The deeds of our sires, if our bards should rehearse, Let a blush or a blow be the meed of their verse! Be mute every string, and be hushed every tone, That shall bid us remember the fame that is flown.

But the dark hours of night and of slumber are past,
The morn on our mountaing is dawning at last;
Glenaladale's peaks are illumed with the rays,
And the streams of Glenfinnan leap bright in the blaze

Oh high-minded Moray!—the exiled!--the dear!— In the blush of the dawning the standard uprear; Wide, wide, on the winds of the north let it fly, Like the sun's latest flash when the tempest is nigh!

Ye sons of the strong, when the dawning shall break,
Need the harp of the aged remind you to wake?
That dawn never beamed on your forefathers' eye,
But it roused each high chieftain to vanquish or die.

Awake on your hills, on your islands awake, Brave sons of the mountain, the frith, and the lake! 'Tis the bugle-but not for the chase is the call; 'Tis the pibroch's shrill summons-but not to the hall!

"Tis the summons of heroes to conquest or death, When the banners are blazing on mountain and heath; They call to the dirk, the claymore, the targe,

To the march and the muster, the line and the charge

Be the brand of each chieftain like Fin's in his ire! May the blood through his veins flow like currents of

fire!

Burst the base foreign yoke as your sires did of yore, Or die like your sires and endure it no more!

AMBITION..
-Neal.

I loved to hear the war-horn cry,
And panted at the drum's deep roll;
And held my breath, when flaining high
I saw our starry banners fly,
As challenging the haughty sky,

They went like battle o'er my soul:
For I was so ambitious then,

I burned to be the slave of men.

I stood and saw the morning light,
A standard swaying far and free:
And loved it, like the conquering flight
Of angels, floating wide and bright,
Above the stars, above the fight,

Where nations warred for liberty;
And thought I heard the battle-cry
Of trumpets in the hollow sky.

I sailed upon the dark blue deep,

And shouted to the eaglet soaring;
And hung me from a rocky steep,
When all but spirits were asleep;

And oh! my very soul would leap

To hear the gallant water's roari !g:
For every sound and shape of strife,
To me, was but the breath of life

But I am strangely altered now

I love no more the bugle's voice-
The rushing wave-the plunging prow-
The mountain with its clouded brow,
The thunder when the blue skies bow
And all the sons of God rejoice.
I love to dream of tears, and sighs,
And shadowy hair, and half-shut eyes.

THE TITHE BILLS.-O'Connell.

The following estimate of O'Connell is said to have been written by Bulwer:

"O'Connell was successful alike at the bar, in the senate, and before assembled thousands of his fellow-citizens and fellow-countrymen, exhibiting an almost solitary instance of eminence in the various modifications of style necessary for his different audiences. O'Connell occupies one of the highest stations among modern ora tors. The whole course of his éloquence, as well in Parliament as out of doors, is rapid and sonorous, and whenever he speaks he bends, or sways, or alarms, or soothes, at pleasure, the passions of his hear. ers. He was master of the eloquence which sometimes tears up all before it like a whirlwind, or at other times steals imperceptibly upon the senses and probes to the bottom of the heart-eloquence which engrafts opinions that are new, and eradicates the old. In graphic and heart-rending descriptions of scenes, whether of weal or of woe, O'Connell surpassed all competitors. Most soul-stirring was the debate on the Irish tithe bill, when he thus depicted the scenes of blood that had been perpetrated in Ireland, 1835."

The tithe bills were continued; laws [assed, with Bome cessation from time to time, but the innate sense of injustice, the conviction of wrong, arising from the payment of a sinecure Protestant clergy by a Catholic population, overturned the boundaries of law; broke asunder the parchment chains of the acts of Parliament; the dungeons were filled, the convict-ship was crowded, even the scaffold was reared, and blood has been shed in oceans, but shed in vain.

2. Is it not time to put an end to such scenes of atrocity? Blood is flowing still; even now, is not Rathcormac red with human gore? I do not mean to canvass the merits of this melancholy event, which is under progress of legal inquiry; but two magistrates, who are implicated in the matter, have presided over the investi gation.

3. A poor woman has been examined. Have honorable members read her statement? The mother was with her child in the morning. After the affray, she went out to look for her son. turned over she shouted for joy. man blood had been spilled? human being had been sacrificed? Ah! no; but be cause it happened not to have been her son.

The first body she Why? Because huBecause the life of a

4. She had a similar shout of joy looking in the countenance of the second murdered man; but the third was her son; from that moment her eyeballs became as coals of fire, and she did not shed a single tear. That woman's tears have not yet begun to flow. When is she to have redress? She is to have no re

dress, and the cause of her woe, the grand evil, is stil to remain in Ireland.

5. We are still to follow up the old cause, giving new acts of Parliament, but no new principle, no new spirit unknown to our predecessors, and leaving all the evils of the tithe system substantially untouched and in full operation. What does it signify whether the designation be tithe or tithe composition, or land tax, or rent charge; magical as names are supposed to be will that verbal magic do away with the intolerab terminable injustice o the impost, 30 obnoxions MHelf?

UNIVERSAL RELIGIOUS LIBERTY.-Daniel Connew.

Can anything be more absurd and untenable than the argument of the learned gentleman, when you see it stripped of the false coloring he has given to it? First, he alleges that the Catholics are attached to their religion with a bigoted zeal. I admit the zeal, but I utterly deny the bigotry. He proceeds to insist that these feelings, on our part, justify the apprehensions of Protestants. The Catholics, he says, are alarmed for their Church; why should not the Protestants be alarmed, also, for theirs? The Catholic desires safety for his religion: why should not the Protestant require security for his? Hence he concludes, that, merely because the Catholic desires to keep his religion free, the Protestant is thereby justified in seeking to enslave it. He says that our anxiety for the preservation of our Church vindicates those who deem the proposed