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("Don Roderique est ' la chasse.")

[XXX., May, 1828.]


Unto the chase Rodrigo's gone,
With neither lance nor buckler;
A baleful light his eyes outshone -
To pity he's no truckler.
...

I have come the selfsame path
To the selfsame door,
Years have left the roses there
Burning as before

While I watch them in the wind
Quick the hot tears start,...

"The Case is proceeding."


From the tragic-est novels at Mudie's--
At least, on a practical plan--
To the tales of mere Hodges and Judys,
One love is enough for a man....

Dost thou remember that place so lonely,
A place for lovers and lovers only,
Where first I told thee all my secret sighs?
When, as the moonbeam that trembled o'er thee...

Double red daisies, they're my flowers,
Which nobody else may grow.
In a big quarrelsome house like ours
They try it sometimes, but no,
I root them up because they're my flowers,...

Noon-time an' June-time, down around the river!
Have to furse with 'Lizey Ann - but lawzy! I fergive her!
Drives me off the place, an' says 'at all 'at she's a-wishin',...

Hark, the sound of it drawing nearer,
Clink of hobble and brazen bell;
Mark the passage of stalwart shearer,
Bidding Monaro soil farewell.

Where is he making for? Down the river,...

I've done with joys an' misery,
An' why should I repine?
There's no one knows the past but me
An' that ol' dog o' mine.
We camp an' walk an' camp an' walk,
An' find it fairly good;...

As through life you journey onward
Many a hill you'll have to climb;
Many a rough and dang'rous pathway,
You'll encounter time and time.
Now and then a gleam of sunshine,...

"Do you remember me? or are you proud?"
Lightly advancing thro' her star-trimm'd crowd,
Ianthe said, and lookt into my eyes,
"A yes, a yes, to both: for Memory
Where you but once have been must ever be,...

I

Do you remember once, in Paris of glad faces,
The night we wandered off under the third moon's rays
And, leaving far behind bright streets and busy places,...

By the blue sky of a clear vision,
And by the white light of a great illumination,
And by the blood-red of brotherhood,
Draw the sword, O Republic!
Draw the sword!

For the light which is England,...

I took the road again last night
On which my boyhood's hills look down;
The old road leading from the town,
The village there below the height,
Its cottage homes, all huddled brown,...

"The universe is expanding".
There's cause for reflection and bound to do wonders
for "who am I" queries.

At this late moment on the Celestial Clock, man isn't...

Don't think these few lines which I send, a reproach,
From my Muse in a car, to your Muse in a coach.
The great god of poems delights in a car,
Which makes him so bright that we see him from far;...

A Dublin man will frown when he
Hears a tale of villainy;
But when a kindness you relate,
He swings and whistles on the gate.

Th' mooin shone breet wi' silver leet,
An th' wind wor softly sighin;
Th' burds did sleep, an th' snails did creep,
An th' buzzards wor a flying;
Th' daisies donned ther neet caps on,...

Pacing slowly down the road
Black horses go, with load on load
Of Dublin people dead, and they
Will be covered up in clay.

Ere their friends go home, each man
Will shake his head, and drain a can...

(November, 1861.)


In time and measure perfect moves
All Art whose aim is sure;
Evolving ryhme and stars divine
Have rules, and they endure.

Nor less the Fleet that warred for Right,...

They sing their dearest songs -
He, she, all of them - yea,
Treble and tenor and bass,
And one to play;
With the candles mooning each face . . .
Ah, no; the years O!...