The new North-west. [volume] (Deer Lodge, Mont.) 1869-1897, 1879-10-17
P 0 z T r 2.
THOMAS MOORE.

The following beautiful lyric poem was read b.
Oliver Wendell Holmes at the recent celebration, ii
Boston, of the Centennial anniversary of the brit
| OF the poet Moore:
1 Rachanter Of Erin, whose magic has hound ne,
Thy wand for one m0ment we fondiy would claim
Entranced while 1t summons the p antoms around US
That blush OF life at the sound Of thy name
The telltales of memory wake from their slumbers-
Ihear the old song with its tender refrain
What passion lies hid in those honey-voiced numbers
What perfume OF youth in each exquisite straini
| The home of my childhood comes back as vision
/ Hark Hark! A soft chord from Its song haunted
| sT,s a morning of May, when the air is Elysian-
The syringa in bud and the lilac in bloom
We are clustered around the "Clementi piano
There were six of us then-there are two of US
She 10 singing-the girl with the silver soprano
How "The Lord of the Valley" was fase to his
Let Erin remember the echoes are calling
Through. 1.-THE Vale OF Avoca the waters are
"The Exile" laments while the night-dews are
aThe Morning OF Life . dawns again as Of old.
But ah those warm love-songs of fresh adolescence
Around us such raptures celestial they flung
That 1t seemed as If Paradise breathed its quintes-
Through the seraph-toned-lips of the maiden that
sungi
Long hashsd .l are the chords that my boyhood en-
Yet still with their music In memory haunted,
And oft In my dreams are their melodies heard.
feel like the priest to his altar returning
The crowd that was kneeling no longer ia there,
The flame has died down, but the brands still
And sandal and cinnamon sweeten the air.
The veil for her bridal young Summer is weaving
In her azure -domed hall with its tapestried floor
And Spring the last teardrops OF May-dew fs leaving
On the daisy of Burns and the shamrock of Moore
How like, how unlike, as we view them together,
The song of the minstrels whose record we scan
One fresh as the breeze blowing over the heather
One sweet as the breath from an odalisQue's fan
The cage does net alter the song of the bird,
And the curtain of silk has known whispers as
As even the blossoming hawthorn has heard.
No fear lest the step of the soft-slippered Graces
Should fright the young Loves from their warm lit
For the heart of Queen, under Jewels and laccs,
Beats time with the pulse in the peasant-girrs
breast
Thrice welcome each gift Of kind Natures bestowngl
hcr fountain needs Nttle the g0Dlet We h0Q,
Alike, when it's musical waters are flowing,
The shell from the seaside, the chalice of gold.
The twins of the Tyre 10 her voices had lstened
Both laid their best gifts upon Libertys shrine;
For Scotia loved minstrel the holly wreath gistened
For Erin's the rose and the myrtle entwine
And while the fresh blossoms of summer braided
For the girdled, stream -silvered, akejeweled
isle,
While her mantle of verdure is woven unfaded,
While Shannon and Liffey shall dlmple and smile,
The land where the staff of Saint Patrick planted
Where the shamrock grows green from the cliffs to
the shore
Where the maidens are fair and the men are un-
daunted - Ill : r = =
Shall wreathe her bright harp with the garlands of
Moore