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THE F.XH.E'S LAMENT. ^

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THE F.XH.E'S LAMENT. [FOR THE CUtPtFF AND MKIITilVii <;U AUDI AN'.] Bright visions of the past come crowding round my path, Anà rainbow-eoKurM hUf->S one fJin" vision hath; It is ef scones (/noc viow'd 1: tljj 3 Ion; since pass'd by. Of bright and sunny pastures 'ne.ith a blue a.ul smiling s!;y- Of corn-fields, .«h;«iy lanes, ,Lid Ùagraat fields "Id bovvers Of running hrouks and streams, i1llÙ own sweet wild H'.wers And ver'hnt \ll1",F; lij- 'midst mountains bleak and high, Whose barren heights would seem tu touch the fir-off distant sky, Oh once svjain I wander Yi forth, in heart and spirits free, And gaily trod nJY native SP;1 and laugh'd in very glee, To breathe th- IVesh 10 ailain air-to he;,r the song-bird's lay — To seek each IJa(ItJt, each lov'd retreat of childhood's happy day But now tIlt" scene grows ùi:n--it lingers —it i3 gone! 'Twas but a dream, but 'twill return, when twilight ercepeth on Aye, even in the day, in dust, and crüwù, aaù noise, The eity's rumbling din, that all repose destroys Aye, even then, amidst the throng fou:1 mem'ry loves t,) dwell "Cron some green, some sunny spot, once lov'd, remember'd well. Oh Wales dear, h"pp; land, my Iwart for thee still yearns, Still, still unto its mountain home in every wand'ring turns; And t)1()ugh, perhaps, to breathe thy air, again, it may not be For one who loves thy name,and mere thy c!\Îlùrel1 ùrilve and free; Yet may t hpre be some shady sput, beneath some spreading tree, Where, in the land I lov'd so well, mr rpsting place may be, MARY. THE VOICE OF DRUNKENNESS. I have passed thro' the city, I've swept o'er the plain, I have quaffed of the life-blood. l've counted my slain — la the homes úf the w,'alt11Y- tl1(' haunts of despair Gleam the lipids of my glory, fur 1 have been there. When the victor was strong in his mument uf pride, With hig laurels all fresh, 1 have sat by his sidl., 'Till the drop 1 had drugged, as it crept through his vein, Made him own that his death-throe a stronger had beed, When the revel Wets brightest, I lurked ia the throng I have laughed with the loudest, I've echoed the song; From the noblest, the proudest, I've earaed my fame- On the beautiful brow t bave chronicled" sI.ame." E'en the hut uf th" peasant 1'1'1' hovered above, O'er his turf-lighted hearth and the scenes of his love. When the burst of willI music from woman's lips stole, And the voices uf childhood rang deep in the suul. As I entered the circle they died in a wail, And the shrieks of the desolate swept on the gale; While gaunt famine and fever came swiftly at hand. To reap the broad harvest I'd sown in the land. 1 have laughed the fond hope of the young- heart to scorn; And the mother I've taught tu forget her first-born; In her heart i have poisoned love's holiest springs. Oh what triumph like this can parth yield to her kings ? Hast thou been in the cell where the murdercr lies, As he eounts on the dial the moment he dies ? Sought ye, then, by what temper hell's work was begun, And his spirit mitde meet fùr the deed he had done When the laugh of the maniac is echuing high. While the wild-tire of genius still flits in bis ere, As he sits down and gnaws the strong fetters that bind- Be my temple built there, 'mid the ruin of my mind And doubt ye, ye sceptic, the arches of hell Echo back the dark story, its lost ones can tell ? Oh for ever-for evpr-onr doom to drink up All the strong wrath of Gud, in the dregs of that cup." Irish NutioTzal Magazine.

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VISIT OF HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS…

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H 0 USE 0 F LOR D S.—Tuesday.

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SMIIMFIELD MARKEr>S—Monday.