1825.} 
And in that gentle bosom place 
This symbol—dear to all your race : 
~ And there ’twill seem—too-lovely girl !— 
An emerald on a bed of pearl. 
What tho’ ’twas rear’d ’mid sun and smile, 
The growth of Encrann’s happier isle— 
Where Feud nor Faction rose to slight it, 
Nor sullen Slavery breathed to blight it? 
Yet, O! it bears owr Shamrock’s form ; 
That plant unscathed by strife or storm— 
’Mid every fitful change the same, 
In days of glory, or in shame! 
Yes! ’mid our country’s gloom and grief, 
Still flourish’d fair her triple leaf: 
As tho’ her children’s bitter tears, 
Shed thro’ a lapse of lingering years, 
Had fertiliz’d the teeming earth, 
From whence her shamrock sprang to birth. 
Distain’d with blood, ’mid party strife, 
It still maintain’d its verdant life; 
And, trampled long by home-bred foes, 
Elastic from their tread arose. 
And Erin’s se/f shall thus arise, 
Despite of serpent-enemies— 
Who, in her bosom warm’d to breath, 
Would sting the nurturing heart to death. 
Lo! where her bow of hope appears 
Bright thro’ the mist of patriot tears! 
On England’s rock of justice, see 
The ark of Erin’s liberty ! 
The waves subside, her sorrows cease, 
And soon the gentle bird of peace 
Shall back the emergent olive bear, 
And Erin’s future day be fair. 
Yes! our lov’d country shall be free 
From bondage, and from bigotry :— 
Like Greece, releas’d from Moslem chain, 
To run a glorious course again— 
Freed from the clouds of mental night, 
And bless’d with liberty and light! 
Oh! we have seen on Grorce’s breast 
“ The green immortal shamrock” rest— 
No time can that proud day efface 
He met his Erin’s warm embrace: * 
And, while her sons around him throng’d— 
A race so faithful, and so wrong’d!— 
We mark’d too, in his glist’ning eye, 
The tear of generous sympathy— 
A dearer far, a brighter gem, 
Than glitters in his diadem ! 
Receive then, with your wonted smile, 
This emblem, dear to Erin’s isle ; 
And if one tear its leaves display, 
That smile will chase the tear away. 
And, O! these rude duil lines forgive, 
Sweet Maid! whose polish’d lays shall live, 
Whilst genius, wit, and taste refin’d, 
Maintain their empire o’er the mind. 
Yes! like this plant, that blooming grows 
’ Neath summer suns and winter snows, 
Your wreath of fame shall still be seen— 
A nation’s pride,—and ever green! L.L.T.. 
London, March 1, 1825. 
* The day of his Majesty’s public entry into Dublin. , 
Original Poetry. 533 
TO ALICE. 
Farewett ! a long, a sad farewell ! 
We met with smiles, with tears we part; 
Soon nothing will be left to tell 
The pangs of either ruin’d heart. 
Calm as the still’d and waveless deep, 
When by the passing gust has blown, 
Unmark’d, the eye will turn to weep 
O’er days that have so swiftly flown. 
Remember me,—remember me,— 
My latest thought will be for thee. 
The lips which thou hast fondly prest, 
Another’s ne’er shall press again ; 
Nor Love, that link’d me with the blest, 
Be darken’d with an earthly stain. 
No, as the scroll above the dead, 
The dream of parted joys will last ; 
There is a bliss, now love has fled, 
To trace this record of the past. 
Then, oh, ’mid all, remember me,— 
My latest thought will be for thee. 
Life hath been as a cloudy day ; 
Yet still it hath not all been gloom, 
For many a wild and broken ray 
Hath cheer’d awhile my spirit’s doom, 
As flow’rets on a river’s rim, 
Whose shadows deck each passing wave, 
Thought lingers on, perturb’d and dim :— 
Or sunbeam resting on a graye : 
Remember me,—remember me,— 
My latest thought will be for thee. 
Where’er my feet may wander now, 
No more awakes the slightest care ;— 
It matters not, for still wilt thou 
Be present ’mid my heart’s despair ; 
So springs and blooms, in lonely state, 
Some flow’ret on a roofless cot, 
And decks with smile, tho’ desolate, 
The gloomy stillness of the spot. 
Remember me,—remember me,— 
My latest thought will be for thee. 
The breeze will waft me from the land, 
From thee and thine—from all I fly ; 
And there will be no friendly hand, 
In dying hour, to close mine eye. 
Borne on the dark and foamy deep, 
Oft shall I watch the pale moonlight; 
Still fancying that thou dost keep 
Thy gaze upon the queen of night. 
Remember me,—remember me,— 
My latest thought will be for thee. 
A ringlet of thy raven hair, 
The record of a brighter hour, 
There yet remains, my grief to share, 
The silent witness of its pow’r ; 
To look on it yet leaves a thrill, 
And proyes my soul deep, deep imbued 
With love, that time can never still,— 
Which months of tears have not subdued. 
Remember me,—remember me,— 
My latest thought will be for thee. 
Though calm the eye, and still the tongue,— 
It needs not that the cheek be pale 
To prove the heart by feelings wrung, . 
And brooding o’er a hopeless tale. - 
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