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That 'mid our hills, as wild and free
As one at home she seems,
And lets her voice accompany

The music of our streams;
Her mantle tangled in the brake,
Her shadow on the silent lake.

That when the cloud's rich purple fold
Lifts to the evening beam,

Beneath, on couch of pearl and gold,
Lies beauty in a dream.

For cloudland who? we bid thee say,
Through Ireland lies the nearest way.

And to our Royal Lady say,

That this, her green domain,

Is yearning for a sunny day-
So will she come again?

Then shall thy wires, with welcomes quiver,
Our "hundred thousand" few to give her.

But shalt thou tell how ruin treads

On yonder hearthstone cold?—

Of hungry mouths, and houseless heads?
Alas, the tale is old!

And should'st thou all such tales convey,
'Twould wear thy wires too soon away.

Of Erin's slothful hands, that waste
Rich gifts bestowed in vain ?
How party's bonds are o'er her cast-
How passion shakes the chain?
No-ill news flies apace, we trow,
Without such messenger as thou.

But whisper gently, as most fit,
To men of high degree,
That harp of tone most exquisite,
May yet mishandled be;

Alas! our part in Britain's song
Hath been the discord far too long.

Some say thy chain was not the first
That fastened us to her;

But thou hast made the word accurs'd
Sound kindly. We could bear
Another chain betwixt us wove,
Unfrayed and firm the links of love.

And love's true type thou surely art;
It hath its signs like thee-

The telegraph 'twixt heart and heart,
Life's electricity!

That, like thee, to the depths goes down,

That many waters cannot drown.

Like thee, through dark and tangled places,

Its way it can pursue—

As delicate the touch that traces
Its errand swift and true;

But, unlike thee, behind it cast,

It leaves a brightness where it passed,

Not parted would our islands seem,

Could love's lost links be found:
The channel were a narrow stream

In one fair pleasure-ground,
Where either side for shade might thank
The trees on the opposing bank.

What lessons England's quickened sight
Might learn through such a chain!
And Erin's passion-lightnings write
A harmless message then;

And learn to strike the better part,
Not Britain's head, but Britain's heart.

Twins should they be, and closely joined,
That, like the Siamese,

With arms around each other twined,
Could only feel at ease ;-

Should feel that were that band cut through,
'Twould spill the life-blood of the two.

And England teach her sister weak
Her firm and stately tread,

And grateful Erin's fingers deck,
The grand, exalted head

With gems, the richest ever set
E'en in that glorious coronet.

When shall it be? When each torn half

Of Erin's self shall join

When love hath set its telegraph

'Twixt Wexford and the Boyne;

When God is felt, and error fled,

And prejudice is lying dead.

Then welcome, messenger of power!
If e'er that bright day break,
Sure we shall need thee every hour
Some friendly word to take.
Become, though lightning be thy dower,
An Iris for our sake-

Tell England how we long to prove,
The rainbow tints of peace and love.

Kinsale.

THE WILD BEE OF LOUGH DERG.

I floated at noon, where the sunlight looks leaden,
On waves that encircle the desolate isle,
Where sin seeks, with penance, the conscience to deaden,
And Summer herself feels too guilty to smile.

I heard the monotonous beat of low surges,
That say a "Confiteor" ceaselessly o'er,
Like thought of the past, that reproachfully urges
The heart of the pilgrim who kneels on the shore.

I thought me, how often, when starlight has glisten'd,
And candles burnt low on the chapel-wall white,
Yon island's pale watchers have listen'd, and listen'd,
Till daylight looked wan on the wearisome night;

Liz.

Have listen'd, if haply some word of forgiving
With the wail of the waters might tremblingly mix;
Have gazed, if some look of the loving and living

Might soften the brow of the cold crucifix.

But lo! on the wave which my shallop was crossing,
A star, that shot forth from its beautiful sphere,
A small golden flow'r of the greenwood-shade tossing
On wings of the wind, at the fall of the year!

High up over head flew a wild bee. Blithe hummer,
As lone in the air as my boat on the lake ;—
O, beautiful guest of the blossoms of summer,

What buds are there here for thy flittings to shake?

Hast come from a home where the hill with the heather
Is rich as the sky with its purplest of light,
Where it, and the stars of the furzes together,

Drink honey and wine of the dew of the night?

Hast come from a chamber all ceil'd with vermilion,
The heart of a lily that lives by a stream,
Where primroses grow round a grassy pavilion,
And look at themselves in a life-lasting dream?

He is bound for some flower surpassing his lily,
He floats over Derg, though its waters be black,
To labour till evening, the starlit and stilly,

And then to his home to go wearily back.

But what if the bells which the wild bee is seeking
Lie, trampled and torn, in the deep mountain dell?
Or what if the tints which their tissues are freaking
Be fed from the fount of a poison-dew'd cell?

O, Faith of my country! that brightly and purely
Wert cradled and fed in the morning of time,
Till spreading thy wild wings, thou soughtest, securely,
The sweet-seeming buds of a sunnier clime;

Wilt thou die in those flow'rs-the fair and deceiving-
Or wander on weary wings joyfully back?
Go sleep in the bud thou hast suffer'd for leaving,
And never more fly o'er the desolate track!

I know not, dark Derg! but, at even returning,
I saw a wild bee, with its golden-wing'd flame,

A self-moving cresset-light starrily burning

My heart hail'd the omen, and call'd it the same.

I followed it on, to its palaces pendent,

Where hush'd are its hummings the summer night through,
Till moons, that hang o'er Meena Feargus resplendent,
Wax ghostly and wan, in the cold morning blue.

O, thus might the faith, that now over this dreary
And dream-haunted lake seeks the poisonous flower,

Come back in the light of its eventime weary,
To rest in the home of its earliest hour!

M.

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THE UNIVERSITY COMMISSION.

THE Dublin University Commissioners have at length brought their labours to a close. After two years expended in investigating facts, and receiving suggestions from all those whose intimate connexion with the University rendered their evidence or their opinion valuable, they have given the result to the public in a volume, rivalling in bulk either of those which have emanated from the sister universities; and as few institutions have had more reason to complain of ignorant or wilful misrepresentation, all lovers of our Irish University will hail the appearance of this Report as a bright and important era in her history. Ignorance will now be no longer excusable. Wilful misrepresentation can now be easily refuted. How far the University of Dublin has fulfilled or neglected her important trust, whether science and literature have prospered or decayed within her walls—whether and how far she has exerted herself to render her education commensurate to the wants of the age; upon all these questions, the public may now satisfy themselves. Whatever be her merits or demerits, they are at least no secret.

We need hardly remind our readers that the duty imposed upon the Commission, and which the elaborate document before us is intended to fulfil, was two-fold-namely, in the first place, to give a faithful report of the existing state of the University of Dublin; and secondly to suggest such alterations as might seem to them necessary or beneficial. With regard to the relative importance of these two duties, there can be, we suppose, but one opinion. The recommendations of the Commissioners are undoubtedly entitled to great weight, as opinions coming from men of known ability, who have devoted much time and thought to the question before them, uninfluenced by any other motive than a desire for the welfare of the institution and of the country. They are the opinions of men celebrated in their various pursuits, raised by their position above all petty jealousy, and

bringing to their allotted task habits of severe and accurate thought, formed during a long course of scientific or professional life. Still they are but opinions the opinions, too, of men not possessing now any peculiar or exclusive sources of information. They are avowedly based upon those very facts which the Report lays open to the whole world. If they are obnoxious to criticism, the materials for criticism lie close at hand; for the Commissioners have done for the public what parents often refuse to do for an inquisitive child: they have made their readers as wise as themselves.

But whatever may be thought of the wisdom of the suggestions contained in the Report, there can be no doubt as to the extreme importance of the facts which are there laid open to the public. The Commissioners have brought together in their Report, a mass of evidence as to the theory and practice of education in the University of Dublin, which leaves nothing to be desired. Every branch of the varied system provided to meet the varied wants of the nineteenth century, has been subjected to a severe and careful scrutiny. Every official connected with its working has been required to give a full account of the manner in which he has discharged his trust; and it is but justice to the fellows and professors to say that no concealment of any kind appears to have been practised or attempted. Their replies to the several queries put to them are made with the full and open candour of men who feel that they have nothing to fear from publicity that their deeds" give them no reason to "hate the light." But on this point we shall allow the Commissioners to speak for themselves :—

"Our proceedings in carrying your Majesty's commission into execution, have been greatly facilitated by the spirit in which our communications have been received by the different officers of the college; and by the promptness and courtesy with which they have replied to our inquiries. Their answers, too, contain very full information on each subject of investigation, and the sug

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