I kissed the sweet and simple tribute with pious ardour; but with a devotion more fervid, kissed the hand that presented it. I would not have exchanged that moment for the most pleasurable era of my existence. The blushing radiance that glowed on her cheek, sent its warm suffusion even to the hand I had violated with my unhallowed lip; while the sparkling fluid of her eyes, turned on mine in almost dying softness, beamed on the latent powers of my once-chilled heart, and awakened there a thousand delicious transports, a thousand infant wishes and chaste desires, of which I lately thought its worn-out feelings were no longer susceptible. As I arose, I plucked off a small branch of that myrtle which here grows wild, and which, like my rose, was dripping in dew, and putting it into the hand I still held, said, “This offering is indeed less beautiful, less fragrant, than that which you have made; but remember, it is also less _fragile_--for the sentiment of which it is an emblem, carries with it an eternity of duration.” Glorvina took it in silence and placed it in her bosom; and in silence we walked together towards the castle; while our eyes, now timidly turned on each other, now suddenly averted (O, the insidious danger of the abruptly downcast eye!) met no object but what breathed of love, whose soul seemed “--Sent abroad, Warm through the vital air, and on the heart Harmonious seiz’d.” The morning breeze flushed with etherial fervour; the luxury of the landscape through which we wandered, the sublimity of those stupendous cliffs which seemed to shelter two hearts from the world, to which their profound feelings were unknown, while --Every copse Deep tangled, but irregular, and bush, Bending with dewy moisture o’er the head, Of the coy choiristers that lodged within, Were prodigal of harmony,” and crowned imagination’s wildest wish, and realized the fancy’s warmest vision. “Oh! my sweet friend!” I exclaimed, “since now I feel myself entitled thus to call you--well indeed might your nation have held this day sacred; and while the heart, which now throbs with an emotion to which it has hitherto been a stranger, beats with the pulse of life, on the return of this day will it make its offering to that glorious orb, to whose genial nutritive beams this precious rose owes its existence.” As I spoke, Father John suddenly appeared. Vexed as I was at this unseasonable intrusion, yet in such perfect harmony was my spirit with the whole creation, that, in the true hyperbola of Irish cordiality, I wished him a thousand happy returns of this season! “Spoken like a true-born Irishman!” said the priest, laughing, and shaking me heartily by the hand--“While with something of the phlegm of an Englishman, I wish you only as many returns of it as shall bring health and felicity in their train.”