"He triumphed not that fatal day, When every loyal cheek looked pale, But heard, like us, with sad dismay,

Of fallen chiefs in Clough's dark vale.

"For, wedded to our Ellen's love,

One house was ours, one hope, one soul:
Though fierce malignant parties strove,
No party rage could love control.

"Though we were sprung from British race,
And his was Ellen's early pride,
Yet matched in every loveliest grace,

No priest could e'er their hearts divide.

"What though no yeoman's arms he bore; 'Twas party hate that hope forbad: What though no martial dress he wore, That dress no braver bosom clad.

"And had our gallant Bryan Byrne Been welcomed to their loyal band, Home might I still in joy return

The proudest father in the land.

"For, ah! when Bryan Byrne was slain,
With him my brave, my beauteous son
His precious life-blood shed in vain ;—
The savage work of death was done!

He ceased: for now, by memory stung,
His heart's deep wounds all freshly bled,
While with a father's anguish wrung,

He bowed to earth his aged head.

Yet soothing to his broken heart
He felt the stranger's sympathy,

And age is ready to impart

Its page of woe to pity's eye.

Yes! it seemed sweet once more to dwell

On social joy and peaceful days,

And still his darling's virtues tell,
And still his Ellen's beauty praise.

"But say," at length exclaimed the youth,
"Did no one rash, rebellious deed

E'er cloud thy Bryan's loyal truth,
And justice doom thy boy to bleed!"

!

"No;

"No; never rash, rebellious deed '
Was his, nor rash rebellious words;
That day of slaughter saw him bleed,
Where blushing justice dropped the sword.

"In Fury's hand it madly raged,

As urged by fierce revenge she flew; With unarmed Innocence she waged Such war as Justice never knew."

""Twas ours (the sorrowing father cried).
'Twas ours to mourn the crimes of all:

Each night some loyal brother died;
Each morn beheld some victim fall.

"Oh, 'twas a sad and fearful day
That saw my gallant boys laid low;
The voice of anguish and dismay
Proclaimed full many a widow's woe!

"But doubly o'er our fated house
The accursed band of murder fell,
And ere our Ellen wept her spouse,
She had a dreadful tale to tell!

"For early on that guilty morn

The voice of horror reached our ears; That, from their thoughtless slumber torn, Before a helpless sister's tears,

"Beneath their very mother's sight

Three youthful brothers butchered lie,
Three loyal yeomen, brave in fight,
Butchered by savage treachery.

"They were my nephews; boys I loved
My own brave boys alone more dear;
Their rashness oft my heart reproved,
And marked their daring zeal with fear.

"They were my widowed sister's joy;
Her hope in age and dark distress;
And Ellen loved each gallant boy
Even with a sister's tenderness.

"It was from Ellen's lips I heard
The tidings sadly, surely true:
To me, ere yet the dawn appeared,
All pale with fear and grief she flew.

Roused

"Roused by her call, with her I sought
The sad abode of misery:

But to the wretched mother brought
No comfort, but our sympathy.

"On the cold earth, proud Sorrow's throne,
In silent majesty of woe,

She sat, and felt herself alone,

Though loud the increasing tumults grow,

"In throngs the assembled country came,
And every hand was armed with death:
Revenge! revenge! (they all exclaim,)
Spare no suspected traitor's breath:

"No; let not one escape who owns
The faith of Rome, of treachery:
This loyal blood for vengeance groans,
And signal vengeance let there be!

"What, shall we feel the coward blow,
And tamely wait a late defence?
No; let us strike the secret foe,

Even through the breast of innocence!

"Poor Ellen trembled as they raved;
Her pallid cheek forgot its tears
While from the hand of fury saved,
Her infant darling scarce appears.

"I saw her earnest searching eye,
In that dark moment of alarm,
Ask, in impatient agony,

A brother's dear, protecting arm.

"Woel bitter woe, to me and mine!

Too well his brave, his feeling heart Already could her fears divine,

And more than bear a brother's part.

"When the first savage blast he knew
Would bid each deadly bugle roar,
Back to our home of peace he flew :
Ah, home of peace and love no more!

"Oh! would to God that I had died
Beneath my wretched sister's roof!
Thus heaven in mercy had denied
To my worst fears their utmost proof.

<< So

"She too awoke to wild despair
With frenzied eye each corse to see,
To rave, to smile with frantic air ;

But never more to smile for me!

"But hold! from yonder grassy slope
Our orphan darling calls me hence:
Sweet child, last relic of our hope,
Of love and injured innocence.

"Soldier, farewell! To thee should power
Commit the fate of lives obscure,
Remember still, in fury's hour

The murdered youths of Glenmalure.

"And chief, if civil broils return,

Though vengeance urge to waste, destroy; Ah! pause!.... think then on Bryan Byrne, Poor Ellen, and her orphan boy!

ODE TO HORROR.

[FROM MR. WHEELWRIGHT'S POEMS.

TR

REMENDOUS Pow'r! whose chilling band,
Relentless tyrants of the Soul,

Obedient to thy dread command,
The vital springs control;

The gasping tongue, no longer free,
And pulseless veins betoken thee:

The pallid cheek, the hollow eye,
And ev'ry fearful mark of wild insanity.

The tortur'd wretch, who courts repose,
Prostrate his thorny couch along,
(When the twin-gates of sleep unclose,
And swarms the airy throng)
Starts trembling, as thy shad'wy form
Rides on the pennons of the storm,

While famish'd vultures scream for food,

And wave the high plum'd wing, and snuff the scent of blood.

Athwart the dreary church-yard now
Forlorn he seeks yon cypress' gloom,

Whose sable branches, bending low,
Weep o'er the mould'ring tomb.

Calm