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Taylor, J.R. Esq, M.D, New.
town Mount Kennedy
Ramsay, MrW, Mountmelick Thompson, Mr W, Dublin
Rabbit, Mr John, Trim Thorndale, Mr T, do
Rea, Mr Thomas, Trim Tiernan, Mr JM, do
Read, Mr Nicholas, Dublin Toole, Mr M, do
Reilly, Mr James, Dublin Treacy, Mr John P. do
Reynell, Mrs, Hamble-le-
Reynolds, Mr Jas. Dublin
Vickers, P.P, Esq, Vilibere
Shea, Mrs, Dublin
Sheridan, Mr M. Dublin
Shaw, Mr James F., do. WELLINGTON, His Grace the
Sinclair, Mr Alexr. Dublin Duke of
Slevin, Mr John, Dublin Walsh, Mr James, Rockview
Smith, Mr J. Leamore Wallace, MrWilliam, Dublin
Smith, Mr R.W, Dublin Warren, Mr E, Ballyhenry
Souter, Mr R, Dublin Wheeler, Mr, Rathdrum
Stewart, Mr Alxer. Dublin White, Mr P, Dublin
Stewart, Mr O. Dublin, Wilson, Mr John, Dublin
Sugrue, Mr C. Dublin Wilkinson, Mr J, Maryboro'
Woodrooffe, Henry P., Esq.
Woodhouse, Mr George, do Talbot, H W. Esq. Drum- Wright, Mr Thomas Edward condra Hill
Taylor, Mr A. C., Dublin Wright, Mr Samuel, do
WILD WICKLOW! from the wave-wash'd Head of
Bray, Along thy coast to Arklow's boat-speck'd bay, Thence, round the Churches, to the mountain ridge Linked to its mate by Poolaphouca Bridge ; What spot on earth like thee can meet the eyeWhat favoured land thy varied scenes outvie ?
HELVETIA vaunts her cloud-capt hills of snow, Whose gushing torrents drown the vale below, Her avalanche, whose giant limbs unbraced, The peasant's home lays desolate and waste, O'erwhelms in one wide ruin all his care, And leaves him its cold heritage, despair. The traveller paints ITALIA's sunny sky, And tips her hills with golden tracery; The poet sings the perfume of her bowers, And fills her dells with never-fading flowers.
But, Wicklow, unpoetic though thy name,
Wherever beauty's prized has spread thy fame;
Thy fir-clad peaks, thy rugged glens are known,
Unrivalled from the Tagus to the Rhone,-
Thy Meeting Waters, thy Cathedral halls-
The wreck of ages—and their moss-clad walls.
Who has not been, that country pleasure takes,
To the Seven Churches, and their placid lakes;
Or ne'er admired the Dargle's foaming pride,
Dancing in spray-wreaths down its rugged side?
Who that in Nature's sternness takes delight,
And loves to mark her in her wildest flight,
Hath miss'd the Devil's Glen, the Downs, the Scalp,
And conic Sugarloaf-the Irish Alp?
Oh Wicklow, though a thousand miles from thee,
Across the waters of the deep blue sea,
Where'er my footsteps chanced on earth to roam,
I've ne'er forgotten thee, my first loved home.
The lordly dome may deck the splendid town,
The palace on the humble cot look down;
But, tho' we boast not grandeur, pride, or wealth,
We seek content, and strive to culture health.
Our hamlet claims no baron's wide domain,
But well-built homesteads cover all the plain ;
And many a flower-encircled porch will meet
eye that wanders down the village street. No pools unscemly there offend the sight,