[Nov. 27, 1852.




From the bustling east to the idle west--
From the north to the southmost shore--
O'er the hill, through bog, in light, and fog,
You may travel all Ireland o'er.
Where energy, liberty, love, were dead,
Or in senseless stupor lay,
Hope-- smiling beams,
And its radiance streams
On the dawn of a brighter day.

The pestilence came like a quenchless flame
On the breath of a poisonous wind;
You might reckon its force and track its course
By the ruin it left behind:
Nor beauty, nor youth, nor sex was spared--
Its imssion was still to slay!
From the desolate past
There cometh at last
The dawn of a brighter day.

Though kindred fled from kindred dead,
They have found a home afar;
They have labour and rest in the beautiful West,
Where trusty brethren are.
And those who remain in their own dear land
While justice bears the sway--
Have prosperous lives;
For labour thrives
In the dawn of a brighter day.

What matter, although the pauper's rags
May flutter before the breeze!--
Dead leaves are seen 'mid the living green
Of the leafiest forest trees.
Though poverty lurks, and beggary works,
In the South, wherever we stray;
Yet, all around
Is increasingly found
The dawn of a brighter day.

Here many will find hearts warm and kind;
Maids beautiful, lithe, and sweet--
You might envy the favoured grass they press
In the tread of their naked feet!
A flood of melody swells the voice,
And stealeth the soul away:
'Tis beaty supreme
Fulfilling the dream
That told of a brighter day.

By head and hand, on sea and land,
The present its future weaves;
By hill and plain, or where ears of grain
Are gathered among the sheaves,
A spirit of love in labour lives,
Bringing health and wealth alway.
The night has flown,
The light has shone
'Tis the dawn of a brighter day!