MOLLY MULDOON. And wherever Molly was he was there. His face was round, and his build was square, Of legs, to be sure, as are found anywhere. His caubeen and hair, With such a peculiar and rollicking air, Not a girl in Kildare, Nor Victoria's self, if she chanced to be there, With Jemmy--No gorsoon could equal him--None. At throwing the sledge with such dext'rous sleight,- Now Molly Muldoon liked Jemmy O'Hare, And in troth Jemmy loved in his heart Miss Muldoon. I believe in my conscience a purtier pair Never danced in a tent at a pattern in June, To a bagpipe or fiddle On the rough cabin door That is placed in the middle.- Ye may talk as ye will, There's a grace in the limbs of the peasantry there 161 That would keep up the longest, and go the best through All the jigs and the reels That have occupied heels Since the days of the Murtaghs and Brian Boru. An Irish courtship's short and sweet, 162 MOLLY MULDOON. Ties up his judgment neck and feet, And makes him the slave of a blind conceit? Sneer not, therefore, at the loves of the poor, Though their manners be rude their affections are pure; For their souls are not tempered in fashion's cold school. But the delicate instinct that springs from the soul, Whose very simplicity keeps it secure The love that illumines the hearts of the poor. All blushful was Molly, or shy at least, Jem procured her consent To go the next Sunday and spake to the priest. Shrove-Tuesday was named for the wedding to be, Light was his step and bright was his eye As he walked through the slobbery streets of Athy; And each girl he passed bid "God bless him" and sighed, While she wished in her heart that herself was the bride. Hush! here's the Priest-let not the least "Come, bridegroom and bride, That the knot may be tied Which no power upon earth can hereafter divide." MOLLY MULDOON. Up rose the bride and the bridegroom too, 163 And a passage was made for them both to walk through ; Looked round and tried To tell what he saw, but his tongue denied: With a spring and a roar He jumped to the door, AND THE BRIDE LAID HER EYES ON THE BRIDEGROOM NO MORE! Some years sped on, Yet heard no one, Of Jemmy O'Hare, or where he had gone. The strength of poor Molly had ever decreas'd; Till, at length, from earth's sorrow her soul, releas'd, Fled up to be ranked with the saints at least. And the morning poor Molly to live had ceased, An American letter was brought to the priest, Who, ere his death, With his latest breath, To a spiritual father unburdened his breast, That was never forsaken by one of my breed; "Saw what!" cried the Father, desirous to hear— And the chair that he sat in unconsciously rocking- God forgive her, A HOLE IN HER STOCKING!" CIVIL WAR. "R IFLEMAN, shoot me a fancy shot, Straight at the heart of yon prowling vidette; That shines on his breast like an amulet!" "Ah, captain! here goes for a fine-drawn bead, And dead from his horse fell the ranging dragoon. "Now, rifleman, steal through the bushes, and snatch That gleams in the moon like a diamond stud!" "Oh, captain! I staggered, and sunk on my track, "But I snatched off the trinket,-this locket of gold; "Ha! rifleman, fling me the locket!-'tis she, My brother's young bride,—and the fallen dragoon "But, hark! the far bugles their warnings unite; There's a lurking and loping around us to-night;— THE RETURNING JANIZARY. THE RETURNING JANIZARY.-FRANCES BROWN. HERE came a youth at dawn of day THERE From the Golden Gate of the proud Serai : He came with no gifts of warrior pride But the gleam of the good sword by his side, And an arm that well could wield; But he came with a form of matchless mould- On the dying Spartan's shield ; For the days of his boyhood's bonds were o'er, They brought him robes of the richest dyes, And they said " Since thou turnest from the towers Go forth in the Spahi's conquering march- Till a warrior's death unfold For thee the gates of Paradise, And thy welcome beam'd by the Houris' eyes." "And where will the yearning memories sleep, With a voice of winds in the forest free, To her wanderer's memory wears ;- 165 |