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The lay of an Irish harp

or metrical fragments. By Miss Owenson
(1783-1859)

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[section]
 I. 
FRAGMENT I. THE IRISH HARP.
 II. 
FRAGMENT II. LA ROSE FLETRIE.
 III. 
FRAGMENT III. TO MRS. LEFANUE.
 IV. 
FRAGMENT IV. VIVE LA PLATONIQUE!
 V. 
FRAGMENT V. THE DRAWING-ROOM.
 VI. 
FRAGMENT VI. THE DREAM.
 VII. 
FRAGMENT VII.
 VIII. 
FRAGMENT VIII. THE VIOLET.
 IX. 
FRAGMENT IX. TO MRS. C*N*LLE.
 X. 
FRAGMENT X. THE BOUDOIR.
 XI. 
FRAGMENT XI. THE SPANISH GUITAR.
 XII. 
FRAGMENT XII. SPLEEN.
 XIII. 
FRAGMENT XIII. FANCY.
 XIV. 
FRAGMENT XIV. TO MRS. BROWNE,
 XV. 
FRAGMENT XV. THE MUSICAL FLY.
 XVI. 
FRAGMENT XVI. TO SIGNOR ALPHONSO PILLIGRINNI, LL.D.
 XVII. 
FRAGMENT XVII. CONCETTE.
 XVIII. 
FRAGMENT XVIII. HOME.
 XIX. 
FRAGMENT XIX. L'AMANT MUTIN.
 XX. 
FRAGMENT XX. TO-MORROW.
 XXI. 
FRAGMENT XXI. THE SENSITIVE PLANT.
 XXII. 
FRAGMENT XXII. TWILIGHT.
 XXIV. 
FRAGMENT XXIV.
 XXV. 
FRAGMENT XXV. DAWN.
 XXVI. 
FRAGMENT XXVI. SLEEP.
 XXVII. 
FRAGMENT XXVII. THE NOSEGAY.
 XXVIII. 
FRAGMENT XXVIII. L'AMANTE FURIOSO.
 XXIX. 
FRAGMENT XXIX.
 XXX. 
FRAGMENT XXX. THE MINSTREL BOY.
 XXXI. 
FRAGMENT XXXI. TO LOUISA.
 XXXII. 
FRAGMENT XXXII. CANZONA.
 XXXIV. 
FRAGMENT XXXIV. APATHY.
 XXXV. 
FRAGMENT XXXV. THE IRISH JIG.
 XXXVI. 
FRAGMENT XXXVI. THE SWAN QUILL.
 XXXVII. 
FRAGMENT XXXVII. JOY.
 XXXVIII. 
FRAGMENT XXXVIII. THE OATH.
 XXXIX. 
FRAGMENT XXXIX. LOVE'S PICTURE.
 XLI. 
FRAGMENT XLI. HEALTH.
 XLII. 
FRAGMENT XLII. EFFUSION.
 XLIII. 
FRAGMENT XLIII. CUPID TIPSY.
 XLIV. 
FRAGMENT XLIV. THE BRIDE.
 XLV. 
FRAGMENT XLV. WHIM.
 XLVII. 
FRAGMENT XLVII. THE BUTTERFLY.
 XLVIII. 
FRAGMENT XLVIII. VENUS AND CUPID.

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56

FRAGMENT XII. SPLEEN.

“Che s'altro amanta na piu destra fortuna
Mille piacer ne voglion un tormento.”
Petrarch.

I

Come, Apathy, and o'er me breathe thy spell,
Whilst I devote to thee those bosom'd treasures
Which feeling gave, and thou shalt sound the knell
Of my departed joys and dying pleasures.

II

For they were but illusions—senseless power!
And cheated while they charm'd the dazzled mind;
57

In joy's gay wreath, in pleasure's sweetest flower,
Nor bloom nor odour can thy vot'rist find.

III

Then come! and thou shalt be my god supreme,
And I will worship at thy gloomy shrine;
Nor from the light of memory shall beam
One ray, to shew that bliss or joy were mine.
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