This very superior female, both in mind and acquirements, was a native of the Sister Isle. Her beautiful poem of Psyche will be remembered as long as elegance and classical taste can excite admiration, nor will her minor poems be soon forgotten. With the profits arising from the publication of these effusions of genius, a Hospital Ward has been endowed and attached to the House of Refuge, (a charitable institution formed by her mother, in the county of Wicklow,) which is called "The Psyche Ward."
The following verses were the last production of this highly gifted and amiable being, penned only three months before her death, and under the pressure of an illness plainly prophetic of a fatal termination.
ON RECEIVING A BRANCH OF MEZERON, WHICH FLOWERED AT WOODSTOCK, IN DECEMBER, 1809.
Odours of Spring! my sense ye charm
With fragrance premature,
And since these days of dark alarm,
Almost in hope allure.
Methinks, with purpose soft you come
To tell of brighter hours,
Of May's blue skies, abundant bloom,
The sunny gales and showers.
Alas! for me shall May in vain
The powers of life restore;
These eyes that weep and watch in pain
Shall see her charms no more.
No, No, this anguish cannot last;
Beloved friends, adieu!
The bitterness of death were past
Could I resign but you.
But oh! in every mortal pang
That rends my soul from life,
That soul, which seems on you to hang,
Through each convulsive strife;—
Even now with agonizing gasp
Of sorrow and regret,
To all in life its love would clasp,
Clings close and closer yet.
Yet why, immortal vital spark!
Thus mortally opprest?
Look up, my soul, through prospects dark!
And bid thy sorrows rest.
Forget, forego thy earthly part,
Thine heavenly being trust;
Ah! vain attempt; my coward heart,
Still shuddering, clings to dust.
Oh ye, who soothe the pangs of death
With love's own patient care,
Still, still, retain this fleeting breath,
Still pour the fervent prayer.