The joyous Lark is gone to rest and silent is the Dove,
For they cannot sing, like me, night and day;

I wander thro' the grassy vales amid the flowers I love,
And with every polish'd pebble pause to play.

No. XIX.

In the "Farmer and O'Reilly" collection we found this beautiful air, with the name of Conalan, and at first imagined we had got one of those lost airs of the elder Conalan, the loss of which Bunting so feelingly laments; and with great pride we arrranged it as a duet. But we have since traced it in Bunting's first collection, where it is No. 12, and named Maire St Seorse, Mailigh St. Seorse or Molly St. George; and is there, also, attributed to Conalan; Bunting's setting of it differs a little from that which we obtained from Edward O'Reilly, and we prefer our own because it keeps within the compass of the voice, and is every way more vocal.

The following "lines for music" contributed by our favorite "B." to a former number of our magazine, at once adapted themselves to this graceful strain :

LINES FOR MUSIC.

Cull not for me the flower that spreads
Its beauties to the noonday glare-
That, in the summer sunshine, sheds
Its fragrance through the blooming air.
'Tis like the false and fleeting love
That only lives in fortune's ray,
When all is bright around, above,
And with its sunlight dies away.

No, no! for me a chaplet wreathe

Of blossoms at the midnight born,
Which all night long their incense breathe,
And shrink before the beam of morn.
They're like that passion deep and true,
That hides from eye profane its worth,
Till silent sorrow's midnight dew
Draws all its gentle odours forth.

No. XX.

B.

This tune Tuta na naindear, Lutghair na naindear, "the Joy of the Maidens," was one of those collected long since by ourselves. Perhaps it may be inferred from the name that it was to be sung; but it has pleased us to bestow it on our readers-and their auditors-in simple shape of an air for the violin with an accompaniment. On the original copy it is marked with the words "Dance" and "Violin.”

No. XXI.

In Edward O'Reilly's collection we found several unpublished airs by Carolan, one of which we now present, entitled Conċobap na Rażallaig Cluan, Conchobhar na Raghallaigh Cluan: Connor O'Reilly of Clounish. Two other airs are also named, in the manner of our prolific Bard, after members of the O'Reilly family, from whom evidently they had come to our revered friend in the course of tradition among kindred. It is plain, from the traces preserved of the life of Carolan, that he seldom visited the old families of the country, without leaving with each, some memorial of his sojourn in an áir composed on the occasion, in grateful return for the hospitality shown to him; and possibly if the memo. randa of many an other family in the country were searched even yet, other relies of his muse might be discovered as well as those which we thus accidentally found preserved in that branch of the O'Reillys.