THE

SONGS OF IRELAND.

Second Series.

THE HEAVEN OF SONG.

Song.

MRS. TIGHE

THE day was fading into rest;

The waves had sunk to their repose;

And in the regions of the blest,

The evening star serenely rose.

Soft sounds were floating on the air,

As though some seraph voice were near ;
Tidings of heaven they seemed to bear,
And dull the eye that shed no tear.

Methinks that, wafted by their breath,
The spirit, fired, could soar above-
Dissolve, without the pang of death,
And fade into a dream of love.
And kindred souls, that jointly feel,
Seem mingled in that heaven of song;

Closer their bonds of fondness steal

Their thoughts more pure, their love more strong.

B

Oh, music! every tender mind
Hallows thy magic with a sigh;
The tear, so guiltless and refined,
Glitters in beauty's angel eye;
And love, enchanter of the earth,
Breathes his own eloquence in thine,
Often thy charms have given him birth-
Sweetened by thee, he is divine.

BEAUTY.

Song.

Oh! beauty, in all lands and time,
Enchantress of the heart,

Why does your Eden-breathing prime,
In grief so oft depart?

Your snowy bosom, formed to bless,
The home of woe appears;
And like the rainbow's loveliness,
Seems born to bloom in tears.

You urge dark envy's secret stroke,
But do not ward the blow;
A thousand dangers you invoke,

But safety's path ne'er show.

Like those bright plumes the ostrich wears, That tempt the hunter's eye,

And gird the bird with deadly snares,

Yet aid it not to fly.