]82L] 



. [ 335 J 



ORIGINAL POETRY. 



JOOLOAKs SONG. 



(Vide Capt. Parry's Voyage.) 

 BY J. R. PRIOR. 



" T WOULD not leave lionie, for my f;l- 



-*- tlier would cry ;" 



]\Iy friends lliey would mourn, and my 



niiiiden would die : 

 I would not leave home, though of ice and 



of snow, — 

 I have joys which no stranger can relish or 

 know : 

 I can gather my meal 

 From the walrus and seal, 

 All, why should I wander to Europe f " No, 

 no !" 



The beam of my slumbers,tlie spirit of sleep, 

 Is dear in the promise that safely 1 keep ; 

 I can traverse the isles in the gleaming of 



day, 

 And remember ray friends who are voyaged 

 away : 

 In my hut, by my oil, 

 I can rest from my toil, 

 Then why should I wander to Europe ? — 

 "Nay, nay!" 



My dogs they are faithful, my skins they 



are warm, — 

 The lips of my maiden, how sweetly tliey 



• charm ! 

 Suns will shine in the zone of Love's beau- 

 tiful dress. 

 And the heart with Love's eye-stars will 

 feelings express ; 

 Ah, why should I roara 

 From my treasures and home? 

 My sjjirit would break were my answer, 

 " Yes, yes !'' 

 Islington, April 14, 1824. 



LOVE AND WINE; 



BY UR. EUSBV. 



Love and Wine are the blessings of Life, 



Ev'ry bliss their enchantments bestow ; 

 They dissipate sorrow and strife. 



And yield ns a heaven below. 

 Hail, O Love ! hail the gay God of Wine, 



Whose enjoyments enkindle the soul ; 

 With thy roses embellish his shrine, 



And mingle bis sweets in thy bowl. 



THE SINGING MARINER; 



A Biilladfrom Ihe Spunisli. 



BY GEORGE ULAUS BORROW. 



Who will ever have again. 

 On the land or on the main, 

 Such a chance as happen'd to 

 Count Arnaldos long ago. 



With his falcon in his hand, 

 Forth he went along the tttrand, 

 There he saw a galley gay, 

 Krihkly bearint; for tlie bay; 

 Monthly Mag, No, J95. 



Ask me not her name and trade,— 

 All the sails of silk were made; 

 He w ho steer'd the ship along 

 Rais'd his voice, and sung a song; 



.Sung a song, whose magic force 

 Calm'd the breaker in its course ; 

 While the fishes, sore amaz'd, 

 Left their holes, and upward gaz'd ; 



And the fowl came Hocking fast 

 Round the summit of the mast ; 

 Still he sung to wind and wave, 

 "God preserve my vessel brave; 



" Guard her from the rocks that grow . 

 'Mid the sullen deep below ; 

 From the gust, and from the breeze, 

 Sweeping through Gibtarek'a seas; 



" From the gulph of Venice too, 

 With its shoals and waters blue ; 

 Where the mermaid chants herliymiij 

 Borne upon the billow's brim." 



Forward stept Arnaldos bold, 

 Thus he spoke, as I am told, 

 " Learn me, sailor, I entreat, 

 Yonder song that sounds so sweet.'* 



But the sailor shook his head, 

 Shook it thrice, and briefly said, 

 " Never will I teach the strain 

 But to him who ploughs the main." 



THE IRISH BARD'S LAMENT. 



Sweet Erin ! once more to your verdure-clad moun- 

 tains, 



Forsaking yon island,* with raptute I fly, . . 

 To ponder again on your crystaline fountains. 



And visit the spot wuere my ancestors lie. 

 For dear to my soul are your rose-enwreath'J 

 bowers, 



Where Love first beguil'd me with language too 

 warm ; 

 And dear to these eyes are those ivy-crown'd towers 



Now wasting before the rude breath of the Storm ' 

 For there in the days of my boyhood I wander'd, 



Tliere melted my soul with the Poet's soft ihtme, 

 Or o'er the dark course of thy destiny ponder'd, 



Till ages have vanisii'd away like a dream! 

 Oh! that I hjd never known wisdom brought sorrow, 



Piul squander'd my days in a less refin'd sphere. 

 Then pleasure would ever I'.ave gladden'd ihe 

 morrow , 



And smoothen'd the road of ray earthly career. 



But, Erin ! 1 bent to a courtier's persuasions, 

 W hen first my wrapi spirit to greatness inclin'd 



And found, in the end, that a world of evasions 

 Alone was beslow'd for the fruits of my mind. 



But away with complaining, — for here, lovely Erin ! 



In spile of the wrongs I have suller'd, 1 dwell 

 With a look of delight on those scenes, still en- 

 dearing, 

 Which charm'd my young heart when I bade thee 

 farewell. 



'n yon rose-cover'd haunt, wlien tlie day was 

 declining, 

 I've louch'd all alone my tnamour'd guitar, 

 And felt in that harbour my spirit repining 

 For Uic loss of Ihe sister of young Loclnnvar. 



In 



* England. 

 2X 



