Well, Shemus-a-sneidh drove home his cow, and right glad his mother was to see her; but the moment she said "God bless the beast," she sunk down like the _breesha_[50] of a turf rick. That was the end of Shemus-a-sneidh's dun cow. "And, sure," continued my companion, standing up, "it is now time for me to look after my brown cow, and God send the ganconers haven't taken her!" Of this I assured him there could be no fear; and so we parted. [Footnote 44: _Dublin and London Magazine, 1825._] [Footnote 45: Ir. _gean-canach_--_i.e._, love-talker, a kind of fairy appearing in lonesome valleys, a dudeen (tobacco-pipe) in his mouth, making love to milk-maids, etc.] [Footnote 46: A thousand murders.] [Footnote 47: Ir. _cipin_--_i.e._, a stick, a twig.] [Footnote 48: Otherwise "gumshun--" _i.e._, sense, cuteness.] [Footnote 49: Ir. _B'éidir sin_--_i.e._, "that is possible."] [Footnote 50: Ir. _briscadh_--_i.e._, breaking.] HY-BRASAIL--THE ISLE OF THE BLEST. BY GERALD GRIFFIN. On the ocean that hollows the rocks where ye dwell, A shadowy land has appeared, as they tell; Men thought it a region of sunshine and rest, And they called it _Hy-Brasail_, the isle of the blest. From year unto year on the ocean's blue rim, The beautiful spectre showed lovely and dim; The golden clouds curtained the deep where it lay, And it looked like an Eden, away, far away! A peasant who heard of the wonderful tale, In the breeze of the Orient loosened his sail; From Ara, the holy, he turned to the west, For though Ara was holy, _Hy-Brasail_ was blest. He heard not the voices that called from the shore-- He heard not the rising wind's menacing roar; Home, kindred, and safety, he left on that day, And he sped to _Hy-Brasail_, away, far away! Morn rose on the deep, and that shadowy isle, O'er the faint rim of distance, reflected its smile; Noon burned on the wave, and that shadowy shore Seemed lovelily distant, and faint as before; Lone evening came down on the wanderer's track, And to Ara again he looked timidly back; Oh! far on the verge of the ocean it lay, Yet the isle of the blest was away, far away! Rash dreamer, return! O, ye winds of the main, Bear him back to his own peaceful Ara again. Rash fool! for a vision of fanciful bliss, To barter thy calm life of labour and peace. The warning of reason was spoken in vain; He never revisited Ara again! Night fell on the deep, amidst tempest and spray, And he died on the waters, away, far away! THE PHANTOM ISLE. GIRALDUS CAMBRENSIS.[51]