,,Even so, tho' thy memory should now die away, ,,'T will be caught up again in some happier day, ,,And the hearts and the voices of Erin prolong, ,,Through the answering Future, thy name and thy song."

THEY KNOW NOT MY HEART.

They know not my heart, who believe there can be
One stain of this earth in its feelings for thee;
Who think, while I see thee in beauty's young hour,
As pure as the morning's first dew on the flow'r,
I could harm what I love, as the sun's wanton ray
But smiles on the dew-drop to waste it away.

No-beaming with light as those young features are,
There's a light round thy heart which is lovelier far:
It is not that cheek 't is the soul dawning clear
Thro' its innocent blush makes thy beauty so dear;
As the sky we look up to, though glorious and fair,
Is look'd up to the more, because Heaven lies there!

„Dein Gedächtniß, ob jeßt es auch sollte verwehn, Wird in glücklichern Tagen von Neuem erstehn, In den Herzen und Stimmen von Erin noch lang „Wiederhallen in Zukunft dein Nam' und dein Sang."

Immer rein von dem Staube des Irdischen blieb;

Der ich prangend in Jugend und Schönheit dich schau,

So rein wie am Morgen in Blumen der Thau,

Könnt' ich je dich versehren

- wie buhlender Strahl

Den Thautropfen küßt und zerstöret zumal?

Nein!

strahlend von Licht wie dein Antlig erblüht, Dein Herz ein weit lieblicher Leuchten umglüht; Nicht die Wange — die Seele verklärt dein Geficht, Die klar durch dein schuldloses Wangenroth bricht: So schaun wir zum Himmel, ob glanzvoll und schön, Nur lieber, weil droben Elysiums Höh’n.

FLY NOT YET.

Fly not yet, 't is just the hour,
When pleasure, like the midnight flower
That scorns the eye of vulgar light,
Begins to bloom for sons of night,

And maids who love the moon.

'T was but to bless these hours of shade That beauty and the moon were made; "T is then their soft attractions glowing Set the tides and goblets flowing.

Oh! stay, Oh! stay,

Joy so seldom weaves a chain

Like this to-night, that oh, 't is pain
To break its links so soon.

Fly not yet, the fount that play'd

In times of old through Ammon's shade, 22) Though icy cold by day it ran,

Yet still, like souls of mirth, began

To burn when night was near.

And thus should woman's heart and looks
At noon be cold as winter brooks,
Nor kindle till the night, returning,
Brings their genial hour for burning.

Flich noch nicht!

Flieh noch nicht! '8 ist just die Stund',
In der im mondbeglänzten Rund
Tagscheu die Nachtviole glüht,
Und auf in jungen Herzen blüht
Der Liebe Seligkeit.

Für solche Schattenstund' allein
Strahlt Frauenreiz und Mondenschein;
Der Zauber ihrer fanften Gluthen
Bringt Pokal und Meer zum Fluthen.

Minneglück so selten flicht

So schönen Kranz, zerreiß ihn nicht
So bald, zu unserm Leid.

Flieh noch nicht! in Ummon's Hain
In alter Zeit der Quell, so rein, 22)
Ob eifig kalt bei Tag er rann,
Bei'm Nahn der Nacht zu glühn begann,
Gleich jubelvoller Brust.

So sollten Frauenherzen schwell'n

Um Tage kalt, wie Winterquell'n,

Und erst, wenn traut die Nacht gekommen, Flammen heiß, in Wonn' entglommen.

When did morning ever break,
And find such beaming eyes awake
As those that sparkle here?

AT THE MID HOUR OF NIGHT.

At the mid hour of night, when stars are weeping, I fly To the lone vale we lov'd, when life shone warm in thine eye;

And I think oft, if spirits can steal from the regions

of air,

To revisit past scenes of delight, thou wilt come to

me there

And tell me our love is remember'd, even in the sky.

Then I sing the wild song 't was once such pleasure to hear!

When our voices commingling breath'd, like one, on

the ear;

And as Echo far off through the vale my sad orison

rolls,

I think, oh my love! 't is thy voice from the Kingdom of Souls, 23)

Faintly answering still the notes that once were so dear.