Oh! say, would you find this same Blarney?

There's a castle not far from Killarney; On the top of its wall

(But take care you do n't fall)

There's a stone that contains all this blarney.

Like a magnet, it influence such is, That attraction it gives all it touches; If you kiss it, they say,

That from that blessed day

You may kiss whom you please, with your blarney.

THE MEN OF TIPPERARY.

AIR-Nora Criena.

LET Britain boast her British hosts, About them all right little care we; Not British seas, nor British coasts, Can match THE MAN OF TIPPERARY.

Tall is his form, his heart is warm
His spirit light as any fairy;
His wrath is fearful as the storm

That sweeps THE HILLS OF TIPPERARY.

Let woe or want oppress his friends, Though State and Fate proclaim de spair, he,

Against them all "the Pass" defends, And rights THE WRONGS OF TIP

PERARY.

Yet meet him in his cabin rude,

Or dancing with his dark-haired Mary, You'd swear they knew no other mood Than mirth and LOVE IN TIPPERARY.

Soft is his girl's sunny eye,

Her mien is mild, her step is airy, Her heart is fond, her soul is high ; Oh! she's THE PRIDE OF TIPPERARY.

You're free to share his scanty meal;
His plighted word he'll never vary.
In vain they tried with gold and steel
To shake THE FAITH OF TIPPERARY.

Send him to fight for native land--
His is no courage cold and weary;
The troops live not on earth would*
stand

The headlong CHARGE OF TIPPERARY.
Quere?"to."

Let Britain brag her motley rag;
We'll lift THE GREEN more proud and

airy ;—

Be mine the lot to bear that flag,
And head THE MEN OF TIPPERARY.

Though Britain boasts her British hosts,
About them all right little care we;
Give us to guard our native coasts
THE MATCHLESS MEN OF TIPPERARY.

ARRANMORE.

THOMAS MOORE.

ОH! Arranmore, loved Arranmore,
How oft I dream of thee;
And of those days when by thy shore
I wandered young and free.
Full many a path I've tried since then
Through pleasure's flow'ry maze,
But ne'er could find the bliss again
I felt in those sweet days.

How blithe upon thy breezy cliffs
At sunny morn I've stood,
With heart as bounding as the skiffs
That danced along thy flood;
Or when the western wave grew bright
With daylight's parting wing,

Have sought that Eden in its light,
Which dreaming poets sing.

That Eden where th' immortal brave
Dwell in a land serene,-

Whose bowers beyond the shining wave,
At sunset oft are seen;

Ah, dream, too, full of saddening truth!
Those mansions o'er the main
Are like the hopes I built in youth,
As sunny and as vain?

THE FAIRY BOY.*

SAMUEL LOVER.

A MOTHER came when the stars were paling,

Wailing round a lonely spring;

Thus she cried while tears were falling,
Calling on the fairy King:

"Why with spells my child caressing,
Courting him with fairy joy;
Why destroy a mother's blessing,
Wherefore steal my baby boy?

When a beautiful child pines and dies, the Irish peasant believes the healthy infant has been stolen by the fairies, and a sickly elf left in its place.

"O'er the mountain, through the wildwood,

Where his childhood loved to play; Where the flowers are freshly springing, There I wander day by day.

"There I wander, growing fonder
Of the child that made my joy;
On the echoes wildly calling,
To restore my fairy boy.

"But in vain my plaintive calling,
Tears are falling all in vain ;
He now sports with fairy pleasure,
He's the treasure of their train !
"Fare thee well, my child, for ever,
In this world I've lost my joy,
But in the next we ne'er shall sever,
There I'll find my angel boy!"

KATE O'BRIEN.

CHAS. JEFFREYS.

PERHAPS you don't know there's a sweet little stream,

Far down in a dell, where a poet might dream;

A nate little cabin, stands close to the

tide,