'n soon wipe away the cloud that hides,
In deepest shades, thy suff'rings and thy wrongs.

But see, Erina, with a sylphic tread,

And harp, light o'er her graceful shoulder thrown, The myrtle arbour seeks, where oft, amidst

The balmy ordour of umbrageous shrubs,

She loves to waste the peaceful hour, and dream

Of him, the tender youth, who bide her breast

With warmth enthusiastic swell. Hark! hark!

Her flying fingers touch the lyre, and thus,
In accents wildly sweet, to seraph voice
Melodious tuned, in echoing tones, she breathes.


Oh! what are the pleasures this bosom has known,

Since first


dear Oscar declared he was mine,

Since first I would languish to hear the sweet tone,

In which he would falter, “ Erina, I'm thine!"

How blest do I feel, when together we rove,

Amid the green arbour, or down the lone vale;
For sweet are his accents, his eyes speak of love,

And my heart beats concordant to every soft tale.

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But late when we wandered along by the shore,

Where grandeur and beauty the footstep invite; How talked he of blessings that love had in store,

And painted the joys of domestic delight!


So gallant is Oscar, his soul so sincere,

So raptured, yet modest, his looks when he sues,

That, oh! it is heaven his language to hear,

And when he solicits, what maid could refuse?

O Love, be propitious, attend to my sigh,

A maiden petitions thee, all-potent boy! . May the vows of my Oscar be written on high,

And no wayward fate their fulfilment destroy.

So, blest with my Oscar, a stranger to care,

The sweets of endearment thro' life we'll


Existence in stable enjoyments we'll wear,

And bid to the world and its nonsense adieu!

Scarce died upon the breeze the melting strain,

Ere Oscar, gently breaking thro' the shades,

Before the rosy-featured minstrel stands,
Entranced, awhile, with rapturous delight,

And love ineffable. But soon, alas!

Upon his thoughtful brow appears a cloud
Of care portentous, and his altered gaze
Bespeaks some pressure on the soul, some tale
Mysterious of fate. With-sad affright,

Erina eyes the gathering gloom, that seems To blast her ev'ry fondest dream of bliss, To threat her Oscar's peace; and while her looks Beseech detail, the youth subjoins, “ My love, « The present safety of my native land, « The glory of my country bids me hence, To wield the sword against the cruel foe';

“ That now invades our favoured soil, and dares,

• To seize our independence, and despoil
« Us of our laws, our rights, our happiness -

“ With joy I hail the sacred call; with joy

“ This arm, once more, I raise in such a cause;

* For, oh! how sweet, when liberty invites

• Exertion for our country's good, to brave

“ The roughest toils, endure the worst of ills,

- And even waste our latest breath and die!

" But, ah! the thought, sweet maid! of leaving thee, “ In such a time, unguarded, and exposed

• To ev'ry chance of war, my courage chills,

And palls exertion.--Then, O grant me, Heaven, “ To bear this shock of fate with equal mind, " As should become Iveagh's chief; let not “ My hardy partners in the war, my brave

" Associates in the field of danger, say,

" That Oscar's high-born soul has sunk “ From former fame, by arts effeminate,

Unmanly grief. I go, my love, I rear “ Me from thy fascinating form, in which

“ Are centred all my hopes of happiness,

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