The mountain sentinel. [volume] (Ebensburg, Pa.) 1844-1853, 1851-11-20
from ArfIur's Home Gqxet;.
The Meeting OF the Waters

! Irish melodies is that Known as .Trp Nrrr1xo
| OF THE WATERS" In the summer of 1907
MooRE paid visit to the vale of Avoca, in the
county OF Wicklow, where the rivers Avon and
Avoca meet, most lovely and enchanting snot
Ihls visit suggested the song which has since
been SO wide 4 tavorite and which has associated
| the vale OF Avoca with ali that is charming and
romantic
There is not IN this wide world valley so sweet
As that vale IL whose bosom the bright waters
meet
Oh. the last rays Of feeling and life must depart,
Ere the bloom OF that valley shall fade from my
heart.
Yet, II l-as not that had shed per the scene
Her purest Of chrystal and brightest Of green;
| Twas not her soft magic Of streamet or hill
/ Oh. no, 1t was something more exquisite still.
Twas that friends, the beloved of my bosom we're
near,
'ri," mad. every dear scene Of enchantrr snt more
uea,
And who felt how TIE best charms of nature
improve
When We see them reflected from looks that We
love.
Sweet vale Of Avocs; how calm could rest
In thy bosom Of shade, with the friends | love
best,
Where the storms that feel ia this cold world
should cease,
And our hearts, like thy waters, be mingled in
peace.
The vale of -Avoca, thus made classic ground,
thousands have since visited and the tourist
through Ireland would Is soon think of neglect
ink the lakes of Killarney the vals in whose
bosom the bright waters meet"
From among the many descriptions Of this
beautiful spot, We will select that given by an
American lady who visited Ireland, in l645. 1t
/. brief but eloquent. She says:
1t was Irelsnds summer twilight lingering
long, though 10th to draw the curtain closely
about bright isle ia q dark world like this. 1t
early il July, the rich foliage had attained
its maturity, and not scared leaf was sprinkled
on bush or tree, to warn that autumn near. For
the first mile the road smooth and broad,
lined with trees, and then a white gate with
white stone pillars, opening to some neat cottage
or domain the glowing stresks Of the setting
sun had not left the western sky, and glimmered
through the trees, while the air made fragrant
by the gentle shower, didused through body and
mind that calmness which seemed to whisper,
- Be silent; it is the Vale Of Avoca you
terins" We descended declivity, and the vale
opened upon at . Ia. Meeting Of the Waters"
The tree under which Moore sat when he wrote
the sweet poem had been pointed out to in
the morning. We stood the union Of
the two streams where til. poet says
'.Ther. i. not in the vide world valley so sweet,
4. the vale in whose bosom the bright waters
! sleep"
The rich variety Of wood the still, clear, Tmped
water; the hill and vale, in some parts dark and
wide, IN others light and soft, ever and anon re-
lieving the eye by some new variety; but above
all, the pleasant association that this vale how
, ever dark and deep its recegses, harbors not
venomous serpent or reptile--no not even the
buzz Of the mosquito is heard-made it unlike all
others. We rode three miles, scarcely uttering
a syllable all the while; holy repose seemed to
rest on this hallowcd spot, as when it first
! bloomed under the hand of its Maker, and imagi-
! nation was prompt to say, as no serpent has ever
coiled here, the communicating touch Of sin has
not left its impress.
Never did leave spot more reluctantly
it a night scene which never has faded from
nly eyes and hope never win.
"Oh. the last rays of feeling and life must depart,
Ere the bloom of that valley shall fade from my
heart"
a. In the deep silence the voice of God and the
soft whisper of angels seemed to be there
Their voices said kindly, There is mercy yet for
poor erring man. 1t appeared like the bow of
the covenant, telling us to look and remember
that though this world has been nursed by sin,
yet a new heaven and earth has been promised,
of which this is a shadowy resemblance
The borders of this valley interspersed
with gentlemen's seats, and here and there dotted
with the white washed cottages of the peasants !;
and the rich cluster of foliage upon the hill sides,
upon bush and tree, almost persuaded you that
! the dew of Hermon has fallen upon them. Stran-
ger, when you visit Ireland, visit the Vale of
| Avoca. If you love God, here you will see him
| in picture that must be read; if you stay to be
limited waste it not in decyphering time-de-
faced stone, telling the bloody deeds of some an
cient warrior, or the austerity Of some long-ived
ascetc; but linger in this spot; stop at the neat
| little hotel erected on purpose for the accommo-
dation of the stranger and morning, noon and
night explore its never-dying beauties of light
! and shade. Three times did go through, and
when 1 turned away, felt that
AZ could stay there fsrersy to wander and weep