XXXIV.

SHIEL'S REPLY TO LYNDHURST.

What! shall he brand our name with “alien,"
And none stand up to wipe the stain away?
Where are the heroes of that bloody day,
Decisive Waterloo? Say, Hardinge! When
Host rush'd on host, the slaying o'er the slain,
Urged by their mighty leaders to the fray,

If there were those who shrank with dire dismay, Were they the sons of Catholic Irishmen?

When Europe's safety in the balance hung,

Creeds were not made distinctions, all must fight—

English, Scotch, Irish, into phalanx flung,

Fought, bled, and triumph'd o'er the foeman's might: How base, then, is that heart, how vile that tongue,

That deems them "aliens" when they ask their right!

XXXV.

ADDRESSED TO MY MOTHER-1843.

1.

Mother! thou know'st how truly I am thine
By ties of sympathy as well as blood;
Warm from my bosom, in a gushing flood,
My best affections still to thee incline;
Thy breast has been to me a holy shrine,

Where love unselfish, glowing gratitude,

With all that makes us kind, or leaves us good,

In one unchanging sentiment combine.

I hold naught dearer than thy power to bless,
As o'er the varied scenes of life I rove-

Not e'en the warm, impassionate caress,
Meeting or parting with the maid I love :

A mother's love! while I such boon possess,

I scarce would change my state with saints above!

XXXVI.

2.

Thy love was like a sheltering tree, that grew Over the stream that fed it;—thine embrace Was not more warm when first mine infant face Thou didst behold, than at our last adieu; Untiring, eager, generous, and true,

Thy tenderness hath with my years kept pace, Seeking all sorrow from my brow to chase, And holding truth and virtue up to view.

Thanks! grateful thanks! I have not all deserved,
I plead me guilty to a wayward will;

Yet thou didst chide so mildly when I swerved,
That I returned to love thee better still;
Thy warning counsel has my spirit nerved,

And proved an antidote to many an ill.

XXXVII.

3.

As age accumulates upon thy brow,
And all thine energies become less warm,

Securely rest on my more vigorous arm,-
Time the protectorship reverses now.

If, by God's blessing, health and strength allow,
My toil shall comfort thee; secure from harm,
No dread of want thy last days shall alarm,
Nor workhouse insolence thy spirit bow.
Mother, though dim thine eye, yet many a day,
While blithe I sported, didst thou toil for me
Along no path of flowers, but a rude way,
Beset with hardship and with poverty.
May I the debt that's due in part repay

By feeling grateful, and by aiding thee!

XXXVIII.

4.

Dost ask why I have joined thy name to song?
Lo! how the ivy round the oak entwines!
Thus round thy worth these transitory lines
Enwreath themselves, existence to prolong:
My Muse, now noteless 'mid the busy throng,
If in her lay a parent's virtue shines,

A pleasing theme unto her numbers joins,
To warm the heart, and linger on the tongue.
Though Fame pass by, a better guest, Content,
Dwells ever with us, making all serene;
And hope is sometimes to my vision lent,
That, after we resign this earthly scene,
These lines shall be our humble monument,

O'er which remembrance shall in fondness lean.