While now the sun’s declining ray
    Is faintly o’er Slievegallin thrown,
Leaving the last pale streaks of day,
    Light gleaming in the west alone.

Beside my Brother’s Grave I stand,
    Surrounded by an ivied wall,
O’er which, time’s fell-destroying hand,
    No more impressively can fall!

For Ruin long has marked the spot
    Where DEZERTLIN once proudly rose—
But now neglected, and forgot,
    ’Midst Erin’s wrongs, and Erin’s woes.

Then calmly sleep, my brother, here,
    Where o’er thy head the brier bends, [Page 153]
Now sprinkled by a falling tear,
    Which sorrow from the bosom sends.

And may the sycamore long fling
    Its sacred shade, in leafy pride,
Along thy grave, till death shall bring
    My heart to moulder by thy side.

And here, where thousands sleep around,
    For ages in their dreary bed,
We’ll rest, beneath this little mound,
    ’Till God’s last mandate wake the dead! [Page 154]