Daily National Intelligencer

Tuesday, November 21.

TO THE EDITORS
Messrs. Gales & Seaton,

As you frequently devote to the Muses a column of your paper, the republication of the following beautiful verses, entitled, the "Island of Green," which appeared in the last number of the Shamrock, would, it is believed, prove highly gratifying to many of your subscribers. They are the effusions of James Sylvius Law, Esq. a young Hibernian, who recently arrived at New-York. This gentleman visits the U. States with an intention of being, as soon as the laws will admit, incorporated into our great republican family; prudently adopting the maxim of the illustrious American sage, that where liberty dwells, there shall be his country.

Often have his "Wood notes wild" re-echoed through the vales of Erin: plaintively has he sung the wrongs and sufferings of his native land: but the dulcet tones of the Bard, though chanted with the melody of the grove, and attuned in unison with the purest patriotism, had not efficiency to ameliorate the condition of his denationalized countrymen--smoothe the way to their emancipation, or mitigate the disqualifications heaped upon them by their unfeeling oppressors. Hence, the determination of Mr. Law, to bid a lasting adieu to the Emerald Isle,

"Dear lovely bowers of innocence and ease,
Seats of my youth, when every joy could please,"

And sail to this far distant World in the West,
"Where the patriots dwelling with freedom is blest."

And may not a stranger, endowed with genius, visiting, under these circumstances, this last abode of liberty, anticipate a hospitable reception?-- May not the Irish emigrant, who cherishes a profound veneration for our institutions, reasonably expect an asylum in the United States, for the independence of which, a Montgomery, and
many others of his gallant countrymen, offered themselves willing sacrifices? But, independently of such considerations, the gentleman, who is the subject of these remarks, cannot fail, by his talents, amiable disposition, and faithful performance of his social duties, to secure the esteem of all those capable of appreciating worth. The writer of these desultory observations knew Mr. Law from his infancy, and he can, with truth, aver, that he is, to use the words of the Satiric Poet;

"Of wit,
Pleasing, though keen; of humour free, though chaste;
Of sterling genius, with sound judgment graced;
Of virtue, far above temptation's reach ;
And honour, which not malice can impeach"

A FRIEND TO MERIT.
THE ISLAND OF GREEN.
TUNE--"Lochaber."

DEAR Erin! I fly from thy ever green shore,
And those idols of life which my soul most adores :
I go to that far distant world in the West,
Where the Patriot's dwelling with Freedom is bless'd;
But deep are my sighs, as my footsteps depart
From the Eden of Zephyrs--the land of my heart,
And regretful remembrance is painfully keen,
When I think on my country, the "Island of Green!"

Yet why do I grieve from thy presence to flee,
When thy soil, so belov'd, was ungrateful to me?
I lov'd thee devoutly--no son could love more,
And for filial affection I'm forc'd from thy shore:
I sung of thy wrongs--and I told thy sad tale,
And poured thy complaints on the wings of the gale;
Yet my song--my endeavors--all fruitless have been,
To soften thy sufferings, dear "Island of Green!"

Ah! hapless Ierne! thy soil cherish'd foes
Account it a crime to enlarge on thy woes:
He suffers in int'rest--he's injur'd in fame,
Who against thy oppressors attempts to declaim
With a nation of strangers thy face is overspread,
And thy national spirit is slumbering or dead,
For the sons of thy bosom are calm and serene,
Whle they view thy afflictions, fair "Island of Green!"

Oh! Parent of Oaks! from thy vallies I go,
With a heart full of anguish, embitter'd by woe!
I part thee, my Erin! with grief troubled mind,
For I leave all my wealth of existence behind :
I wander forlorn from thy borders so fair,
While my heart's dearest treasures, I leave to thy care;
And soon shall the ocean spread distance between
The Lover--the Loved--and the "Island of Green!"

Now refluent Memory my sad bosom swells,
While my Fancy on faded felicity dwells :
With mournful remembrance I weep o'er the past,
And the pleasures that shrunk from heaven's avenging blast.
With light hearted youth, and his sweet-smiling train,
The scenes of my childhood return back again,
Empois'ning the present with joys I have seen,
When I thought of no heaven, but the "Island of Green!"

Farewell! lovely land, which no serpent defiles
Farewell! mother Erin! thou fairest of Isles!
On thy pillow of waves may'st thou peacefully rest,
While I range the wide world, a lone wanderer unbless'd!
Though homeless and friendless I go from thy shore,
To those regions, where cat'racts and waterfalls roar,
To the wild trackless forest, and rude mountain scene,
All my love shall repose in the "Island of Green!"

To thy true born Sons--to the patriot few,
And thy Daughters of beauty, a tender adieu:
May the former increase and replenish thy land,
And the latter the praise of all nations command;
Oh! may it be mine, ere Life's Eve-Star has set,
To revisit those plains which I leave with regret,
And find thee of smiles and of graces the queen,
My Country! my Erin! my "Island of Green!"

Grove, County of Antrim, Ireland.