'Twas on Transylvania's Bannat

• When the crescent shone afar,

• Like a pale disastrous planet

'O'er the purple tide of war

• In that day of desolation,

• Lady, I was captive made;

• Bleeding for my Christian nation

• By the walls of high Belgrade.'

• Captive! could the brightest jewel

' From my turban set thee free?"

'Lady, no! the gift were cruel,

'Ransom'd, yet if reft of thee.

• Say, fair princess! would it grieve thee 'Christian climes should we behold?"• Nay, bold knight! I would not leave thee • Were thy ransom paid in gold!"

Now in Heaven's blue expansion
Rose the midnight star to view,
When to quit her father's mansion,
Thrice she wept, and bade adieu!

Fly we then, while none discover! • Tyrant barks, in vain ye ride!' Soon at Rhodes the British lover

Clasp'd his blooming Eastern bride.

EXILE OF ERIN.

THERE came to the beach a poor Exile of Erin,

The dew on his thin robe was heavy and chill : For his country he sigh'd, when at twilight repairing To wander alone by the wind-beaten hill.

But the day-star attracted his eye's sad devotion, For it rose o'er his own native isle of the ocean, Where once, in the fire of his youthful emotion, He sang the bold anthem of Erin go bragh.

Sad is my fate! said the heart-broken stranger,
The wild deer and wolf to a covert can flee;
But I have no refuge from famine and danger,
A home and a country remain not to me.
Never again, in the green sunny bowers,
Where my forefathers liv'd, shall I spend the sweet
hours,

Or cover my harp with the wild-woven flowers,
And strike to the numbers of Erin go bragh!

Erin my country! though sad and forsaken,
In dreams I revisit thy sea-beaten shore;

But alas! in a far foreign land I awaken,

And sigh for the friends who can meet me no more!

Oh cruel fate! wilt thou never replace me

In a mansion of peace-where no perils can chase me?

Never again, shall my brothers embrace me?

They died to defend me, or live to deplore!

Where is my cabin-door, fast by the wild wood?
Sisters and sire! did ye weep for its fall?
Where is the mother that look'd on my childhood?
And where is the bosom-friend, dearer than all?
Oh! my sad heart! long abandon'd by pleasure,
Why did it doat on a fast-fading treasure!
Tears, like the rain-drop, may fall without measure;
But rapture and beauty they cannot recall.