Most brilliant of gems-fairest daughter of Eve,
To the sons of sweet song still delighting to give;
The beloved of Clanmurray, the bard's darling care,
Slieu Gullin's bright pole-star is Catherine the fair.

The mirror of maidens in homage who bow,
Her locks to the sunbeams new lustre bestow;

A white lilly perfuming the amorous gales,

Like the swan of Loughglin fair and stately she sails.

Ta saigheada agus chead Az
ZA YA15heAbA Azux c1EAC A5

DUBAIIT Aм shlad.

Tá súigheKdK Kgus cnea̸d, Kg dúbailt Am shlad,
◊ chréuchdaibh choilz ghátháibh Chiúpid,
Do zhéur-z0in 30 beácht, mo chroidhe Kstigh Kir fKd,
A's do léir-chuir mé, a̸ir ea̸sbáidh súbhácháis :
A réiltionn 's « shea̸rc, ó théurnoigh do dhreách,
Is gléidhe 'n sneáchtá Kir dúbh-chnoic,

I'm líontó, mho chreách! ní Koibhinn mo bháil,
A's táim clkóidhte do'd gheán lionn-dubh!

d'éadán is zile, 'ná Phoébus Kir mire,

Y ná bláith, ó! nú féithleann cúmhrá ;

do ríghin-rosz úr, is gla̸ise 'ná drúchd,

A's 'ní Péurla̸ is gla̸ine lonnra̸ ;

do chlaon-fhoilt finne, 'n-A 3-clKon-bhea̸rtK' Kg filleadh, A's Kg téurnózhádh go mullách zlún ort ; do ghruaidh mar an lil, do bheul már an mhil,

Y do tháébh már An Ea̸la̸ Air chiúin-t-sruith.

WOUNDED BY CUPID'S BURNING DART.

BY EDWARD LAWSON.

Wounded by Cupid's burning dart,

Increasing sighs and groans betray

The anguish of my bleeding heart,

Which wastes with sure though slow decay.

Enchantress! since my dazzled sight

Beheld those limbs like mountain snow,

Ting'd by Aurora's roseate light,

I droop, forlorn, and drowned in woe.

As gilding beauty's vernal bower

Emerging fresh from ocean's breast,

Thro' curling woodbines odorous flower,

Shines out the sun and all is blest.

Táid do zhéuzkibh go h-uile, le chéile Az 10madh,

' fhéucháin Ciá Acá is cúmtha;

bhénus dá d-tigeadh, a's na dé-mhná eile,

Helen, Minerbha K's lúnó ;—

Zán phléidhreacht 's Azad-sa, a chéud-sheárc 'sa

chomkinn,

Thabháirfidís uile An t-ubhAll duit,

Is tráochtá tá me-si K’d éiliúzhádh gán mhisneách
Le Zlé chomann duit-si, « chúil-fhíonn !

VOL. I.

So through your long wreathed locks appear

Your vermeil cheek, your honied lip';
Your full mild eyes like dew drops clear,
That from the young green herbage trip.