The Sun.
London, England, 1823-01-01 00:00:00

POETRY.

MY BROTHER'S GRAVE.
( From the Etonian.)
Beneath the chancel's hallowed stone,
Exposed to every rustic tread,
To few, save rustic mourners, known,
My brother, is thy lowly bed.
Few words, upon the rough stone graven,
Thy name—thy birth—thy youth declare—
Thy innocence—thy hopes of Heaven—
In simplest phrase recorded there:
No 'scutcheons shine, no banners wave,
In mockery o'er my Brother's Grave.

No sound of human 641 or strife,
To death's lone dwelling speaks of life,
Nor breaks the silence still and deep
Where thou, beneath thy burial stone
Art laid in that unstartled sleep
The living eye bath never known.
The lonely sexton's footstep falls
In dismal echoes on the walls,
As slowly pacing through the aisle;,
He sweeps th' unholy dust away,
And cobwebs, which must not defile
Those windows on the Sabbath-day ;
And, passing through the central nave,
Treads lightly on my Brother's Grave.

But when the sweet toned Sabbath chime,
Pouring its musk on the breeze
Proclaims the well-known holy time
Of prayer, and thanks, and bended knet.;
When iustic crowds devoutly meet,

And lips and hearts to GOD are given,
And souls enjoy oblivion sweet
Of earthly ills, in thoughts of Heaven ;
What voice of calm and solemn tone
Is heard above the burial stone
What form in priestly Meek array
Beside the altar kneels to pray ?
What holy hands are lifted up
To bless the sacramental cup ?
Full well I know that reverend form,
And if a voice could reach the dead,
Those tones would reach thee, though the worm,
3ly brother, makes thy breast his bed ;
That Sire, who thy existence gave,
Now stands beside thy lowly grave.

DUBLIN MUSICAL.

The Dublin BEEF-STEAK CLUB recently assert).
bled for the first time this season. About ninety persons sat
down to dinner, the Earl of Rathdown (President of the Society)
in the chair. The selection of music was executed by a corn.
bindion of talent rarely witnessed. The following glees, from
Bayley's second Number of Melodies, wronged by Sir John
Stevenson. was loudly encored ,—" Hark, the Vesper Bell is
ringing ;" "Come, let us pass the Social Glass ;" 'and, " Bail I
Source of Joy." The words of the last we transcribe, as they
are original and beautiful

Hail, source of joy! that magic touch hath given
Spirit and eloquence to these mute chords ;
Sweet music, hail ! thou wakest thoughts of Heaven,
Linking unearthly sounds to earthly words.
Hearts own thy sway ! when countless voices raise,
Thro' echoing aisles, the song of prayer and praise.

The merry dance, the poetry of motion,
Owes all its charm, its very birth to thee ;
Footsteps as light as foam upon the ocean,
Bohb'd of thy measure, motionless would be.
hearts own thy sway j when youthful beauty,moves,
And seems to float upon the tune she loves.
Thy soothing cadence Nils affliction's slumbers ;
Thy nobler strains amuse the warrior's fire;
And well we know the pathos of thy numbers,
When little Cupid strings Apollo's lyre.
Hearts own thy any ! when lovers glide along
O'er waves whoie ripple mingles with their song. ,
This glee was admirably sung. A new M.S. glee, "By sil-
ver streams," composed for the occasion by Sir John Steven-
son, was most inimitably accompanied on the flute by Mr.
Adm. Mr. gayly having been invited to the dinner, his health
was proposed by the President, with thanks for the entertain-
ment his melodies had afforded the e.ompany ; Mr. B. briefly
returned thanks.—Amongst the many patriotic toasts giyen
was, " Our Brethren across the water, who so generously came
forward to relieve out suffering countrymen."