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Each sun, with the worlds that round him roll,
SONG OF THE STARS.
For the source of glory uncovers his face,
Look, look, through our glittering ranks afar,
And see where the brighter day-beams pour,
Away, away in our blossoming bowers,
Glide on in your beauty, ye youthful spheres !
FROM THE “IRISH MELODIES."
Glide on in the glory and gladness sent
From the “ Irish Melodies.”
ET Erin remember the days of old,
Which he won from her proud invader;
On Lough Neagh's bank as the fisherman strays,
[Tuomas MOORE, the national poet of Ireland, was born in Dublin, in 1779. His poetical activity extended over a period of fifty years—from 1792, when he was contributor to a Dublin magazine, to 1842, when he revised a collected edition of his poems. His “Lalla Rookh" has been translated, not only into almost every European language, but actually into Persian. Moore lived till 1852, in the enjoyment of a liberal pension.)
FROM THE “IRISH MELODIES.”
He sees the round towers of other days
Thus shall memory often, in dreams sublime,
“ Sisters and brothers, little maid, How many may you be ?”
“How many ? Seven in all,” she said, And wondering looked at me.
“And where are they? I pray you tell.”
She answered, “Seven are we;
And two are gone to sea.
[William Wordsworth was born at Cockermouth, in Cumberland, in 1770, and died at Rydal Mount, in the Lake district, on the 23rd of April, 1850, in the Soth year of his age. His long and blameless life was passed chiefly among the glorious scenes of Nature he described so well ; for in the exquisite appreciation of natural beauty lies the chief charm of his poetry. His sonnets deserve to be far better known than they are as yet; and the steadily-increasing popularity of his works generally may be taken as an acknowledgment of their worth. Wordsworth succeeded Southey as poet laureate.]