O'ER the hills of Slieve Galen,as home- ward he wander'd, The exile of Erin oft paus'd with delight; To dear recollections his foul he surrender'd As each well known object return'd to his fight; Here was the brook, oft he leap'd so light hearted, Here was the bower, where with love first he smarted, And here was the old oak, where when he departed, He carv'd his last farewell, 'twas--Erin go bragh.

His heart, wild was beating--when softly affail'd him, The found of a harp--oh he listen'd with joy, What quickening emotions! his visage re, veal'd them, And the fire of his country beam'd strong from him eye: A sweet female voice, foon the lov'd strains attended, ' Twas dear to his fond soul, that o'er it suspended, With each note the spirits of feeling ascend- ed, Sung soft to the accents of--Erin go bragh.

"I once had a lover," thus ran the sweet numbers, "Now doom'd far from me and his coun- try to mourn, "Perhaps in the cold bed of death, e'en he slumbers, "Ah my soul! canst thou think he shall never return; "Yes, he shall, for he lives, and his paft woes redressing, "His country shall hail him with smiles and caressing, "And lock'd in my arms, he'll pronouce her his blessing, "That country which wrong'd him, his Erin go bragh.

"As a lamb he was meek, as a dove he was tender, "And form'd was his bosom, of friend- ship and love, "But call'd by his country, still swift to defend her, "Undaunted and fierce as the eagle he'd move. "That ardour of passion, for me, which he pleaded, "By what female breast could it have been unheeded? "The love of his country alone could ex- ceed it. "For still his first was for Erin go bragh

"This harp, on whose strings oft he rous'd each emotion, "Unrivall'd the soft tones of feeling to draw, "He left me, the pledge of his heart's true devotion, "And bade me oft strike it toErin go bragh "O'er it oft I've dream'd that he sat in this bower, "And touch'd the sad tale of his exile with power, "Each soul glowing patriot, the strains did devour, "Struck full to the magic of Erin go bragh.

"But ceafe ye vain dreams! for at morn still I lofe him, "And cease my fond hopes, for my griefs must remain" "No--they muft not!"--he cried, and rush'd to her bosom-- "Your exile's return'd to Erin again, "Now fall'n are the oppressors that fought to destroy me; "Love, friendship and Erin, shall hence- forth employ me;"-- --"'Tis himself," she exclaim'd, "O ye pow'rs, ye o'er joy me, " Then blest be my country! blest Erin go bragh."