And He! what was his fate-the bard!
He of the Desert Harp, whose song
Flowed freely, wildly as the wind

That bore him and his harp along?

That fate which waits the gifted one,
To pine, each finer impulse checked;
At length to sink and die beneath

The shade and silence of neglect.

And this, the polished age, that springs
The Phoenix from dark years gone by,
That blames and mourns the past, yet leaves
Her warrior and her bard to die.

To die in poverty and pride;

The light of hope and genius past; Each feeling wrung, until the heart Could bear no more, so broke at last.

Thus withering amid the wreck

Of sweet hopes, high imaginings, What can the minstrel do but die, Cursing his too beloved strings! Literary Gazette.

L. E. L.

D

THE VIRGIN MARY'S BANK.

AN IRISH TRADITION.

From the foot of Inchidony Island, in the bay of Clonakilty, an elevated tract of sandy ground juts out into the sea, and terminates in a bank of soft verdure, which forms a striking contrast to the little desart behind it, and the black solitary rock immediately under it. Tradition relates, that the Virgin Mary having wandered one evening to this sequestered spot, was there discovered praying, by the crew of a vessel which was then coming to anchor in the Bay. Instead of sympathising with her in her piety, the sailors were so inconsiderate as to turn her into ridicule, and even add to their ill-timed jeers some very impertinent remarks upon her beauty. The result may readily be anticipated-a storm arose, and the vessel having struck upon the black rock of Inchidony, went down with all her crew, not one of whom was ever afterwards heard of!

THE evening star rose beauteously above the fading day,
As to the lone and silent beach the Virgin went to pray;

And hill and wave shone brightly in the moonlight's mellow fall, But the bank of green where Mary knelt was the brightest of them all.

Slow moving o'er the waters, a gallant bark appeared,

And her crew all crowded to the deck, as to the land she neared; To the calm and sheltered haven she floated like a swan,

And her wings of snow o'er the waves below, in pride and glory

shone.

The Captain saw Our Lady" first, as he stood upon the prow, And marked the whiteness of her robe, the radiance of her

brow;

Her arms were folded gracefully, upon her stainless breast,

And her eyes looked up among the stars, to Him her soul loved

best.

He bad his sailors look on her, and hailed her with a cheer,
And on the kneeling Virgin straight, they gazed with laugh and
jeer;-

They madly vowed a form so fair they ne'er had seen before,
And cursed the faint and lagging breeze that kept them from the

shore.

The ocean from its bosom then shook off its moonlight sheen, And its wrathful billows fiercely rose to vindicate their Queen; A cloud came o'er the heavens, and a darkness o'er the land, And the scoffing crew beheld no more the Lady on the strand.

Out burst the pealing thunder, and the lightning leaped about,
And rushing with its watery war, the tempest gave a shout;
That fated bark from a mountain wave came down with direful
shock,

And her timbers flew like scattered spray, on Inchidony's rock.

Then loud from all that guilty crew, one shriek rose wild and high,

But the angry surge swept over them, and hushed that maddening

cry ;

With a hoarse, exulting murmur, the tempest died away,

And down, still chafing from their strife, the indignant waters lay.

When the calm and purple morning shone out on high Dunore,
Full many a mangled corse was seen on Inchidony's shore;
And even now the fisher points to where those scoffers sank,
And still proclaims that hillock green, THE VIRGIN MARY'S BANK.
J. C. C.

FROM THE ARABIC OF TOGRAI.

THOU sleep'st, while the eyes of the planets are watching,
Regardless of love and of me!

I sleep, but my dreams, at thy lineaments catching,
Present me with nothing but thee!

Thou art changed, while the colour of night changes not,
Like the fading allurements of day;

I am changed, for all beauty to me seems a blot,

While the joy of my heart is away.

THE SISTERS.

BY ALARIC A. WATTS.

They grew together

Like to a double cherry, seeming parted,
But yet an union in partition;

Two lovely berries moulded on one stem:
So with two seeming bodies, but one heart.

Shakspeare.

I SAW them when their bud of life

Was slowly opening into flower,
Before a cloud of care or strife

Had burst above their natal bower;
Ere this world's blight had marred a grace
That mantled o'er each sparkling face.

What were they then? Two twinkling stars,-
The youngest of an April sky,-

Far, far from earth, and earth-born jars,
Together shining peacefully:

Now borrowing, now dispensing light,
Radiant as hope, and calm as bright!

What were they then? Two limpid streams, Through life's green vale in beauty gliding, Mingling like half-forgotten dreams;—

Now, 'neath the gloom of willows hiding;— Now, dancing o'er the turf away,

In playful waves and glittering spray.

I see them, as I saw them then,

With careless brows, and laughing eyes;

They flash upon my soul again,

With all their infant witcheries ;

Two gladsome spirits, sent on earth,
As envoys from the Muse of mirth !

Such Fancy's dreams;-but never more
. May Fancy with such dreams be fed;
Those buds have withered to their core,
Before their leaves had time to spread !—
Those stars are fallen from on high,
Those twin bright streams for ever dry

Whilst Spring was gladdening all the skies,
Mid blooming flowers and sunny weather,
Death came to them in gentlest guise,

And smote them, in his love, together:
In concert thus they lived and died,
And now lie slumbering side by side!

STONEHENGE.

BY THE REV. CHARLES HOYLE.

MYSTERIOUS pile! what necromantic lore
Invoked thee into light? Moons wax and wane,
The Roman, and the Saxon, and the Dane,
Have wandered where the Druid long of yore
Purpled thy circles with unhallowed gore:
The castle sinks, the palace, and the fane,
While thou canst hear in mockery and disdain
The storms of twice ten hundred winters roar.
Yet vaunt not, giant wonder! let the ground
Tremble, and thou art dust. The stars shall fall
From heaven and heaven itself be as a dream,
That flies, and is forgotten. Angels all,

Eternal ages, regions without bound,

Proclaim ye one sole strength-the Ineffable-Supreme!