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Poems

By Edward Quillinan. With a Memoir by William Johnston

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AVONDALE.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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158

AVONDALE.

ADDRESSED TO A YOUNG FRIEND, AN ADMIRER OF AN ITALIAN LADY.

Boy! would'st thou have thy suit prevail?
Go lead thy heart's enchantress o'er
The woody steeps of Avondale,
That guard the stream of Avonmore.
Howe'er her partial mind pourtray
The graces of her bard's Vaucluse,
She'll there as charmèd haunts survey
As ever soothed the Tuscan muse.
For there from every zephyr's wing
A fairy spirit gently calls,
And there the waters wildly sing,
And there a mimic Sorga falls:
Though Arklow's woodlands proudly sweep,
And Aghrim boasts its golden ore;
Though wild is Cronroe's rocky steep,
And wilder yet is lone Glenmore;

159

Though Vartrey lightly bounding goes,
As coy yet playful childhood strays;
Though sweet Avoca sweeter flows
Since young Catullus sung its praise;
Let lovers roam o'er hill and vale,
Yet never shall their eyes explore
A fairer glen than Avondale,
A lovelier stream than Avonmore.
Then warmly while thy lips repeat
The liquid verse she loves so well,
Be sure her heart will kindly beat,
Be sure her breast will softly swell:
Dull must the lover be to fail,
Or else a frozen nymph implore,
Among the groves of Avondale,
Beside the stream of Avonmore.