And oh! such a beam in his eye! Where's the use to descend to partic❜lars,

Enough if the end be made known

That same night, by the moon, I consented,

To become Mistress Terry Malone.

MAUREEN.

BRYAN WALLER PROCTER.

THE Cottage is here, as of old I remember, The pathway is worn as it ever hath been: On the turf-piled hearth there still lives a bright ember;

But, where is Maureen ?

The same pleasant prospect still shineth before me,

The river-the mountain-the valley of green,

And heaven itself (a bright blessing!)

is o'er me!

But, where is Maureen?

Lost! Lost!-Like a dream that hath come and departed

(Ah, why are the loved and lost ever seen?)

She hath fallen,-hath flown, with a lover false-hearted;

So, mourn for Maureen!

And she, who so loved her, is slain (the poor mother,)

Struck dead in a day, by a shadow unseen!

And the home we now loved, is the home of another,

And-lost is Maureen!

Sweet Shannon ! a moment by thee let me ponder;

A moment look back at the things that have been ;

Then, away to the world where the ruined ones wander,

To seek for Maureen !

Pale peasant, perhaps, 'neath the frown. of high heaven,

She roams the dark desert of sorrow unseen,

Unpitied,--unknown; but I-I shall

know even

The ghost of Maureen!

THE GIPSY'S WARNING.

TRUST him not, O Gentle Lady,
Though his voice be low and sweet,
Heed not him who kneels before thee,
Softly pleading at thy feet.
Now thy life is in its morning :
Cloud not this thy happy lot-
Listen to the Gipsy's warning-
Gentle Lady, trust him not.

Lady-once there lived a maiden,
Young and pure, and like the fair:
Yet, he wooed, he wooed, and won her,
Thrilled her gentle heart with care—
Then he heeded not her weeping—
He cared not her life to save!
Soon she perished-now she's sleeping
In the cold and silent grave!

Lady, turn not from me so coldly;
For, I have only told the truth-
From a stern and withering sorrow,
Lady, I would shield thy youth:
I would shield thee from all danger-
Shield thee from the Tempter's snare;
Lady, shun the dark-eyed stranger :
I have warned thee--now, beware!-

Take your gold--1 do not want it :
Lady, I have prayed for this.--
For the hour that I might foil him,
And rob him of expected bliss.
Aye, I see thou art filled with wonder
At my looks so fierce and wild--
Lady, in the church-yard, yonder,
Sleeps the Gipsy's only child !

ANNIE LISLE.

Down, where the waving willows
'Neath the sunbeams' smile,
Shadowed o'er the murmuring waters,
Dwelt Sweet Annie Lisle.
Pure as the forest lily,

Never thought of guile

Had its home within the bosom

Of loved Annie Lisle.

CHORUS.

Wave, willows; murmur, waters;
Golden sunbeams, smile!
Earthly music cannot waken
Lovely Annie Lisle !

Sweet came the hallowed chiming
Of the Sabbath bell,

Borne on the morning breezes,
Down the woody dell.

On a bed of pain and anguish

Lay dear Annie Lisle :

Changed were the lovely features,

Gone the happy smile.

Wave, willows; etc.

Toll, bells of Sabbath morning;

I shall never more

Hear your sweet and holy music,
On this earthly shore.
Forms, clad in heavenly beauty,
Look on me and smile,
Waiting for the longing spirit

Of your Annie Lisle.

Wave, willows; etc.

Raise me in your arms, dear Mother;
Let me, once more, look
On the green and waving willows,
And the flowing brook !—
Hark-those strains of angel music
From the choirs above!

Dearest Mother, I am going:

Truly God is love!

Wave, willows; etc.