"But Heav'n, at last, my soul's eclipse Did with a vision bright inspire: I woke, and felt upon my lips Thrice in the east a war-drum beat, "And go! I cried, the combat seek, For sooner guilt the ordeal brand But that a spirit o'er me stood, And fir'd me with the wrathful mood; To speak the malison of heav'n. "They would have cross'd themselves all mute, They would have pray'd to burst the spell; But at the stamping of my foot Each hand down pow'rless fell, And go to Athunree !* I cried, That mantles by your walls, shall be Away! away to Athunree! Where downward when the sun shall fall The raven's wing shall be your pall; And not a vassal shall unlace The vizor from your dying face! "A bolt that overhung our dome *The battle fought in 1314, which decided the fate of Ireland. Dire was the look that o'er their backs. But once again in heav'n the bands "Stranger! I fled the home of grief, I'll hunt my quarry in the wild; THE SOLDIER'S DREAM. OUR bugles sang truce-for the night cloud had low'r'd, And the sentinel stars set their watch in the sky; And thousands had sunk on the ground overpow'r'd, The weary to sleep, and the wounded to die. When reposing that night on my pallet of straw, Methought from the battle-field's dreadful array, I flew to the pleasant fields travers'd so oft In life's morning march, when my bosom was young; I heard my own mountain-goats bleating aloft, And knew the sweet strain that the corn-reapers sung. Then pledg'd we the wine-cup, and fondly I swore From my home and my weeping friends never to part; My little one's kiss'd me a thousand times o'er, And my wife sobb'd aloud in her fulness of heart. Stay, stay with us-rest, thou art weary and worn :- |