E96 
Child o” the flattering Spring, o'er thee Il 
wend, . 
And foftly tell a fyxtpatheiic tale 5 
Then o'cr thy faded beauties weeping bend, 
And will thee fifter of my fortune hail 5,” 
Ah! chat like thee'too, [ could clofe mine ec, 
find never mair life’s braitling™ tempefts fee. 
Soft blaws the gale upon mine opening years, 
And fancy’s dezz’iing meteor rays 
Glint + gaily en the diftant world, 
And promiles me genial days; 
That youthful pleafure in my bofom glowers,t 
Soft’ning the fairy fcene wi’ raptures tender 
fhowers. 
*Mong yon rude rocks above the clouds, 
Warm pafliog bigh an altar rear’d 
To noble Fri endthip’ ’s holy name; 
And foon the cherub Hope appcar’d 
Twining wi rofy wreathes the hallow’d fane, 
And feng of{weets that fhould for age remain. 
* * * * 
ea is o’er, “Fhe ftorm defcends 
And ah the fyren Hope is gane! 
On my cold breaft ik fiowrer fades, 
lik infant joy is 7 the wane, 
And now I yicld me to the tempefi’s rave, 
And envy thee, pale, wintry flow’r, thy 
quiet grave. RusTIca. 
= 
THE MANIAC. 
AS I firay’d o’er acommen on Cork’s rugged 
border, 
- While the dew-drops of morn the fweet 
primrofe array dy 
¥ faw a poor female, whofe mental diforder 
Her guick glancing eye and wild afpe& 
ee - 
On the {ward fhe reclin’ d, by the green fern 
furrounded, 
At her fide fpeckled daifies and crow-flowers 
abounded ; 
To its inmoft re els her poor heart had been 
wounded, 
. Her fighs were unceafing,-’twas Mary le 
More 
-Her charms by the keen blafts of forrow were 
faded. 
Yet the foft tinge of beauty ftill play’d on 
her cheek ; 
Her trefies a ream of pale primrofes braided, 
Ana firings of frefh daifies hung loofe on 
her neck 5 
While with pity I-gaz °d, fhe exclaim’d ¢* Oh! 
my mother! ! 
«¢ See the biood on that lafh, ’tis the blond of 
my brother ; 
s¢ They have torn his poer flefh, and they 
now ftrip anecther 5 
«6 °Tis Consor ; the triend of poor Mary le 
Meore!” 
pot WO ee N ene eee Ne 
* Brattle, in the Scottith dialed, to rage. 
+ Glint, to peep. 
{ Glower, to beam or fparkle. 
‘e 
% 
Original Poetry. 
(Jan. T, 
his locks are as white as the foam of 
the ocean, 
‘© Thofe foldiers fhali 
is brave ; 
*« My father?” the cry’d with the wildett 
emotion, 
“¢ Ah.! no, my poor father now fleeps in the 
grave ; 
< They have toll’d his death-bell, 
laid the turf o’er him 35 
¢ His white locks were bloody, no aid can 
reftore him; 5 
“6 He is gone ! He is gone ! and the good will 
deplore him, 
‘¢ When the blue wave of Exin hides Mary 
le More.’? 
“Tho” 
find that my father 
they’ve 
A lark, from the gold bloffom7d furze that 
grew near her, 
Now rofe, and with energy caroli’d his lay3 
** Hufh! hufh!” the continued, ‘* the trum- 
pet founds clearer; 
‘¢ The horfemen approach ; Erin’s daugh- 
ters, away !” 
Ah! Britons, twas foul, while the cabin was 
burning, 
And o’er her pale father a wretch had been 
mourning ! 
Go hide with the fea-me 
Warning, 
Thofe ruffians have ruin’d poor Mary le 
More. 
w, ye maids,and take 
*¢ Away! bring the ointment! @h! God! 
fee thofe gathes ! 
‘¢ Alas! my poor brother, come dry the 
big tear: 
«¢ Anon weil have vengeance for thofe 
dreadful lathes, 
‘¢ Already the fcreech-owls and ravens 
appear ; 
6¢ By day the green grave, that lies under the 
willow, 
‘¢ With wild flowers PH ftrew, and by night 
make my pillow, 
¢¢ Till the ooze and dark fea-weed, beneath 
the curl’d billow, 
¢¢ Shall furnifh a death-bed for Mary le 
More.” 
Thus rav’d the poor Maniac in tones more 
heart-rending 
Than Sanity’s voice ever pourd on my 
ears 
lo! on the wafte, and their march 
to’ards her bending, 
A troop of fierce cavalry chane’d to appear. 
6‘ Oh! the fiends!” fhe exclaim’d, and with 
wild horror ftarced, 
Then thro’, the tall fern, loudly fcreaming, 
fhe darted ; 
With an overcharg’d bofom,I flowly departed, 
And figh’d for the wrongs of poor Mary le 
More. 
Whén, 
SONNEP 
