For me,"

Says she,

"Oh, isn't he a darling-the bowld sojer boy."

The glory of his corps, like a bowld sojer boy!

THE BANSHEE'S WAIL.

Mrs. DOWNING.

THY life was like the mountain stream,
That in the rocky dell has birth,
Now rushing, while its waters gleam,
Exulting in the sun's warm beam;
And, when its wild waves brightest seem,
Dark sinking in its native earth.

Who, now, shall bid the clansmen speed
The signal and the gathering-cry?
Who, now, shall rein the stalworth steed?

Who, now, shall urge the glorious deed?
Who, now, the warrior clans shall lead,
When the battle-shout is nigh?

Though many a noble one lies dead-
Though groaning heaps around thee lie-
Though many a gallant chief, who led
His clans, o'er night, has bravely bled;
Though many a daring soul has fled—

Yet, oh! what were they all to thee?

The day-beam breaks on the green hill side,
And gleams o'er hill and river;
And the Saxon banner is floating wide-
With the blood of the hapless heroes dyed;
But M'Caura's boast, and M'Caura's pride,*
Is faded, and lost, for ever.

*

* M'Caura is the ancient name of M'Carthy. The fair authoress seems to take a deep interest in the valiant sept of M'Caura;-see her song of "The Mother to her Son," in this collection.

WHEN THIS OLD CAP WAS NEW.

SAMUEL FERGUSON, M.R.I.A.

SINCE this old cap was new,
Now fifty-two long years,

(It was at the review

Of the Dublin Volunteers,)
There have been brought to pass
With us a change or two;
They're altered times, alas !
Since this old cap was new.

Our Parliament did sit
Then in our native land,
What good came of the loss of it
I cannot understand;

Although full plain I see

That changes not a few
Have fallen on the countrie
Since this old cap was new.

They are very worthy fellows
(And much I'd be distrest
To think them else) who tell us
That all is for the best;

Though full as ill inclined,

Now the bargain's closed, to rue,
Yet I can't but call the times to mind
When this old cap was new.

What rights we wanted then
Were asked for above board,
By a hundred thousand gentlemen,
And render'd at the word.
'Twas thus in fair day-light,
With all the world to view,
We claimed and gained our right,
When this old cap was new! *

But patriots now-a-days,

And state reformers, when
A starving people's cry they raise,
Turn out like trenchermen.
Ah! we'd have done the work,
If it had been to do,

With other tool than spoon or fork,
When this old cap was new.

The nobles of the country

Were then our neighbours near,
And 'mong us squires and gentry
Made always jolly cheer!
Ah! every night, at some one's
Or other's, was a crew
Of merry lords and commons,
When this old cap was new.

They're altered times entirely,
As plainly now appears;
Our landlord's face we barely see
Past once in seven years.
And now the man meets scorn
As his coat is green or blue;
We had no need our coats to turn
When this old cap was new.

Good counsel to propose

I have but little skill;

Yet, ere a vain lament I close,

In humble trust, I will

*This refers to the Declaration of Irish Independence in 1782; which is alluded to, more fully, in a note to "Our Island ;"-showing, by this repeated reference, how fondlyberished is the memory of that glorious event.

Beseech for all His aid,

Who knows what all should do;
And pray, as I have often prayed,
When this old cap was new.

Among the "Roxburgh Songs and Ballads" there is a black-letter copy of a song entitled "When this old Cap was new," dated A.D. 1666, the author unknown. Mr. Ferguson has adopted only the title and the manner of this old song; the matter is perfectly original, and very superior to the old model.

CUSHLA MA CHREE.

Right Hon. JOHN PHILPOT Curran.

Air, "The Bank of Green Rushes."

DEAR Erin, how sweetly thy green bosom rises,
An emerald set in the ring of the sea,
Each blade of thy meadows my faithful heart prizes,
Thou queen of the west, the world's cushla ma chree.*
Thy gates open wide to the poor and the stranger—
There smiles hospitality, hearty and free;

Thy friendship is seen in the moment of danger,
And the wand'rer is welcomed with cushla ma chree.

Thy sons they are brave; but, the battle once over,
In brotherly peace with their foes they agree,
And the roseate cheeks of thy daughters discover
The soul-speaking blush that says cushla ma chree.
Then, flourish for ever, my dear native Erin,
While sadly I wander, an exile from thee,
And, firm as thy mountains, no injury fearing,
May Heaven defend its own cushla ma chree!
* Pulse of my heart.

In these lines we see again Mr. Banim's inequality and want of mastery in lyric composition; but he is happier than usual throughout the last verse, particularly in the two final lines, which are exquisitely touching in feeling, and perfect in execution.

THE PICQUETS ARE FAST RETREATING, BOYS.

CHARLES LEVER. From "Charles O'Malley."

Air, "The Young May Moon."

THE picquets are fast retreating, boys,
The last tattoo is beating, boys;

So let every man

Finish his can,

And drink to our next merry meeting, boys!

The colonel so gaily prancing, boys,
Has a wonderful trick of advancing, boys;
When he sings out so large,

"Fix bayonets and charge!"
He sets all the Frenchmen a-dancing, boys!

Let Mounseer look ever so big, my boys,
Who cares for fighting a fig, my boys?
When we play "Garryowen"

He'd rather go home,

For somehow he's no taste for a jig, my boys.