Than could the substance of ten thousand soldiers
Armed all in proof, and led by shallow Ormond.

The night-this long and tedious night, at length gave way to the glare of the morning, which was that of the third of October. All was confusion and bustle; and the roar of the musquetry soon announced that the onset had commenced. On that eventful day, every Irishman did his duty; no heart betrayed its trust. Whereever the heat of conflict was hottest, the bright plumes of O'Niel were seen waving above the glittering ranks. Heedless of danger, he rushed to the cannon's mouth, and cut down the artillery-man at his gun; he rode through the English ranks, and overpowered the hundreds that opposed him. The day began to waver; the cool and determined discharge of the English lines made dreadful havoc in the Irish battalions; reinforcements came up; and exhausted and thinned, the efforts of valour began to stagger. Then, when desolation gushed along their lines, when the valour of the mighty dropped to its embattled bed, one high plume had ceased to dance; one towering helmet had sunk! Prostrate in the dust the Earl of Tyrconnel lay, senseless, joyless, cheerless, and inanimate. He had ventured too far; he was surrounded by the traitor Ormond's soldiery, and fell "the last single victim to millions in war." As the lance pierced his breast, a "Bloody Knife" was distinguished by many, hanging over his head.

The Irish were entirely defeated,-again subju-gated, and vilely trampled upon; nor did FitzGerald, Earl of Clancare, survive to tell the fate of his high minded companion in arms.

D. S. L..

BENEDICTION.

Then thus the Spirit:

Oh! it were idle to declare the charm
Of music, every heart consents with it.
I've hovered o'er the chapel of St. Mary's
At benediction, when the fragrant censer
Flung o'er the air its overpowering sweetness;
They know who breathe it ;-there has music risen
From the full organ, and the dilated throats
Of the choir, soft with the effluence of perfume;
And with the strains their hearts have soared away
Up to God's throne;-and with returning thought
Of what they were, their eyes were filled with tears
That they must linger on the earth awhile.

LETTER ON NOTHING.

Invenit mea musa nihil, ne despice munus,
Nam Nihil est gemmis, Nihil est preteosius auro.

PASSEANT.

Nothing my muse has found, spuru not the gift;
Nothing is brighter than the glittering gem,
Nothing more precious than the golden ore.

ANON.

MR. EDITOR,.

BEING not a little anxious to forward the success of your undertakings, and having moreover a petty ambition, to behold a production of mine, emblazoned on your pages, with a chance of thus being handed down to posterity as one of the literati of Oscott, I enter my cabinet, and seating myself comfortably in an arm chair, lay my head carelessly on my right hand, and begin most studiously to rack my brains for some subject for composition, and after the expiration of half an hour, suddenly awake as from a dream, and discover that my thoughts have been rambling in the undiscovered regions of the moon,

"Where rests in its nook Royal York's hot oration;
With each long address of each dull corporation:
Granny Eldon's salt tears, and the promised report,
Of the frauds and the faults of the Chancery court."

Foiled in this attempt to attain to immortality, I adopt a new method. A collection of books lies before me. As my eyes are carefully wandering over their coverings, the strange accoutrements of an antiquated magazine particularly strike my fancy. "Tooth and Nail" I immediately go to work and

Still

shortly discover a passage which just suits my purpose. My desk is rummaged over for a blank sheet of paper, two or three old stumps of pens are produced, and the ink-stand is instanter in requisition. Ideas, in crowds, throng upon my brain, all eager to make their escape. Here then I start in a hurry;—but stay!—not so fast!—my ècritoire is quite dry, that must first be replenished;—my pen is as square as a mushroom, and therefore must be pruned; and my candle sheds such an intolerable light, that I verily believe all the malignant spirits that dwell on this side of Erebus, have conspired together in baffling my attempts. maintaining my courage, with the greatest celerity, not without some degree of trepidation, I borrow an ink-stand, fashion a quill into something in the shape of a pen, and dab half an ounce of tallow upon the wick of my luminary to make it burn better. "Now," exclaimed I, "we shall do so. here's at it again!" The words are no sooner out of my mouth, than a most outrageous thump at my chamber door, shakes the whole of my apartment, and thrills my very soul with horror! My knees tremble; my hair stands on end; and my whole frame is so debilitated by the shock, that before I become quite insensible, I have but just time to subscribe myself,

Your obedient,

And humble servant,

PLEON.

THE heat of the desert was past
The sun was asleep in the west,
A child of Arabia,-the last,

Arose from his transient rest,

He mounted the steed of his youth,
He grasped his long lance in his hand,
He wept for each feeling of truth,
Arose for his woe-stricken land.

The Turk was abroad on the plain,
The Pacha had ruined his tent,

His tribe had been savagely slain,

His camp

had been brutally rent..

"Accursed be the fate of foes!

my

Unhappy their portion, their lot!
These soul-melting tears, and these woes,
Be never,—Oh ! never forgot!

"I fly with the winds from this place,
The demons of death have been here,
Of my home they have left not a trace,
Not a solace my bosom to cheer.

"They hacked with the sword and the spear. The child that I fondled and loved, They recked not affection's big tear,

Those feelings were ages removed.