Fondly as when we met, Dearest, I love thee yet, My darling one! Long years are past and o'er, Since from this fatal shore, Cold hearts and cold winds bore My love from me." Scarcely the minstrel spoke, When quick, with flashing stroke, A boat's light oar the silence broke O'er the sea; Soon upon her native strand Doth a lovely lady land, While the minstrel's love-taught hand Did o'er his wild harp run-- "True love can ne'er forget; Fondly as when we met, Dearest, I love thee yet, My darling one!" Where the minstrel sat alone, There, that lady fair hath gone, Within his hand she placed her own,-- The bard dropp'd on his knee; From his lips soft blessings came, He kiss'd her hand with truest flame, In trembling tones he named--her name, Though he could not see. But oh! the touch the bard could tell Of that dear hand, remember'd well,-- Ah! by many a secret spell Can true love find her own! For true love can ne'er forget, Fondly as when they met, He loved his lady yet,-- His darling one. ----S. Lover. [Illustration: 0210] THE O'KAVANAGH I. |The Saxons had met, and the banquet was spread, And the wine in fleet circles the jubilee led; And the banners that hung round the festal that night, Seemed brighter by far than when lifted in fight. II. In came the O'Kavanagh, fair as the morn, When earth to new beauty and vigour is born; They shrank from his glance like the waves from the prow, For nature's nobility sat on his brow. III. Attended alone by his vassal and bard; No trumpet to herald--no clansmen to guard-- He came not attended by steed or by steel: No danger he knew, for no fear did he feel. IV. In eye and on lip his high confidence smiled-- So proud, yet so knightly--so gallant, yet mild; He moved like a god through the light of that hall, And a smile, full of courtliness, proffered to all. V. "Come pledge us, lord chieftain! come pledge us!" they cried; Unsuspectingly free to the pledge he replied; And this was the peace-branch O'Kavanagh bore-- "The friendships to come, not the feuds that are o'er." [Illustration: 0212] VI. But, minstrel! why cometh a change o'er thy theme? Why sing of red battle--what dream dost thou dream? Ha! "Treason"'s the cry, and "Revenge" is the call! As the swords of the Saxon surrounded the hall. VII. A kingdom for Angelo's mind! to portray Green Erin's undaunted avenger, that day; The far-flashing sword, and the death-darting eye, Like some comet commissioned with wrath from the sky. VIII. Through the ranks of the Saxon he hewed his red way-- Through lances, and sabres, and hostile array; And, mounting his charger, he left them to tell