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TEMPERANCE.

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ness must bear a stated proportion of public virtue ; this mutual trust is the cement of society, and no man can be trusted but as he is reputed honest. To promote confidence is the tendency of all laws. When the ties of morality are enforced by penal sanctions, men are more afraid to violate them, and therefore are trusted with less danger; but when they no longer fear the law, they are to be restrained only by their consciences; and where is the conscience of an habitual drunkard? Thus drunkenness destroys authority, renders all property insecure, and overspreads the whole community with confusion. That man who, before he tasted ardent spirits, contributed every day, by honest labour, to the happiness or convenience of life who supported his family in decent plenty, and was himself at ease, becomes at once miserable and wicked-is detested as a nuisance to the community, and hunted by the officers of justice. Nor has society now anything to wish for regarding him but that by his speedy destruction the security of the traveller may be restored, property may remain in safety, and the tranquillity of the night be free from the alarms of the robber and the murderer."

AUSTRALIA. A kind Wexford Correspondent has furnished the Editor of the DUBLIN JOURNAL with a copy of the Port Philip Gazette of May 18, 1842, which contains a report of an excellent address against the vice of Drunkenness, delivered by Judge Willis from the Bench of the Supreme Court of that colony, to a jury, on the 16th of that month. Our Correspondent also communicates the gratifying fact, that "a letter from a friend in Melbourne states, that the cause of Temperance and Teetotalism is progressing gradually in that colony of drunkenness; there being at the time he wrote (June last) a Temperance Society, and also a Teetotal one." Judge Willis, in the course of his address, made the following admirable observations :-"We live in a colony, gentlemen, where the effects of the unrestrained use of ardent spirits have been for a long time too evident: we know that they produce in almost every one a high opinion of his own merit; that they blow the latent sparks of pride into flame, PROFESSOR WILSON'S SKETCH OF A and therefore destroy all voluntary submission; that they put an end to subordination, and raise every man in his own opinion to an equality with his master, or his governor; that they repress all that awe by which men are restrained within the limits of their proper spheres, and incite the drunkard to press upon the man who stands before him and occupies that place, which the sudden elevation bestowed by drunkenness makes the inebriate think himself more

any

worthy to fill. Ungoverned pride is the parent, and reckless daring is the fosterer of resentment; and this is the reason why men are almost always inclined in their drunken debauches to strife and bloodshed; they then think more highly of their own merit, and therefore more readily conclude themselves injured; they are wholly divested of fear, insensible of present danger, and, therefore, thoughtless of future punishment: what then can hinder them from express. ing their resentment with the most offensive freedom, or pursuing their revenge with the most daring violence? Thus, characters are maligned, quarrels take place, and sometimes lives are lost at a time when those who set them to hazard are without consciousness of their value-without sense of the laws which they violate-and without regard to motives but the immediate influence of rage and malice. When we consider these effects of drunkenness, it can be no wonder if the magistrate sometimes finds himself resisted, if not overcome, by a drunken brawler, followed not unfrequently by a multitude united against all constituted authority, and thus united by general debauchery. Government subsists upon reverence, and what reverence can be paid to the law by a man, or any crowd of men, each of whom is exalted, by the enchantment of intoxicating spirits, to the independence of a monarch, the wis dom of a legislator, and the intrepidity of a hero who deems those laws oppressive which oppose the execution of his present intentions, and considers every magistrate as his persecutor and enemy? I attribute it to drunkenness in a great degree that the laws are so much neglected and defied among the lower orders in this community and this neglect, this defiance of the laws, without doubt, produces insults and robberies. It is happy that men who are thus inclined to mischief are on many occasions preserved from the hand of the executioner by the very means which exposed them to it, and that palsies either disable them from pursuing their villanies, or fevers put an end to their existence. Public happi

DRUNKARD.

His is a

The

Drunkard, stand forward, that we may have a look at you, and draw your picture. There he stands ! The mouth of a drunkard, you may observe, contracts a singularly sensitive appearance seemingly red and rawish; and he is perpetually licking or smacking his lips, as if his palate was dry and adust. thirst that water will not quench. He might as well drink air. His whole being burns for a dram. whole world is contracted into a caulker. He would sell his soul in such extremity, were the black bottle denied him, for a gulp. Not to save his soul from eternal fire would he, or rather could he, if let alone with it, refrain from pulling out the plug, and sucking What a snout he turns up to away at destruction. the morning air! inflamed, pimpled, snubby, and snorty, and with a nob at the end on't like one carved out of a stick by the knife of a schoolboy-rough and hot to the very eye-a nose which, rather than pull, you would submit even to be in some degree insulted. A perpetual cold harasses and exhausts him, and a perpetual expectoration. How his hand trembles! It is an effort even to sign his name; one of his sides is certainly not by any means as sound as the other: there has been a touch of palsy there, and the next hint will draw down his chin to his collar-bone, and convert him, a month before dissolution, into a slavering idiot. There is no occupation, small or great, insignificant or important, to which he can turn for any length of time, his hand, his heart, or his head.

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CORAL.

The examination of a coral reef, during the different stages of one tide, is particularly interesting. When the tide has left it for some time it becomes dry, and appears to be a compact rock, exceedingly hard and ragged: as the sea rises, and the waves begin to wash over it, the coral worms protrude themselves from holes which were before invisible. These animals are of a great variety of shapes and sizes, and in such prodigious numbers, that, in a short time, the whole surface of the rock appears to be alive and in motion. The most common worm is in the form of a star, with arms from four to six inches long, which are moved about in rapid motion, in all directions, probably to catch food. Others are so sluggish, that they may be mistaken for pieces of the rock, are generally of a dark colour, and from four to five inches long, and two or three round. When coral is broken, about high water mark, it is a solid hard stone, but if any part of it be detached at a spot which the tide reaches every day, it is found to be full of worms of different lengths and colours, some being as fine as a thread, and several feet long, of a bright yellow colour; others resemble snails, and some are not unlike lobsters in shape, but soft, and not above two inches long.

sea.

The growth of coral appears to cease where the worm is no longer exposed to the washing of the Thus a reef rises in the form of a cauliflower, till its top has gained the level of the highest tide; above which the worm has no power to advance, and the reef, of course, no longer extends itself upwards. The other parts, in succession, reach the surface, and there stop, forming in time a level field, with steep sides all round. The reef, however, continually increases, and being prevented from going higher, extends itself laterally in all directions; but this growth being as rapid at the upper edge as it is lower down, the steepness of the face of the reef is still preserved. These are the circumstances which render coral reefs so dangerous in navigation; for, in the first place, they are seldom seen above the water and, in the next place, their sides are so steep, that a ship's bow may strike against a rock before any change of soundings has given warning of the danger.

It appears that the accumulation of habitations thus formed by these apparently insignificant tribe of animals, sometimes attain to an immense extent, and constitute in part the bases of many islands within the Thus to rear a China seas, and in the Pacific ocean. stupendous fabric from the very depths of the ocean and some feet above its surface, is a task which might well appal the most powerful and civilised nations. And yet it is performed with ease by an insect, small, and to all appearances helpless and contemptible. Here, therefore, we meet with another of the numerous instances which natural history affords us, of the infinite wisdom which has planned the universal creation, and watched over the formation of every one of the parts of this truly stupendons whole. In preparing their own habitations, insects prepare a future abode for man. When the coral reef is once raised above the reach of the tide, and is thus secured from the inroads of the sea, the insect leaves its labours in this direction, and now extends the immense mass it has raised laterally. Sea-weeds are thrown upon the bare and barren mass, which decaying, and aided soon after by biterns, form the ground-work of future vegetation. Mosses succeed, birds are attracted; manure and seeds are brought at the same time, and by the same individuals,

and, at length, in process of time, a bed of vegetable mould is formed, which is capable of producing larger plants. This simple process seems to be that which the ever active causes that spread fertility and life throughout the earth employ to enlarge the land, and to prepare a place upon which man may fix his residence.

INVISIBLE-VISIBLE INKS.-If letters be traced on paper with muriate of cobalt, the writing is invisible; and by holding it before the fire, the characters speedily assume a green colour, which again disappear as the paper cools. The writing made with this ink may, therefore, at pleasure be made visible or invisible, by alternately warming and cooling the paper, if care be taken not to expose it to a greater degree of heat than is necessary to make the invisible writing legible. This experiment is rendered more amusing, by drawing the trunk and branches of a tree in the usual manner, and tracing the leaves with sympathetic ink. The tree appears leafless till the paper is heated, when it suddenly becomes covered with a beautiful foliage. The sympathetic ink is prepared in the following manner:-Put into a vessel one part of cobalt or zaffre, and four of nitromuriatic acid; digest the mixture, with a gentle heat, until the acid dissolves no more cobalt; then add muriate of soda, equal in quantity to the cobalt employed, and four times as much water as acid, and filter the liquor through paper.

LOVE. Society has never failed to invent aught that was necessary for its welfare or support Genius is not the grand discoverer and inventor in the ranks of society. The grand inventor is love; genius is but a faculty, whereas the love of man is an impassioned virtue; and for our honour or excuse let it be said, that this passion for the improvement of any class of human beings is the characteristic passion of the present age.

PROFANE SWEARING.-Among the vices which fashion has too great a share in encouraging, none is of worse example, or less excusable, than that of profane swearing, or by the practice of interlarding one's conversation on all occasions, even the most trifling, with appeals to the Deity.

HUMILITY AND PRIDE CONTRASTED.-Humility must be a very glorious thing, since pride itself puts it on, not to be despised. Pride must be of itself something deformed and shameful, since it dares not show itself naked, and is forced to appear in a mask.

THE ANTELOPE. The legs of this animal are so slender, and brittle at the same time, that they break in the attempt to convey the animal from place to place; or even when it is kept upon a pavement or a floor which is smooth enough to be slippery. The Arab, however, mounted on his courser, overtakes these swift-footed animals, and throws a stick at them, by which their legs are most commonly entangied and broken; so that it is very rare to procure one alive, without its being so crippled that it is impossible to keep it.

INDIAN-RUBBER. This is a large tree, growing fifty or sixty feet. Its flowers are very inconspicuous, and are terminal. It is a native of South America, and grows abundant in the province of Quito, and along the border of the river Amazons, in the kingdom of Mexico. Our Indian-rubber, as it is called, is from the juice of this tree. For medical use it is dissolved in ether, and then made into various surgical instruments by evaporation, and coated gold wire becomes an excellent metalic elastic bougie. The Indians make boots of it, and burn it for candles and flambeaux, which procure a clear dazzling light without smoke.

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LOVE

Many waters cannot quench love, neither can the floods drown it."

There's might in the storm, in the ocean's dash,
In the blazing lightning's scorching flash;
In the earthquake's awful heaves and throes,
In the burning mount where the lava flows;
In the battle cry when the fight's begun,
In the flashing light of the roaring gun;
In the squadron's charge, in the clashing stell,
There's might and power the heart must feel.
But the storm will cease, and the foamy shore,
And the lightning's flash be seen more;
And the earthquake's dreads no more return,
And the gloomy mount no more shall burn;
And the cry shall end, the fight be o'er,
And the slaughtering gun shall hush its roar;
And the furious charge, the clash of arms
Shall cease their might no more alarms.
In the sounding waterfall there's might,
As it tumbles down from its craggy height;
In the beetling cliff where the eagle soars,
In the sound of dread when the lion roars;
In the thunder-cloud with angry frown,
In the whirling pool that sucks you down;
In the whirlwind's strength, in the simoom's breath,
In time there's power-there's might in death.

But the waterfall shall sound no more,
The eagle scream, the lion roar,
The thunder cloud shall pass from sight,
The whirling pool, the whirlwind's might,
The simoom's sweep shall end in peace;
And time and death alike shall cease;
And all their might and power shall be
Engulphed in vast Eternity!

But, Oh! there's a power without controul,
Immortal as th' immortal soul;

It lives and beams on all around,
"Without a mark, without a bound,"

In cloud and sunshine, storm and calm,

A soothing power, a healing balm,
To all on earth 'tis freely given,

It reigns supreme, and governs Heaven!

If all the waters of the deep
Would join in one terrific sweep;
If all the founts and all the streams
That sparkle 'neath the sun's bright beams,
Would fall in one tremendous shower,
They could not quench this vital power,
In height, and depth, all power above,
The EVERLASTING FATHER'S LOVE!
Tandragee, 15th Nov. 1842.

H.

THE HALF-PAY OFFICER. There he sits-tall, thin, pale, a man of iron, all bone and muscle, over whom sixty years and forty campaigns have passed, leaving fewer wrinkles than wounds. He is bald, and that temple of thought, his lofty, expansive forehead, terminates in shaggy black eye-brows, which partially conceal the bright, keen, inquisitive orbs that roll beneath them. You can find little in the expression of his face, of sym pathy with the affairs of others; his features are moveless and bust-like. You would start, were those lips to mould themselves into a smile, and a joke from that mouth, would sound like a merry tune from the organ in St. Patrick's. Yet there is nothing morose or cynical about him-an infant would not fear to entwine its arms about his neck-a ragged mendicant would not be afraid to solicit his charity. If he has no spirit of communion with his kind; if the common places of the world have no charm for him; if the amusements of the young and the gay excite no corresponding emotion in his bosom, it is not misanthropy, but disappointment, which has ossified the surface of his heart-for that heart is still tremblingly alive at the core to every call of pity, to every tender and generous impulse; and the man, whose looks you might fancy would "freeze Spitzbergen," has often earned the blessing of him that I was ready to perish," and called from heaven a beam of joy to lighten the mansions of despair, though the soul-healing ray was never to visit his own breast. He loved passionately, was loved truly; but "not even love can live on flowers." He strove to hew a way to fortune with his sword-found honour, but not wealth-and, after bootless years of hardship and suffering, returned to his native land to bury his betrothed one, (they told him she died of a broken heart,) and sink into that bemocked, unconsidered thing-a half-pay officer.

HEALING OF BURNS.-After being scalded or burned, apply cotton wool as soon as possible to the sore. Put it on thick, and so close as to exclude the air, and do not take it off till the burn is healed. If the cotton gets wet, more must be put above it; but none taken off. Should there be a blister, the water may be let out, by opening it at the under side before putting on the wool.

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ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS. "M."-We shall insert with pleasure not only the " carmina," but also the MSS., provided the Rubicon be not passed. Our painstaking and highly-valued Correspondent shall, at all times, meet a cordial welcome.

translation will be acceptable. We would recommend our Correspondent not to dilute the spirit of his original, but take "Father Prout" as his model.

POOR RELATIONS.-A poor relation is generally considered the most irrelevant thing in nature-a piece of impertinent correspondency-an odious approximation a haunting conscience-a preposterous shadow, lengthening in the noon-tide of prosperity-an unwelcome remembrancer-a perpetually recurring "J. K" Cork.-Most certainly. A well executed and faithful mortification-a drain on the purse-an intolerable dun upon pride—a drawback upon success-a Mordecai at the gate-the one thing not needful-the hail in harvest a bore! His memory is unseasonable; his compliments perverse; his talk a trouble; his stay pertinacious; and when he goeth away, his chair is dismissed into a corner as precipitately as possible, and two nuisances are thought fairly got rid of.-Alas! poor human nature!

HAPPINESS AND MISERY.-These are among the most relative of all terms. The happiest moments in the life of a savage would strike an Irish mendicant dumb with despair. The beggar's ideal bliss is placed in the anticipation of a full meal and constant work; the mechanic, who possesses both, often longs for the corporeal indulgences of the tradesman; the tradesman for the glitter and show of the independent man." Thus runs the world away!"

PASSION. Nothing doth so fool a man as extreme passion. This doth make them fools which otherwise are not, and shew them to be fools that are so.

“IDA."-You shall probably see yourself in our next. We shall at all times be happy to hear from you.

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IONE."-Received, and under consideration.

"C. J. L."-The crucible and alembic, and all that therein is, we shall most gladly accept. "Brevis esse laboro" is a good rule, and we trust ur Correspondent will observe it. "W. H."-The subject is, of course, interesting, if managed with a view to brevity and instruction.

"The Gamester's Fate."-The tale has not come to hand. "J. S."-Not suitable to our pages.

Numerous communications are under consideration.

Printed for the Proprietors, at the Office, 32, Lower Sackville-street, Dublin, where all communications (post-paid) are to be addressed, to the Editor.

Published by T. TEGG & Co., 8, Lower Abboy-street, Dublin; and all Booksellers.

THE DUBLIN
DUBLIN JOURNAL

OF TEMPERANCE, SCIENCE, AND LITERATURE.

No. 6.-VOL. II.

PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY.

IRISH HISTORY.

Of course, the glowing eulogium of "the immortal Tully" upon history, and the advantages of the study of it, is fresh in the memory of many of our readers. Having, therefore, so eloquent and impressive a panegyric on so noble a perpetuation of the deeds of days gone by, we shall not attempt "to gild refined gold," or "paint the lily." Be it our province to speak of the records of our national achievements, and, in the pride of love of country, to point to that history which has been so shamefully neglected by Ireland's own sons, that it may literally be said of the best of her worthies, that

"Unhonoured they sleep in the cross-roads of fame!'' It is with shame we confess it, that even here in our home, and in the land of our forefathers, the Irish youth are systematically taught Roman, Grecian, and English history, but that the annals of Irish patriotism and Irish glory are utterly disregarded! It is plain, that this feeling is not only unnational, but unnatural; that it generates anything but respect and veneration for those illustrious men, than whom brighter specimens can no where be found of genius, energy, and martial spirit. It may be said, however, that all early Irish annals are apocryphal, and that clouds and darkness rest upon their indistinct horizon. This, we know, is the common excuse for the absence of that studious consideration of Irish history, which is so largely given to other subjects. But what country in the world is there whose early origin is not a little obscure? Who forgets that the story of Romulus and Remus suckled by a wolf is just as legendary, and of as absurd a class of fiction, as is the wildest of our own tales, as has been ably shown by Niebuhr, the German historian? What story have we in the roll of Irish antiquity, to which an equally incredible narrative cannot be found in the pages of the iron Tacitus or the briefly-eloquent Livy? And we hesitate not to declare, that, in the case of Irish history, there is a mighty combination of phenomena which belongs not to the record of

PRICE 1d.

So that

even any other modern European land.
the "Emerald gem," in position and peculiarity,
stands, in a historic view, upon a perfect level
with any other ancient land, and presents features,
moreover, which no modern country enjoys. She
has a host of ancient testimonies-a long line of
tradition-customs, decidedly primeval-super-
stitions, which must have had their beginning
at an early era language, of a structure that
harmonises only with distant antiquity-names
of places, that

recall long-lost customs-and monuments, which defy not only the tooth of time, but the deepest learning and research of the most devoted antiquary. Her fractured pillars, her Cyclopean fabrics, her singularly-grooted arches, her cairnes, her rusted weapons, are the sca'> tered relics of skill in the Arts, the Sciences, and the comforts of life; while her ancient ecclesiastical ruins are evidences of her early attachment to Christianity. Our best authorities all concur in the opinion, that, at a very early period indeed, the highest civilisation then existing was possessed by the Irish; and all we can do now is, to deplore the sad reverse which the vicissitudes of centuries have brought with them, and to try again to raise the land of our fathers to a scale of intellectual and moral greatness. We of the DUBLIN JOURNAL are supplying a mighty lever towards the wished-for consummation, and are happy to say our exertions have been enthusiastically seconded in all parts of the island. We are, in point of fact, the only cheap Irish periodical exclusively given to national subjects. We number among our contributors some of the elite of the talent of the land, whose names, we have no doubt, yet will be emblazoned on the scroll of fame; and, if an IRISH PUBLIC will still smile on us, we may yet be a mighty instrument in effecting, under Providence, a great and permanent change in the minds of our people. Let them study the narratives of the distant past, and cull from them lessons likely to make them wiser and better; and let them feel, that, to be nationally great, they must be individually worthy members of society. What is true of the universal, is true

of the particular. As we now stand on ground which is common to both Trojan and Tyrian, we ask the sympathies of all. The pen shall only be with us the vehicle of instruction, so that we can safely say with Flaccus

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Sed hic stilus haud petet ultro Quenquam animantem.”

Irishmen are remarkable for being, as a nation, perhaps, the wittiest and the most brilliant people in the world. Our object will be to make them the best-to supply them with tales of good moral point and effect, and aid them in the developement of their natural powers. It cannot be said of us—

"Dextrâ tenet calamum, strictum tenet altera ferrum ;” or with the passionate lover of the favoured Laura, whose beauty called forth the sweetlyflowing sonnets of Petrarca

"Come dogliosa e disperata scriva, El ferro ignudo tien dalla sinestra." No-" PEACE" is our watch-word, and we rest our heads under the olive branch. We shall neither speak daggers, nor use them.

DUELLING.

Towering insolence, brute force, or unprincipled coxcombry, it is said, could not be kept in awe or chastised without duelling. This assumption is as showy as false. They are not kept in awe by fear of duels; for challenges are what such characters love to provoke, and delight to receive; they are subdued by the opinion of society-by the dread of that opprobrium which almost invariably follows insolence, violence, or insulting frivolity. The truth is, duels have injured more men than ever they benefited. Those who have been "called out"-those who have been "in the field"-those who have been attended with the sound and nonsense of "seconds," if they were tolerable members of society before, are seldom bearable afterwards. They are "touchy unto death." They look bullets and destruction, if you talk warmly to them, or hint at what may be tortured into " attack on their honour." The laws of God and man being set aside, the important question of right or wrong-of character and reputation, is left to the decision of the best marksmen. The folly of duels is equal to their guilt they decide nothing. They neither prove the courage, the justice, nor the innocence of the parties. The greatest cowards may be urged on to fight duels, and the bravest men may, from a feeling of duty to God and man, and from a conviction of the absurdity, refuse this mode of settling disputes. They occasionally rid the world of a fool or a madman, but sometimes deprive society of a worthy man, who, though possessed of many virtues, has not courage enough to follow his own convictions of duty, and who is so afraid of the imputation of cowardice, that he acts the part of a coward-for, induced by fear of the censure and ridicule of a misjuding world, he deliberately does what his conscience condemns.

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The practice of duelling is absurd, unjust, and unreasonable. That society should continue to extend towards it a negative countenance, is deplorable. In Ireland, as in other countries, what melancholy records have we of fatal effects occasioned by it!

OSSIAN'S POEMS.

THE EPISODE OF MORNA.
(CONCLUDED FROM NO. 4.)

"Whence com'st thou, Duchomar ?" the maid reply'd;
"Whence com'st thou, brow of gloom and heart of pride
Why near my lonely cavern dost thou stand,
When Swarran, dreadful king, is on our land?
Meeter for thee to face th' invading foe,

Than trouble Morna in her cave of woe!"

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From the brown hills, the dwelling of the deer, With hasty footsteps have I wandered here, To seek my lonely love. Three roes I slew, With pointed arrows from my polish'd yew; And three my trusty dogs have also slain, As they were bounding over Lena's plain : Another stately deer then came in view, And once again I bent my polish'd yew; The string resounded, and the arrow sped Between his branching horns, and pierc'd his head. For thee I slew them, lovely, lonely fair; Then come with Duchomar the feast to share!" "I will not go with thee!" the maid reply'd ; "I love thee not, thou harden'd heart of pride! Go, share among thy friends the fallen deer; But lonely Morna will continue here, Till him she loves, comes like the sunny beam That sheds its noontide radiance on the streamCathbat the young, the beautiful, and brave, To carrry Morna from her rocky cave." "Then long will Morna wait!" he fiercely cry'd: "The sword I hold with Cathbat's blood is dy'd! His dogs are howling on the lonely heath Of broomy Branna, where he sleeps in death. Yet, high on Cramla's head his stone I'll raise, And bards shall sing the fallen warrior's praise; But, Cormac's daughter, come with Duchomar, Whose heart and steel are true in love or war!" A thought of vengeance fired her flashing eyes, Like lightning bursting from the darken'd skies: "And is the son of Ternan fall'n!" she cry'd; "And was't by thee my youthful hero dy'd? Dark art thou, Duchomar, as winter cloud; Cruel that heart of thine, so hard and proud; Cruel thine arm of death, thou hated foe; Yet, if thou pityest lonely Morna's woe, Hear my request, and grant what I implore: Give me that weapon stain'd with Cathbat's gore; No blood shall, after his, increase the stain; I'll hide it from the dews and falling rain; And when I'm call'd to join the fallen dead, That sword shall share with me the narrow bed!'! Her bosom swell'd, and, through the starting tear, Her radiant eyes like morning gems appear, When dew is on the grass; but wild her look! The blood-stain'd weapon in her hand she took, And, with a frantic arm, the blade she held Was through the haughty victor's heart propell'd! He fell, as falls the bank of mountain flood; And, stretching out his arm, distain'd with blood, Exclaim'd-"Oh! Morna! soon shall come my rest Cold is that deadly weapon in my breast! But when my latest sigh is on the wind, And pale I lie before thy cave reclin'd, Give me to Moina-to my early love; She'll raise my stone upon the hill above, Where the dark yew a darker shadow throws, To mark the place of Duchomar's repose. The hunter, passing with his bended bow, Will see it, and regret the chief below! But draw the cold sword, Morna, from my breast, And let me sink, in peace, to lasting rest!" She came in all her tears: with trembling hand She from his treach'rous bosom drew the brand. He seiz'd the pointed steel, and pierc'd her side! Her heart's warm blood springs forth-a purple tide Her shining tresses on the ground are spread! Her snowy arm is stain'd with gushing red! She sinks in death!-and Branna's cave replies In feeble echoes to her dying sighs! 20th Nov. 1812.

BAZIERE.

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