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SONGSTER. 99
I dreamt of my laidy, I dreamt of her shroud.
Cried a voice from the kinsmen, all wrathful and loud.
And empty that stiroud and that cofliin did seem!
Glenara, Glenara, now read me my dream.
Oh ! pale grew the cheek of that chieftain, I ween.
When the cotfin unclos'd, and no lady was seen.
When a voice from the kinsmen spoke loudly in scorn.
'Twas a ycuth who had lov'd the fair Ellen of Lorn.
I dreamt of my lady, I dreamt of her grief,
I dreamt that her lord was a barbarous chief:
On a rock of the ocean fair Ellen did seem !
Glenara, Glenara, now read me my dream.
In dust low the traitor had knelt to the ground.
And the desert reveal'd where his lady was found,
From a rock of the ocean, that beauty is borne:
Now joy to the house of fair Ellen of Lorn.
Tlie Irislinian.
The savage loves his native shore,
Tho' rude the soil and chill the air,
Then well may Erin's sons adore
Their isle which nature formed so fair
What flood reflects a show so sweet.
As Shannon's great or pastoral band,
Or who a friend or foe can meet.
So gen'xous as an Irishman ?
Tho' his hand be rash, his heart is wann.
And principle is still his guide.
None more regrets a Jeed of harm.
None more forgives with nobler pride ;
Ho may be dup'd, but won't be dar'd;
But fit to practise and to plan.
He ably earns his poor reward.
And «;p'>n!« i* ^-V-* :i'» ['-•'^H'l-*"*'