Irish Jesuit Province

To the MuseAuthor(s): Eugene DavisSource: The Irish Monthly, Vol. 17, No. 197 (Nov., 1889), p. 586Published by: Irish Jesuit ProvinceStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/20497970 .

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586 The Irish Af1anthl.

TO THE MNUSE.

HINE anl'ber tresses mask the shades of eve, 1 0 Muse superb, sweet Sybil of my soul

The myriad lights, that sun the poet, weave,

Around thy brow a mystic aureole.

0 Muse superb, sweet Sybil of niy soul !

How fair thy neck ! how Paphos-white thine hands: Thy face sheds lustre on the clouds that roll

In darkening moods o'er Fancy's shifting sands.

How fair thy neck ! how Paphos-white thine hands

Not of this earth, or earthly, be it said, But with the seal upon them of the lands

Whose breath is life, whose bosoms hold no dead.

N:ot of this earth, or earthly, be it said,

Art thou, my Muse, but spiritually blest:

Oh, let me dream, and, dreaming, lay m-y head

Upon the singing glories of thy breast!

EUGE)NE ,)DAVIS.

SKETCHES IN 1111811 BIOGRAPHIY.

No. 18-SIR JOhN O'SiiAxAssv.

IT was on the 26th of July, 1839, the "William Metcalf," having on board some hundreds of British emigrants, sailed

from Plymouth Sound, and, after a voyage of nearly fo-ur months, cast anchor on the 15th of November in the Bay of Port Philip. Among the first who came out of the then stragglinag village of MelbouLrne to visit the emigrants onl board was a young Irish priest, who had himself arrived there only in the preceding May. As soon as it became known that a priest had come on board, tle Irfsh emigrants pressed forward to meet him, but the first to advance from the crowd and to grasp his friendly hand was a tall, slight, but athletic young fellow, who had evidently seen but little

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