o tse IV < "ftlBNV-SOV^ AWEUNIVER^ % o ^HIBRARY^ «$E ^TJMNYSO^ %MAINIH¥^ ^OJITVJJO^ % • ^Auvaaii-i^ "3 <— '» V £> ^HDNV-SOl^ % ,5jtlE-UNIVER% vvlOS-ANCEl% <$HIBRARY0/ <$l ILKTI 11 £ - SL" — ^^ § & ** *£ •tfAavwn^ >t?Aavwn-^ ^UIBRARYO^ ^CAllFOfi^ i ^UBRARYO^ ^OFCAIIFO^ i 2 ^Jl I $ 4?AHVWn-?^ ^THOKVSO^ los wam ^lOSAJCflfc "SftaiUM IV? .\WU«VIR% vjaOSANCflfr- ^E-UBRARYOr. ^UIBRARYfl ^lwor-sm^ %ai\iMMv %hii\qjo^ %)jiiv3jo Ajtfl'KIVERta ^iosancfi/j^ U ORIGINAL POEMS. a ** • 8ftOIT i hmi TRANSLATIONS ANCIENT IRISH MANUSCRIPTS, AMD OTBtl POEMS. BY JAMES MARTIN. LONDON: numO FOB THE AlTHOft; rvRLMHio »r iriiwood, miir, abd jobbi, rirnnnortti BOW | BOLD BY C. CBAFPtR, PAJ.L-M ALL | J. BLACELOCK, moTAL BXCBUBOBI ABO BTBBT OTHEB BOOftlKLLKft IB I«B 0B1TBD BIRGDOM- 1811. #VLOIT7 j'vn .. A ..-.:. JTM J. G. Barnard, Printer, Skiuner Street, liondon. ta it»nt ♦ 111.! CONTEXTS. I>TRot>UCTOBY i IRISH POEMS. Dunsnaioe -----_. 5 Sulmalla ....... 22 'lial m 25 Reaorrar 84 ORIGINAL. To Fancy 3 Evening ....... 1 , To a Lady - - - 16 To the tame 18 To the same 10 To Memory ...... •_>,, To Dora ----... 32 To the tame ...... ;t ; t 8G1839 tl CONTENTS. T&ge. To a young Lady on her Birth-Day 34 The Pic Nic Party 37 The Suitor rejected ----- 43 The Rhyming Man put in Bodily Fear ) - - 47 To Pliancy - 56 The Viceroy's Festival - - - - - 58 Anomalous ----.--77 To a Malignant Old Woman - . - - 79 To the same -------81 To Miss Molly -.---- 83 The Old Man - - - - - - 105 'Tis only a Soldier thaf s Dead - - - 108 Once we were .----, no ADVERTISEMENT. 1 1 ■ from the dark wilderness of by-gone year*, there can be rescued any of the humbler sym- phonies of Erin's lovely, long silent harp, let none expect they shall be arranged with what the sons of the green isle never studied, regu- larity, and attention to time or place. Sweet as the breezes on which they were scattered, wild as the hills by which they were re-echoed, were the songs of other times; our bards, in the < u- thmiatm of the moment, threw on the rough mountain gale the bold anthem of liberty; or in the calm moon-light valley, breathed the gentler strains of love Ot |>it\. of DUXSNAINE.— A TAW Oh that I had a soul of fire To sing the valour of Dunsnaine, And wild grief of his gray-hair* d sire When told the gallant boy was slain. Oh that I had a soul of fire To sing the beauties of the maid, To whom was tun'd his early lyre, To whom his fond true vows were paid. " And who art thou? (the stranger said) 44 And who art thou wouldsl praise Dunsnaine ; " Rests not dishonour on the dead ? " Fell he not on Lennorrar's plain p " . . ! ■ ■ ( i 6 DUNSNAINE.- — A TALE. Yes — on Lermorrar's plain he fell — He fell — but not dishonour'd lay; No victory had the foes to tell, Dunsnaine was well reveng'd that day. itt Numbers, he with his few withstood, And gloried in th' unequal war ; His arm was death — his path was blood, His sword was pestilence's star. He sank — the hero sank o'erpower'd, The foemen's shouting's rent the sky ; Our warriors from their hills down shower'd, And soon they made the foemen fly. ■ They fled not safe — pursuit roar'd wide And fierce, and terrible, and strong ; Their blood the wave of Ithnor dyed, Gerthronner heard their funeral song. Stern Derthrul from afar returned, The friend whom Gormral's youth had won; He knew not that Dunsnaine was urn'd, That gray-hair' d Gormral had no son. -A TALE. 7 • Gormral (he said), thy boy is brave, ■ I heard his fame in distant lands :" The old man pointed to the grave, And silent wrung his aged hands. Derthrol was stern — yet Derthral wept — He wept — but he conceal'd the tear. " How long (he ask'd), hath the boy slept? I < 11 he beneath the foeman's spear? " Oh fye, old man, why dost thou weep ? " Why look'st thou still upon the grave? " Must we not all in darkness sleep ? ' \N hv weep' st thou? Was thy boy not brave? 1 ' Young Elma trembling came, and slow, The flowers of spring were round her head. She sanii the- wildest Mg of vvtie. For oh the sweet girl's mind was fled. 41 Oh where! Oh my lover! Oh where dost thou hide? •• In caves dost thou slumber? On storms dost thou ride ? 8 DUNSNAINE. — A TALE. " No; thou'rt borne on the soft breeze that whispereth along-, " And, thou mak'st to thine Elma the true lover's song". " Dunsnaine, Oh my lover ! Oh wouldst thou were here ! u Does Elma not love thee ? Dunsnaine dost thou fear? " Oh search this fond bosom, while life thro' it flows, " For thee how it trembles, for thee how it glows. w Oh sweet was thine eye-beam when first thou mad'st known " To Elma, thou lov'dst her, and lov'dst her alone, " And soft was thy fond voice, and sweet was thy tear " When thou last whisp'redst • Elma, my love, do not fear/ " And Oh Dunsnaine, where dost thou hide ? " And why art thou so long away ? TALK. " lit not the dark world drear and wide, " When thou dost from thine Elma stay? " Was he not like the mountain hind ? " Was he not like the valley's rose ? u Was he not like the snmmer wind * That o'er the lake of Lermia blows? More calm she now to Gormral turn'd ; Her look a foe's heart would have broke ; Her cheek with hectic flushings hurn'd, While thus she supplicative spoke : " Gormral (she said), why stays thy son ? " Didst thou not say, he'd soon return ? •• Where isDunsnaine? — the fight is done; " I saw the flame of triumph burn : " Didst thou not put into his hand M Thy sword, sod give thy father's shield ? " Didst thou not say— -gp~~bravely ttaud, ' Or bravely fall — but never yield. t , .>. 11 wmM 10 DUNSNAINE. — A TALE. " And Gormral, when I weeping came, " Saidst thou not, child, restrain thy tears, " Seek not to cloud the warrior's fame, " 'Twill brightness pour on future years ? " Oh Gormral, couldst thou feel the pain " That throbs, that burns, in Elma's heart! " Thou wouldst not hide from her Dunsnaine ; " Thou wouldst not bid her peace depart : " Gormral, my life is in thine hands ; " Oh, tell me, hath the ocean bore, " The brave Dunsnaine to distant lands ? " I'll seek him all the wide world o'er: " I'll seek him in the midnight wild : " I'll seek him in the desert drear ; " Blackness, where sun hath never smil'd, " Will charm me, if Dunsnaine be there." Pale was the stranger's cheek, and wan; His sunk eye had no healthful beam ; And from the stranger's heart seem'd gone The pulse of hope, the kindly flame. Ill N-NUNR.— A TAL*. il (ionnral in the glW ( " He ask'd, •* and is the maid laid low ? • \\ as tin; young Kothnor counted brave, •■ Who with DuiiMi.iiiif withstood tliefoe?" • Gormral nut yet hath found the totul>, I answer'd, " nor doth Klma sleep, 44 With wind return'd, \v ith faded bloom 44 The lovely lome-one lives to wet|>. Was Rothnor brave ?— he liis first field. " That day, fought on Lermorrar's plain \ " Destruction lighten'd from his shield, 44 He did outstrip the great Dunsnaine." 44 Hear me, Oh bard, the stranger said j 44 Hear me, and I will tell thee all : ,4 Duiisnaiue that day anions ad 44 Did not upon Lermorrar fall ! • ll« chaug'd Ins anus, li< < hangM Ins shield. lie chang'd the robe thai be had on, 44 With Rothnor; and thro* all the held. " None knew it, for their size was one. c2 12 DUNSNA1NE. — A TALE. " Rothnor lay low, the lost Dunsnaine " In shameful bonds was borne away : " Oh that he on Lermorrar's plain a Had died a glorious death that day. " Will e'er Dunsnaine with trembling breath, " Go whispering to his gray-hair'd sire, " And say, behold, escap'd from death, " Thy boy, whom thou didst once admire ? " Will e'er Dunsnaine cast o'er the maid, " Who lov'd the brightness of his fame, " A dark, an ignominious shade, " The cloud of a dishonour'd name ? " No, let Dunsnaine, the bondsman, g« " In silence to some distant shor«, " There potfr alone his secret woe, " And be forgot for ever more." He said, but while he spake, the beam Of life and hope relum'd his soul, And I could see the kindly flame Thro' all his veins tumultuous roll. DUNSNAINK. — A TALE. J3 And Oh ! that I'd a soul of fire To sing that hour's unmeasur'd joy, When once again, the gray-hair' d Clasp' d in his arms, his gallant boy. And Oh! that Td a soul of fire To sing what pulse the maid did move, When she again hoard that sweet lyre Whose first fond strains had sought her love. ( 14 ) EVENING. ' Mildly the evening's dews descend, Mildly the gold and crimson blend Their varying glories in the west, The hills with pnrple panoply Are richly crown' d — soft shadows fly. The poet's breast, Bv j°y possest, Now ardent burns ; while o'er his soul Imagination's wide waves roll. Such raptures flow, As none can know, Save he who feels the living glow. 15 \..u swrctly trembling on ln> ear, The music of departed bards Thrills to his heart, and thence discards Kurt I | groveling doubt and fear, TV anxieties of grief and pain Contemptible appear and vain. S.in \. wlm sinjr from worlds unknown, Say, is such l>li*s nnmiv'd your own, Unchang'd, unchangeable ? and given To man tiie anticipance of heaven ? Now does his strong I len'd spirit soar Illumined natiu*e to explore, Far above every shadowy gloom, On wings of fire uplifted flies Above the earth, above the skies ; Creation's womb, Creation's tomb, Infinitude, eternity, Wide spread, reveal'd, before him lie. 1 1 1- lightning lay Bursts on the day, And brighter flames while worlds decay. ( W ) ■ TO A LADY. When evening's last light gilds tlie hill, And breezes whisper soft and still, And fancy o'er my spirit steals, My senses mystically seals And wraps me in her magic dream : O'er that lov'd hour full rapture reigns, A poet's joy thrills thro' my veins ; My cares and sorrows sink to rest, Hope is rekindled in my breast ; My life seems as a pleasant stream That calm and silent glides away, To bear me to a brighter day. TO A LAD\ 17 All tlit priz'd rapture of that hour, And all the bard's creative power, Fondly and freely would I give For ever in thy looks to live, Thy looks of loveliness and light ; Thy soft soul-beaming eye to meet, And bask me in the "iinahinr sweet, To mark the mild blush rising slow With sparking, yet with chasten' d glow, Trembling more delicately bright Than morning's softest, purest (rye Shed lightly on a summer sky. But, lady, to thy gentle ear, Tin name of him by whom thou'rt snng Shall be rrveal'd — Oh! never, never, For lady the respect* 1 ii*r Of truest passion hinds lus tongue, And bids him to be dumb for ever. ( 18 ) TO THE SAME. woi How dull, how dark, my hours roll When from the honour' d of my soul, The lov'd, the worship'd of my heart Reluctantly compell'd to part. But oh ! when in her presence blest, f , What blissful tumult swells my breast! What glory brightens on mine eye, How swift the golden moments fly! ( ■ ) TO THE SAMK All thoughts are low, all words are weak, \1\ spirits ecstacy to speak, When thou, oh sweet, soft beam of heaven, Once more to my fond eyes art given! My eyes that could for ever gaze And still new loveliness discover: Who can define the mystic blaze Which warms the bosom of a lover? D2 ( m ) TO MEMORY. Thou, Memory, art a busy thing-; And many a joy, and many a sorrow Thou dost in quick succession bring, But Memory, canst thou bring to-morrow ?, Thou to the incautious bard canst say, " Thou'st let time pass, and time's a treasure ; " But Memory canst thou o'er to-day, The fair beam shed of coming pleasure ? f , No, Memory, thou canst only scold ; And scolded I'm enough already ; So Memory, when my blood grows cold, To thee I'll listen, and be steady. TO MEMOEY. 21 Meanwhile to Fancy, goddess bright, I bow, and own that she can please me ; She pours around me floods of light, \N lulst thou, dark Memory •, dost but teaze me. • ill the blast of the whirlwind that fair flower destroy? Lo, who is this aged man, over whose head The crown <>t white hairs it's mild lustre hath shcil P 'Tis the sire of Maronnan, 'tis Duthul the brave; Why wide are his arms thus distractedly thrown? Why bursts from his deep heaving bosom that groan ? Why turns he that wild look of woe to the wave? 24 SULMAIXA; A TALE. " Oh, Thellamar's sunbeam, Sulmalla (he cried) " Rejoice not, sweet virgin, thy warrior is low; " He fell by the dagger of his fierce dying foe, " On the field of his victory, he sank and he died." .' »» He said, and the gentlest of hearts never more One life-pulse dinWd thro' the loveliest of forms; Now lull'd by the roar of the ocean's rude storms, With Maronnan she sleeps in yon grave on the shore. CROMHAL; \ TAI \ Soft fell the breeze in Cltutha's glyn, The low brook whisperd sweetly there : Thro' fleecy veil wide floating thin, oh The full orb'd noon show' 4 sihery fair When ThoilmoT, bard of other days, Pour'd on the oirjit his song of woe. Slow — Mjleiun-exmndmc: were his lavs. And ha harp's cadence murmur' d low. Why (sang he) shmtflt Hup, oh niu Why tons II silent beauty ah**? Where hides the meleor s btnetnl light ? Their terrors, where can stomas nonfine? ■ 26 CRONTHAt; A TALE. Rises not high yon glittering tower? Wide spreads not yon deep-moated wall? Glories not there the strength of power? Yet there — even there — Heaven's bolt may fall. Age trembled not on Thorlmor's hand, Nor that, nor grief his heart had frozen ; Nor in the battle's front to stand Was Thorlmor slow, mid warriors chosen. When in yon palace Cronthal reign' d, Of high Temora's race the pride, Whose princely nature guile disdain'd; In whose brave bosom were allied The gentlest virtues, noblest powers, That human kind from heaven hath won : His words, the summer's fairest flowers; His deeds, the autumn's ripening sun. But Borbar, brother to his sire, Oh how unlike that reverenc'd king, Whose soul in war Heaven's fiercest fire, In peace was music's softest string. A TAIX. >' thy impious hands dominion hold, i. Thou art the snake of other lands, Poison thro' all thy veins hath roll'd ! This to thine ear let night-winds bring, j Blarknos li:ttii < lauii'd thee for her own; The song of praise no hard will sing nodi * To thee — thou'rt on a tottering throne. There dwelt Teniora's palace nigh Sela, the innocent, the young, Than whose ne'er beam'd a sweeter eye, Than whose ne'er uiov'd a gentler tongue. Heiress to Trathal's wide dumains, A Beatngh lord of wealth and fame, A thousand warriors to tlu ( bains Of hlisful bondage urgM their claim. 44 Why (fiorbar ask'd with wonted art) " Why seeks the king not maids of love? " Beauty's fond smile is to the heart ** More rich thau all the joys above. 12 28 cronthal; a tale. " Than Trathal's daughter, who more fair? " Than Trathal's daughter, who more kind? " All lovers are accepted there, " The king will not forbiddance find." He said — his words like death's cold damp WT Struck to the youthful monarch's soul; For there was fix'd the unsullied stamp Of Sela's virtuous image whole. His heart sank low — no word he spake, Sela, tho' false, he would be true : No dull ear from his lips should take The secret, Sela only knew. Days, weeks, and moons pass'd slow away. And still he gave his gallant breast To the destroying worm a prey; Nor song could sooth his soul to rest. I • He wander' d in the midnight wood, Silence and darkness reign'd around • An aged man before him stood, An aged man with sorrow crown'd. CBONTHAL; A Tiim ■ *Twas Twlhal of the generous mind, The spreader of the liberal feast, Whose boundless wealth flow'd unconiin'd. Whose hand uplifted the oppress'd:— 41 Cronthal (he said), thou chief of kings, 44 Thou idol of a people's love*,*! W< " Hear thou the message Trathal brings, •' Thou hii^hlv favoured from above. * Tratbal thy father's battles fooght, " And greatly lov'd he thee — his son — Hear, what reward his age hath brough 1 . " Hear, what his loyalty hath won: ■II ■ fear brave boys in honour high, Pell to add j th\ thron. ; •• Yet still upon his evening sk\ ■ One sweet beam mildly, gently, shone. ** Sela, the innoecnt remain'd • Last light of his dim glimmering years, • Smil'd thro' her sorrows and restraint •• A bereav'd father' s bitter tears.' *m oT 30 cronthal; a talis. " Thou woo'dst her in the lonely bower, " She weakly to thy love complied ; " Thou woo'dst her, in an evil hour, " Thou didst desert her — and she died. " Dying, she falter' d forth thy name ; " She told her long, her secret grief; " She told her father all her shame — " An old man's tedious — this be brief." He said, he drew the dagger forth Which ? neath his robe conceal'd he held ; He pierc'd a valiant heart of worth « ill As ever generous ardour swell' d. The youth resisted not — he sigh'd, But shrank not from the deadly blow ; And while his blood the green sod dyed, These were the words he whisper'd low : — * Sela, thou wilt nor frown nor turn " From Cronthal in thy native skies, " When franchis'd from this earthly urn " To meet thee he rejoicing flies. CRONTHAL; A TALK. 31 ** Yet there still clings one lingering pain To Cronthal's heart, and stays his breath; • 4 Borbar will o'er his people reign, The base will glory in his death." Too true he spake — soon tales of woe Alone had Erin's harp to tell : Truth — Mercy — Justice were laid low, The deep dark hour when Cronthal fell. B Imq .» ( 32 ) TO DORA. - ■ Didst thou ever the morning's mild glories be- hold On the light trembling wave of the summer- lake shed? Round the hill hast thou seen evening's mantle of gold Overshadow'd with purple luxuriantly spread? These are lovely — but are they as Dora's soft smile? Hold they the wrapt spirit in entrancement so sweet? Every tedium of life, have they pow'r to beguile? And can they every pulse make with ecstacy beat? ( M ) TO THE SAME. Danger — if danger in those eyes Of heavenly softness ambush' d lies; Refuge or sanctuary where On earth to find, I know nor care. This know I ; that spellbound I gaze, Happy to bask m beauty's bla/«\ Eves though to certain death I run ; A death so blissful, who would shnn ? ( 34 ) TO A YOUNG LADY ON HER BIRTH-DAY. Say why ye thus wanton, ye amorous gales ? Say why these rejoicings ye bear thro' the vales ? Say why does yon lark pour his gladsomest lay To welcome the day, While on ecstacy's wing He soars to the mild beaming heaven of the spring? Say, why look the wide spreading landscapes so bright? Why on every flower shines the rapturous tear? Why swells the stream's music so sweet on the ear? And why thro' the grove steals the sigh of delight ? TO A YOUNG LADY ON ITKR BIRTH-DAY. 36 " Ami who art thou, stranger, that aski >t the cause 44 Why we joyously wanton, and whisp< r applause? •• \Vh\ all nature is glad, why all landscapes look &*y ? •■ To welcome the day, " On which born was the maid, 44 Who's the pride of the hills, who's the joy of the glide: " Whose smile is bewitchment — whose melodied sigh " And mild blush are the calm evening's rays on the hill | " Her voice the mnoUharp's last inurnmrinir trill; 44 Hope's magical wand, the soft beam of her eye." But Mary, the bard who with lowliest lay Presumes to approach thee, has more yet to say ; For he loves thee too dearly a part to conceal, Thou flattery's tale Art oft destin'd to hear, Let the words of sinoereness be sooth to thine ear. W% 86 TO A YOUNG LADY ON HER BIRTH-DAY. When the angel of innocence joyfully came With the signet, to stamp in thy bosom of youth The impressions of purity — gentleness — truth, He saw not 'twas needful to fix heaven's flame, That burns on thy heart with a wavering blaze : He saw not thou'dst love admiration's strong gaze, Which if sought ndt, all mankind would humbly bestow. He saw not thou'dst know, With a too conscious pride, That the spells of thy beauty are thrown far and wide. He saw not as I have oft sorrowing seen Thy varying temper — thy varying mien. But as spots tho' discern'd on the face of the sup, Yet he life, hope, and joyousness yields not the less, So thy blemishes mar not thy power to bless, And the man who hath won thee hath blcssfalness won- ( 37 ) I HE PIC NIC PARTY, Says the warrior of Scotia, the lover of fun, " W e must have a party, as sure as a gun; " By the powers of grim griffin-hoof we'll have a party! " Will outdo the splendour of old Durandartt Be Mid — nor the joy-giving thought cast away, But consulted the ladies and vtiWd the day. The day, like most other days, follow'd the night, The water was calm, the boats roomy and tight ; On the opposite shore tiny soon puur'd tbrth their The beautiful dames, the dispensers of pleasure*; The way lay not long, nor yet rough to the grove ; 'Twos Made shorter by laughter and onootber by lore. 38 THE PIC NIC PARTY. A few paces distant, and hid by the trees, The pipers stood ready with music to please : The baskets were emptied, the tables were spread, The divine Lady Pic Nic was plac'd at the head. How sweet was her smile ! how fresh blooming her cheek ! Who could know it was roug'd ? but illnature will speak, . And illnature hath whisper' d that soft heaving breast Can to malice or envy relinquish it's rest: And illnature hath whisper'd, that smooth flowing tongue Hath sometimes with tales of malevolence rung. Next her, wrapt in deep thought, sat Miss Fanny the sage, Who to softness of youth unites sapience of age: What of youth ! — Yes, of youth ! — if the muse may have leave, The days that are past from oblivion to save;. THE PIC NIC PARTA JO RJteen winters ago she was not very old, Nor yet very lovely — if truth must be told. Im tfu jrrav* --looking, slow -speaking, wis* Captain Clear, - Where's the Major, Miss Fanny ; I hope he'll be here ? M The sorrowful lady her long silence broke, And with mouthful of apple-pie answering spoke: " The Major this morning fell out of his clothes, Hurt the calf of his leg, rubb'd the skin off hi* nose; " His ancle besides got a terrible blow, " Ami the nail is entirely knock'd off his great toe." She said — her soft accents persuasively fell, And every heart wish'd the poor Major was w. 11. For a moment and longer, a t pause, To him spoke their pity — to her their applause: " Come, we're long enough mute, like a parcel of fishes, * If at home he's not here (cries the consort of Nicias) ; 40 THE PIC NIC PARTY. " I hate all this bother about bruises and scratches, " We might whimper and whine was the man under hatches." Here the sweet Miss Penelope lifted her head, Grew paler than wont, and with sentiment said, u Pray talk not of deaths— 'twill our spirits de- : stroy — " Methinks music is lacking to renovate joy." The hint was soon taken — the pipers struck up " Rule Britannia," " Pope Joan," and " Fill t'other cup." The ladies laugh' d gaily — the gentlemen chatted, Nor once turn'd a thought towards the poor folk who squatted On seats made of baskets and rubbish and stones, Look'd hungry enough while they pick'd their bare bones; There Galen the pious, Archimedes the wise, By turns lick'd their fingers and roli'd round their eyes. ic nic PAjmr. 41 Archimedes now threw up his spectacled i Hemm'd three times, stretch'd his legs and ex* claim'd " I propose, * I propose we've a walk — there's a ruin hard by, " Well wortliy the ken of philosophy's eye: " Whoso wisheth for wisdom, there wisdom may win; " I like not this music, it savoureth of sin." " Yea, verily, brother (Meek Galen replied) " It savoureth of folly — he said — and he sigh'd." The light-heart* <1 little chief now stretch'd his chin From the foot of the table, and said with a grin, " The pipers I fear will come off second best, " They'll have for their share but the smell of the feast" 44 La me (Lady Pic Nic replies) half a leg " Of a turkey remains on my plate, which I beg " 1 may be permitted again to restore " To the dish for the pipers — I can't eat no more.** This adjusted, the pipers as well as they could, Emptied plates, dishes, glasses, and warm'd their blood, o 42 THE FIC NIC PARTY. Then with wames not too foil began puffing and blowing, While Nicias himself set the dancers a-going ; And a right merry evening they had of it then, And they parted determined to meet soon again. C 4*3 ) THE SUITOR REJECTED. Amidst her chicks Dame Hubbard sat, Beside her purr'd her favorite cat ; Nor cat nor chickens Hubbard heeded, Hi i nuiid for other pastime needed: " Daughters (she said) dear daughters list, " Your mother lores a game of whist ; " Her joy, her ornament, her crown, " In whist are center' d — fetch my gown!" Adoru'd, die waddled forth in state, N..r st(»j)|»'il till fronting Nil md irute. Now Nicias* wife was feeding her ducks, And would not come to my Lord Murdock'f ; Hubbard being huffy, scorn'd to stay, But bent her course another way. G2 44 THE SUITOR REJECTED. To Lady Pic Nic's next she trotted; But Lady Pic Nic — so 'twas lotted, Had, gone to town to see a rare show, A magpie fighting with a scare crow : To more than now the muse can name She pac'd — but it was all the same; One out — another busy employ'd, All her high hopes of bliss destroy'd: Cross'd, disappointed, flurried, fagg'd, Her hobbling steps she homeward dragg'd : There with her chicks in social chat, Well pleas' d a veteran soldier sat; He talk'd of long-past perilous wars, And shOw'd his honourable scars: Smiling, he now addresses Hubbard, " Madam, I'm come to rob your cupboard." " What want you?" ask'd she, not too civil, And gave a look would fright the devil: " A posey for a soldier's breast, 0M * Madam (he answer' d) guess the rest." The dame already rather vex'd With riddles to be thus perplex'd, OR Was more than she could bear : she snapp'd Her fingers, and a-kimboe clapp'd Her elbows, while upon the lout Wrathful she frown'd, and cried, " speak out' " Attracted by your daughter's beauty. •• Madam, 1 tome to pay my duty; " Her soft eye's silent eloquence " KiiMian s inv every ravish'd sense. ** Cannons I've fac'd — love makes me tremble — " Madam, a soldier can't dissemble/' The dame felt proud ; 'twas many a year Since words like these had touch'd her ear : But th' evening's disappointment yet Her heavenly temper kept afn The hall door she threw open wide, " Begone, you ruffian — off" — (she cried) He went, and swore he would not com The dame well knew he wis a rum jack. Bacon and cheese she took for supper, And laid in bed her wearied crupper. She dream'd of antiquated maids Iu hell's deep desolated glades; 46 THE SUITOR REJECTED. Old greasy leather breeches mending With needles blunt ; no thimbles fending" Their poor old fingers from the steel. What heart so hard that would not feel Such sights of sorrow ? sure not her's ; She screw' d her mouth up like a purse, And in the morning sore relented, Her spleen upon the soldier vented. iiJ ( 47 ) THE RHYMING MAN PUT IN BODILY FEAK *. It happ'd at that heav'ti-minded dame's, Whom some wag Coila Bearagh names, The high and mighty were collected, Duly arranged— duly selected — * The idea t<>r this piece was suggested by the circumstance of souse osScers' ladir> having vowed vengeance against a Ser- jeant, whom tbet iii>|H-rt«-d of the sin of rhyming; he bow- ♦ \.i inuiiii m.an-t to dr|ir«'<-atr tin- MM ■fcsenl of the enraged dmnities, by vearturiug boldJy into the uttSHi e a •** ant of them, and assuring her " that he would a* soon think of taking Wainus herself down out of the top* of the heavens as of writing any other songs than of praise* u P°n her glorious beautiful |ad\shi|>. 48 THE RHYMING MAN No subs got entrance there, I trow, No, nor their wives — oh, wow, wow, wow. The conversation soon began To turn upon the rhyming man : Frown'd the great chief, his nose grew long, He observed, " to rhyme was very wrong.*' " I never rhyme (says he) ; my mind " I never have that way inclin'd. " I have much talent — all men know it, " But none can say I ever show it." Says Antrim's warrior, " Major, why " This thing of rhyming, like not I ; * I never lik'd it — as I live, " Nor knew what pleasure it could give ! " Some take delight in't there's no doubt; " The cause I never could find out." Says Chiron, " I will tell you how:" And as he spoke, his lofty brow He gather' d in a thousand wrinkles : Says he, " it is when science twinkles " Dimly upon a feeble mind, " This idle turn you'll always find." PUT IN BODILY KEAK. VJ This said and settled, they together Went out to judge of wind and weather ; The ladies round the table drew, Their thoughts to tip-tongue glibly ri\ \\ Swift as the midnight lightning's flame, And now the general chat haomm How they should punish for his crimes. This said detested man of rhymes. Says Coila, " I know what we'll do, " Sure as my foot is in this shoe, 44 We'll get a cauldron till'd with oil, 44 And th« \il< wretch aim w»'ll hoil." \ ays Miss Sombre) Ma'am, not so ; 44 I donl love cruelty you know; " Wc will not hoil — we'll only roast him, 44 Just gi iitlv on a flesh-fork toast him." 44 What! (cries the joy of Chiron's life, 44 His sweetly softly grumbling wife), 44 What! — if we don't both roast and boil him, 44 And stew him too— call me Coll Coilum. H 50 THE RHYMING MAN " A fellow that writes rhymes indeed! " Pity for him — oh he shall bleed! " He shall be cut in quarters — dried — " Chopp'd up like mince-meat — pounded — fried." " La! (says Miss Moma, tittering pretty," " With bended neck and smirk so pretty) " I do think it would be so nice " To cut him piecemeal — slice by slice, " And fry him in a frying pan ; M 'T would be so droll — the hideous man." All the dear creatures vow'd the thought Was bright, and straight the pan was brought. But lo — their zeal had quite o'erlook'd, The criminal not yet was hook'd : Soft hearts — by disappointment pain'd, Scarcely from tears and groans refrain'd. The lovely pict now smil'd, and said With quavering voice, " By me be led; " I'll name no names — but this I'll say, " And the same thing I said to-day; PUT IN Bouii.Y n:AB. " Give Sergeant Stanza half a cob, " He'll lean upon his hand his nob: " One eye he'll open — th' other close, * And in an instant he'll compote " The sweetest, finest poetry " That ever you could wish to see, " All about goddesses and beauty, " And sighing worshippers and duty ; " And Cupid's arrows, nets and hooks, " Just like the things one reads in books. " Now my thought is, that some one spited " At not being ask'd, got him to write it; " And him I think, if we'd flog well, " Or fry — he'd who employ *d him tell." The blooming one's suspicions seem'd So like the truth, all true them deem'd. With terror arm'd, they sat in quorum, Th' unhappy wight was brought before 'em ; And soon they stretch'd him on the ground, And soon him hand and foot they bound ; H2 52 THE RHYMING MAN A blazing fire of brambles made, The frying-pan they o'er it laid : Each gentle hand brandish'd a knife, Not much for Sergeant Stanza's life You'd then have given. — He turn'd his eyes, Whites uppermost — deep bitter sighs Pour'd from the bottom of his chest, And Coila thus with words address'd : " Oh, great, magnanimous, and glorious " Majestic queen, of power victorious, " Compassionate thy suppliant slave, w From knife and frying-pan him save. " What hath he done? What is his fault; " In deed, in word, or secret thought?" " Villain (return'd Coila, with loud cry) " Villain, dare you your guilt deny? " Have you not rhym'd, and wrote things down " That make us talk'd of all thro' town?'* PUT IN BODILY FEAR. 0| 44 Oh (cried he, to Miss Sombre turning) " Goddess of wisdom, save from burning, " Thou who as wise as lovely art, 44 Hast thou not mercy in thy heart? " Bright ray of sapiency divine, 44 I never wrote a single line." Miss Sombre grave a cut for answer, And bit her lip, and bent her glancer; Drew up a double pinch of snuff, And felt if pan was hot enough. The wretch, of mercy now despairing, His eye-balU round on all sides glaring, Saw the fair pict — u|k>ii her face It's wonted smile beaui'd, mark of grace, As he poor death-doom'd devil thought, And her he weeping now besought : u Oh, ever blooming, ever beauteous, 14 Take pity on thy slave all duteous, " Thou fairest miracle of heaven, " To thee with angel form is given 54 THE RHYMING MAN " The merciful, th' angelic mind, " That heaven, thy bosom, must be kind. " A single line I never wrote " But once, upon the captain's coat ; " You gave it me one day to brush, " I chanc'd the epaulette to crush; " I penn'd an elegy upon it ; u Yes — and I once compos'd a sonnet : " If fear hath not bedoz'd my brain, " Celestial empress, hear the strain : " Venus (sang I), where is thy zone? " And where are all thy graces flown? " Where wander thy neglected loves? " What covert hides thy truant doves? " What envious cloud with darkening power " Mantles thy late joy-lighted bower?" " The goddess answered from the skies, " Look (says she) to yon lady's eyes! " Look there and learn, that I above " No longer fill the throne of love: PUT IN BODILY FEAR. o'i m Look there, and see the glory shine, " Before whose brightness vanish'd mine. " She said, she pointed — oh, how true! * She pointed, lady, straight to you." Felt somewhat moved, the gentle pict — Flattery is sweet — her lips she lick'd. " Really (says she) I think this creature w Is not of such a horrid nature ; " I rather think we've been mistaken; *' We will not cut or fry his bacon." She loos'd his cords — says she, " You're free! " Go home — your thanks are due to me." Be sure he made no long delay, But up the hill ran swift away; Where e'er he had an hour's rest, A soldier's pride recheer'd his breast ; For he remember'd Antrim's fight, When- many a hero's heels were light. (56 } TO PLIANCY. Thou smooth brow'd, soft-voic'd, gentle creature Of lovely look, of pleasing feature, Why wilt thou not thy charming nature To me impart — oh pliancy ? Thou see'st me rough, and every minute, Even unto great folk when they win it, Bestowing scorn. — Whilst thou, like linnet, Doth sooth their ears; — oh pliancy. Had I beneath thy banners listed, Who knows but I by thee assisted, Long since with suppleness had twisted To some snug birth — oh pliancy ? TO PLIAKC \ 57 I've heard the blockhead speak like thunder, H> v. ..rils Win vapid — \tt asundi-r: The heavens were rent by shouts of wonder, Thou'dst been his friend— oh pliancy. Fool-knave I've seen, with bright red sash on, Uglier than gTunter in a passion ; He orders gave, and led the fashion, 1 1 is spouse wert thou — oh pliancy. t'lJtdV In short thou art a lovely creature, Of winning look, of pleasing feature ; Why wilt thou not then, thy sweet nature To me impart— oh pUancy ? i . ■:. . >■ MB! j - ( 58 ) THE VICEROYS FESTIVAL. " Why, General, why (cries Madam Dowdy) " What's wrong ? Why don't you sup your crowdy ? " Fell you ? or have you got a fright ? " Or had you evil dreams last night? " You look quite bilious, ill, and fretted; " Your forehead's damp— Lud : — how you've sweated." The General opening wide his eyes, Sent from his generous breast three sighs; Thrice scratch' d he his sagacious head, Thrice the sublime idea fled, THE VICEROY'S FESTIVAL. fl Evaporated into smoke, For still no word the General spoke ; Three times with awful brow he frown'd, Thrice tapp'd his toes upon the ground ; Thrice rubb'd his chin, thrice strok'd his cheek, And thrice three times essay' d to speak : At length, like vapours long confin'd, These words burst from the mighty mind, While bent was every anxious ear, Wisdom and eloquence to hear : " 'Tis now (said he) the twelfth of May ; 41 'Tis time to think for the birth-day; " The fourth of June will soon be here, " And we shall have to spread good cheer " Before a crowd of hungry people, " Who would devour the church and steeple. " There's none of you will think of these things; " You, dame — you once knew how to squeeze things, " And you boy, G — , you us'd to think, " But now you can do nought but drink ; 12 60 THE VICEROY S FESTIVAL. u Nought else but guzzle morn and night. " Oh, G— ! boy G— ! this is not right ! " The baubees an't so easy gather' d, " And yet our nest's but thinly feather'd." " Why, papa, sure (says trembling G — ), " I don't drink much — indeed not I ! " Last night when those sea captains went, " Who din'd here, I an hour spent " In draining bottles, glasses, mugs, " Decanters, tumblers, cups and jugs ; " Nor ceas'd, till I had fili'd three bottles " With port and white wine to the throttles,* " These I have carefully put by, " Nor drank one drop — indeed not I." " What, sirrah, what (replied the sire " With lips of foam, and eyes of fire), — — ' — * No fiction of the muse; this laudable piece of economy 1 * is literally practised in the viceregal palace. Dare you to UmlirtgMf Eh ! " ^ on drink, you guzzle, tir, I sa\ I .n're an incorri^iMviOiy^ ,«T#iuJ ( u " You eat, you d on should be shot : M ^uu'regoodl- it. I »ui <_mi//Iiiu>\ mumbling; • I). »ii j contradict me, sir — no grumbling." More he'd have said, but wlmlK spt nt And almost ehok'd — no longer vent He for i ild find in words; Fiercely he stamn'd — the frighten'd birds, Hearing the foot tremendous (all, Flew fluttering from the convent wall: In truth no gi*at inducement there They had to stay, lor cruuihs w< re rare. Dame Dowdy strove for once to sooth Her hoarse voice down to accents smooth; And, all assiduous t<> please,^*"' tan A'd th. chief in words like " Oh, General, don't be angry, pray, 44 But let us talk alwut this day; 62 THE VICEROY'S FESTIVAL. " How we shall manage — whom invite " To dinner — whom to ball at night. " Spoons, knives, cups, saucers, we can borrow, " Plates, dishes, glasses; we to-morrow " Will ask Cordoza if he'll lend them, " No doubt he'll be quite proud to send them ; " Tables and chairs cannot be scant, " Yankeel has more than we shall want; " Yankeel's a useful little creature, " The very essence of good nature." " Send for Yankeel (the general said So calm, you'd think his wrath was fled). " John — John — (at once ten voices call From staircase, breakfast-room, and hall ) ; " John — fly — and tell Colonel Yankeel, " Foremost to put his nimblest heel : " The General wants him, tell him, John, " Don't mind your breakfast — fly — begone." John dropp'd his ration loaf, and ran And found the little chief-lov'd man I UK VIC • F.ROY S FESTIVAL | t With lather spread upon his chin. And razor ready to begin ; He laid it down — he wip'd away The soap that veil'd his charms from day ; His coat put on — his hat he took — Assum'd a sycophantic look, And off the little Barrack-master, Than any terrier ran faster ; Now he was of convenient make As any man that ever spake ; For from his neck down to his rump Was jointed or to bow or jump ; To cringe, or of an errand run, A smile to earn— or kick to shun ; With humble and with gentle tread He into the great presence sped. " General (said he, and stooped so low He might have kiss'd the General's toe), 44 Behold your Excellency's slave " Beg pardon— didn't stop to shave 04 THE VICEROY'S FESTIVAL. " Or put clean shirt oh — in the street " Soon as I heard John's sounding" feet. * " Immediate — fearful of delay, " I hasted me to come away " To hear, to learn, and to fulfil " Your Excellency's gracious will." " Why yes (replies the excellent) ; " Why yes, Yankeel, I for you sent! " I sent for you, Yankeel, 'tis true; " I wanted to consult with you " About some thing's of consequence : " Yankeel, you are a man of sense ; * This illustrious and erudite barrack-master values him- self much on his accuracy in acoustics. He once in deliver- ing his evidence before a Court Martial was able to declare upon oath that he had heard the sound of the same horses' feet : how indefatigable must he have been in philosophical researches who has' attained so astonishing a discriminating power. &'*.::«'.■ - v - I'.iui; — ;,J> .. .,; JfiM m THE VICEROYS FESTIVAL. 06 " You know how bard 'tis to get money, 14 And how it goes if one's not conny. ■ This coming birth-day gives me trouble. •* Such cheats are here — they charge me double for every thing I want — and then •« Servants are such destructive men — 14 Such dreadful villains — oh Yank eel 1 ou can't conceive how they will steal! " \ »>u're such an honest little creature, " You don't know half their evil nature: " 'Twaa only yesterday G — found " A piece of beef, that weigh'd four pound, " Under John's bed — as I'm a sinner "It would have serv'd us all for dinner. " And William — why the other day " I sent him out with cash to pay " For bottles two of claret — well, " You'll scarce believe me when I tell " The knave two empty bottles stole " And took with him — yet charg'd me whole " For wine and bottles! — G — , however, " ('Twixt you and me, that lad is clever) K 06 THE VICEROY'S FESTIVAL. " Had in his hand the bottles spied " As he went out; — the rogue denied; " But I was not to be trick'd so; " I order' d him to the provost, " And there three months — aye, every day, " On bread and water he shall stay." Here smil'd the General — and Yankeel Thought 'twas high time some mirth to feel. He smooth'd to merriment his brow, And laugh'd, nor would have stopp'd till now : But that, uplooking, he beheld The General's nose with anger swell'd. Soon chang'd his countenance, soon the tear Of trembling penitential fear Stood in his little eye ; and thence Pardon implor'd for his offence. The great Chief prompt forgiveness gave, For generous ever are the brave: Again he spake — again to hear Was bent the Barrack-master's ear. «• Yankee] (says !■< ) now what of you M I want — and what I'm sure you'll do; 44 Go you the markets thro' to-ity* H m Jht " And find what one for game must pay. " We get some presents, but so few, " They'll tor the birth-day never do: " You by the bye mi-ln semi your s..u •* To Spain to shoot — I hear his gun " Exceeding well he handles. — Eh! " I hear he kill'd five brace one da * We must bring such a crowd t 44 And then, tho' hot as now's the weather, •• They'll eat like devils — they'll be mumbling: " They must be stuflTd, or they'll be grumbling. •• Inquire how fowl and eggs are sold, 44 Lemons and oranges — I'm told " They're very cheap just now — you'll see " When you've done this, come back to me." The Barrack-master answer'd ■ But went to do his errand — hot. K'2 68 THE VICEROY'S FESTIVAL. " Proud of employment, full of glee, That day a happy man was he. He ran, as in his western part A coal had stuck and gave him smart. Now G — (the chief of warriors cries) Go you my boy — have all your eyes About on all sides — cock your ear, Collect what you can see or hear. Go thro' the markets, see what nice is, Let nothing pass; inquire the prices: Don't tell Yankeel tho' that I doubt him, You know we can't well do without him ! The creature's honest, I believe, But all men if they, can will thieve." Obedient to the sovereign word, G — rising girded on his sword, Took down his hat with tall staff feather, And went the market's news to gather. And now the Chief being left alone With the fair partner of his throne, Tint VICEROT*S WESTlVAXs. Thick gathering thoughts began to roll Like frog-spawn o'er his mighty soul, Who glorying in her strength within, Began to vapor and to spin; Now doth she in lofty flight aspire On wings of intefldcto&l fire, And wafts by turns the chief of men To battle now — to council then — Now Malaga by hosts surrounded, The warrior's great ambition boundwd; And now the statesman's mind is pleas'd. With epidemic poison sera'd, Shut out by wooden barriers strong, Or by town sa t g e auts driven along To be entomb'd in neutral sands, Or to bear death to other lands: These future glories of his reign In embryo floated o'er his brain , But now to earth brought down again, Thus spake the godlike chief of men: 70 THE VICEROY'S FESTIVAL. " Dame Dowdy ! why you seem to care " For nothing: but with vacant stare " Sit there as tho' we'd nought to think of; " What shall we give these folk to drink of? " Must negus, punch and lemonade, " And tea, and coffee, all be made? " I don't see any use in negus, " Much preparation will fatigue us ; " Besides, the wine is very dear! " Why don't you answer? Don't you hear?" " General (mild answering, spake the dame) " I've just been thinking, that for shame " We must have supper laid at night ! " Supper you know can't be too light; " It shan't cost much, you need not fear, " We won't buy any thing that's dear; " Just a few partridges— some ham, *' Some sallad, and some cold roast lamb : " My marmallade that's spoil'd by flies " Will answer well enough for pies; THE V1C1. ' UMIVAL 71 44 And then the guests, if my thought please ye, 1 in ir number we'll reduce quite easy. •• Tin fourth of June will be on Monday, ' We won't send round the cards till Sunday*. " Most officers of cash are bare; " At all events few have to spare : 3o w Ik u they're taken in a hurry, " My word fort, they'll be flurry flurry, " And many a one will stay at home " For want of proper dress to come." The General smil'd in exultation (High mark of highest approbation), " Come (says he) get your bonnet on, " And cloak, my dear, and we'll l>e gone: m We'll just for information's sake, m A turn round thro* the markets take. 1 i> — and Yankeel are there 'tis true, " But that's no matter — we'll go too; * This generous speculation was acted upon. 72 the viceroy's festival. " Seeing's more sure than being told, " We'll just find out how things are sold. " The world's so full of rogues and thieves, " There's not a man but what deceives." Well ; let them thro' the markets wander Like Mother Goose and Father Gander, Let valiant G — and learn'd Yankeel The hens in every basket feel, And try 'em too — if that content them It can't be our place to prevent them. But thou, my muse ! thou who at will Canst make time fly or stand stock still, Bring round to us the day of days, And night of nights, when in a blaze Of more than any earthly light The convent glow'd from left to right: Display to us the pomp of power And glory of the festal hour, And paint to us the great Vice-queen In all her stateliness of mien! T» VICKROY'8 FT8TIYAX. 79 Don't her greet satin gown forget, Or dazzling cap of silver net. Bright suns of beauty, great and small, Beam'd — but the dame transcended all ! The dame — oh thunder! — turf! — and fire! Will not some god my song inspire? Won't thou, Apollo? Pan, won't thou, For once place laurels on jny brow? Ye nine sweet-piping sisters, come Sound in my ears your sacred hum, And pour upon my soul your flame, That I may celebrate the dame : That I may tell how straight she steod, Like the tall |toplar in the wood, Or how she sfcoae like moon of nii^lif. While lesser orbs of fainter light Roll'd trembling round, abash'd, afraid. Or shrank, retiring into shade ; So stood — so shone the Viceroy'* n Yankeel was near her, large as We, With brow so calm, with hand so steady, Tea to present — and ever ready 74 the viceroy's festival. Was he with handkerchief to dust Her chair — and smoothly to adjust The carpet for her grandeur's toes, And higher than her grandeur's nose Yankeel his little eyes ne'er lifted: For he, Yankeel, was fairy gifted; And from his cradle had attain'd The knowledge how the great were gain'd. His wife was there — his daughters too, In virgin whiteness, spic span new, As fine as ever hands could make 'em; What! and will no kind youths then take 'em? I do believe men's hearts are flint ; They won't make love to girls that squint And look like monkeys: well, what then? Who the deuce cares for nasty men? The little goddesses threw round A scornful glance or two, and froWn'd. But lo ! the ladies fast came in, And some so fat and some so thin, Ambling so graceful — soft as silk, Their eyes like stars — their cheeks like milk, lot's festival. 7.1 Save here and there — where a light gleam Of roseate lustre ting'd the cream. 6 — was polite, and smil'd and bow'd To each sweet angel in the crowd; And each sweet angel sweetly smil'd Upon the General's pretty child. Tin I114I1 nCSJQSgol ilsuiic li.nl chut For all — so affable — so pat: " Ma'am, don't you find it hotter here " Than England, at this time of year? " Cooler thau this in winter tho\ " But we have never any sn " Pray have yon thro 1 the galleries been?/ " St. Michael's cave have you yet seen? " The stones that putrefied * are there, " Are very curoux, I declare.'* 'i ■ " 1 * The petrtjud tiona «>t >t Mirhnel'aCave afford an in- exhaustible fund to many a sweetly flowing gentle tongue, but ber vice-majesty bat, with her wonted elegance, beauti- fully improved upon the term, literally and truly cbangiog the e to u. L2 76 THE VICEROY'S FESTIVAL. But swallow'd now is the last cup Of tea. — Enlivening sounds strike up — The hungry band boys loudly blow, And itches every lovely toe. And warlike knights, and gentle squires, Thrill with ineffable desires : The fair and brave in many a glance Their souls commingle While they dance, And off the lemonade they toss'd, As careless as tho' fvee of cost : Lemons and sugar could be found Upon the walls, or on the ground. They ceas'd not, till the oft sung hour When wicked warlocks lose their power. Yet after all, they forward rush'd When supper was announc'd, and crush'd Past one another to the table; But here, my muse no longer able To gaze upon viceregal light, Descends from Pegasonian flight. She only hopes, no craving bellies Were there to long for tarts and jellies. ( 77 ) ANOMALOUS. How sacred the peace which the injured man knows When an honest intention abides in his bosom ; For him with what brilliancy life's landscape glows, In his path with what u r e e tn ati springs Hope's lovely blossom. Let the low minded despot boast on for a while, In the arrogant thought that he wholly subdues him; But oh, could his worthlessness see wjth what smile, With what scorn — with what pity — the injur'd man views him. 78 ANOMALOUS. Not so much the poor, tott'ring, imbecile machine, As the spring which hath rais'd it to dignified station, Doth the injur' d man long to hold forth to be seen, To be publicly seen by a just judging nation. The injur' d man feels that a Briton in vain Never cries to his country " a tyrant oppresses !" He feels e'er he yet lifts his voice to complain — Yes — he feels in his heart — England amply re- dresses. ( 79 ) TO A MALIGNANT OLD WOMAN ( On i i'mi'tihm: (l.tard, how boisterously roll On thy bile-colour d phiz, the black wave* of thy soul! Lapsus linguae * — beg pardon — thy soul did I say? In thee dwells there a soul — thou poor poison- fraught clay? No— to thy wit Ik i <1 frame, no inch guest ever came: • Old ladies not being always book-Urn d, ber escrllcnt ladyship is hereby informed, that we $ckoiUrds, by laps** lintpue, mean a slip of the tongue. 80 TO A MAMGNATflT OLD WOMAN. Chilly av'rice crept trembling with frost-bitten paw, And o'er thy doz'd brain crawl'd, and grasp'd thy pinch'd maw. Malice folio w'd and fix'd in thy heart her abode; Pride next foaming, and scowling, presumptu- ously strode, 4 Bellowing fiercely, " What say you? — call me an old fool ? " Entrusted see ye me not with absolute rule ? " Low let every knee bend, or by crowdy and kail * Lash'd shall every back be, loud shall every tongue wail." \s iwi ( al ) TO THE SAME. An now auld lassie, fare thee bien It gars me greet — a right guide pen I've spoilt, an my bonny ink Amaist twa tents ha* waste upo' thee. My ink that flows sae sweet as honey, lis like I canna buy for money; My horn was fu' wi't to the brink, Keek how 't hath sank— dost thou not rue thee? Ay thou wilt rue— thou' It stamp an starm, Thy chilTd auld bluid, my sang will warm; Gang hame, gang hame, an gruel drink, An wark the bile weel thro* an thro' thee. M 82 TO THE SAME. There is nae ane, O' a-thy clan, Wha dares genst me tak pen in han, Put loof neath lug — niak' wordies clink, Thysel gin aught thy brain can brew thee. i ( W ) TO MISS MOLLY, THE OLD WOMAN S DARLING BABA. Gentle minion, up on pinion, Up on little milk-white wing. Young- and sweet one, pray don't beat one : Call papa from garden * deary, Ah why won't you? — never feary, Mild he'll be with you ; that teary Pretty creature, from soft feature Brush away, and chirp and sing, Excellent you know, papa if, Lovely, all-polite mama is, Lovelier still the dear baba is. * ■ Ob, papa's in the garden. Sir. Papa never allows his- " aelf to be disturbed when be s in tbe gardes, Sii. m M2 ( 84 ) REMORRAR; A TALE. Rough roar'd along the mountain stream, The tempest fiercely blew, Nor moon nor star, one glimm'ring beam On the black midnight threw. Sudden the lightning's glare reveai'd Brave Connel Seaithneagh's tomb, The echoing thunder loudly peal'd, And all again was gloom. " Hail, (wild and hoarse Remtfrrar cried) " All hail, auspicious hour, m Well suits thy darkling veil to hide " The dagger's' point and poWer. REMORRAR; A TALE. 85 •• Connel, my brother, thou wert brave, M Thou'rt cold, and still, and low ; ■ Thou'rt unreveng'd — dark is thy grave, " Yet lives — yet boasts thy foe. ** Was Caithnar's arm in battle strong? " Oh no — the sorcerer's spell " Aided the wicked in his wrong, " The good, the valiant fell. ** Not now can spells have power to save, •« The vengeful blade is bar'd ; M The lonely trembler of the cave " Hath guilt's dark doom deciar'd. 44 Ha !— -dost thou come ? Remorrar's arm " Not yet shall strike the blow ; ** First be thou palsied — seek the charm * Now virtueless and low : n 86 REMORRAR; A TALE. So saying- — to the forest's shade, The thick, th' impervious gloom Ent'ring, he hid the glittVing blade, And sank behind the tomb. Caithnar approach'd, whose frowning brow Was night's unbeam'd on wood; Whose iron neck no strength could bow, Whose soul rejoic'd in blood. His trembling people round him bore A hundred torches bright, And him, their chief, they dreaded more Than ghastliness of night. The dead deep-groaning- from the grave, The fire-fiend's blazing path, Could Caithnar's people dauntless brave, But not their chieftain's wrath. REMORRAR; A TALE. 87 44 Retire (he said) and hence return " W hen i«kv taPO hours have sped; 44 Thou Mormrol stay— one torch shall hum " To ligt us to the dead." Full fourscore years had Momrol seen, And fourscore thousand woes, And dark o'er Mormrol's pallid mien His spirit's sadness rose. " Mormrol, oh chief, (he slowly said), " Remains to thy command ; M But hid not Mormrol lift the dead, " For age it on his band." 44 Mormrol, thy days (replied the chief), " Have many been below, " Dost thou not for the bosom's grief " Some balmy med'eine know ? 88 REMORRAR; A TALE. " The spell which giveth strength and power, " Which edgeth Caithnar's sword, " "Will from the tomb at this dread hour " Flow to the magic word." " But from what heav'n can beam one smile " To sooth the pangs that burn " Eternal in the heart which guile " And darkness doth inurn P«w " Caithnar was young — within his breast « Joy's ardency did glow, " The hills look'd lovely in their rest, " The vales were fair below. * Gelchossa was the sweetest maid " That e'er a warrior lov'd; " She with Remorrar in the shade " Of JErthra's valley rov'd. KKMORRAR; A TALE. " Six h< -anl Reinorrur'*. harp and son«r, • And Caithnar woo'd in vain : " Remorrar's Arm and soul were strong-, " Caithnar conceal'd his pain. " Before the grey-hair'd king he stood, " Remorrar's aged aire; " He feign'd that all his rising blood, " The flame of war did tire." " Oh, Colth (he said) behold our friends " Of Innismore are dm m u To last extremes — tin ir ( hieftain sends • For aid— will it be giv'n? " If so, let Caithnar strike the shield \ " Let him for once have fame 1 " Let not for ever o'er the field " Be borne Remorrar's name." N 90 REMORRAR; A TALE. " So Caithnar spake — nor felt a fear, " His rash suit would prevail; " Well knew he, that the old man's ear " Heard aye Remorrar's tale. " Kemorrar sought the distant war, " As wont, with haughty tone, " His steps of strength were borne afar, " Gelchossa wept alone. *' She wept in Erthra's silent wood, " Deep loneliness was there ; " Caithnar before her trembling stood, " And offered soothance fair. " She from him turn'd — he fiercer grew- " He revell'd in her charms — " He then the deathful dagger drew ; " He flung her from his arms! REMOnilAR; A TALE. !>l *' He itabh'd li« r — and no eye the deed " Beheld ; — but at this hour " Anew the lovely form doth bleed, " Doth wake remorse's power. " Caithnar's black guilt no mortal knew; " An outward smile he wore: " On leaden wings his dark hours flew, " And each new tortures bore. " The king in anguish view'd the dead ; " Her aged grandsire came, ** An infant l><»\ he fondh led, '• Who lisp'd Gelchossas name:" u O King! (the old man faltrin^ spake) " Behold Remorrar's j«»\ ' " Preserve, for brave Remorrar's sake, M His and Gelchossas bo\ ! m% 92 remorrar; a tale. " Protection's hand he soon will need, " This old heart torn with woe, u Soon heal'd by death, will cease to bleed, " Grey hairs must soon lie low. " With the dear child this message take, " This message for the brave, " That poor old Nerthrul did not speak " Till he was near the grave. " To Nerthrul only was reveal'd -" The secret nuptial hour; " And Nerthrul' s lips by oaths were seal'd, " But grief hath burst their power." " He said — the old men mingled tears; " Remorrar's boy they priz'd : " CaithnaYs heart curs' d their doating years, " And their weak plaints despis'd. REMORRAR; A TILE. 91 41 That night in lutterneas of toul •• II s.»u«r|,t dark Krthra's wood: •' HeavVs blackest clouds above did roll, " Their gloom seem'd ting'd with blood. •• Sudden — tweet mono— -gentle — low! — " Was lK>rne upon the breeze; 41 And 1 1 <.d it like ev'ning'a mildest glow, 44 Shone thro' the shadowy trees. 44 A form of loveliness was 44 By Caithnar's wond'ring eyes, 44 Far above man the godlike mien In stately worth did rise. " A crown grae'd his " His robe wide trembling flew, " 'Twas name, and his bright wing! shed u O'er it a roseate ha* 94 REMORRAR; A TALE. " Round him a flood of liquid gold, " Sparkling with prismal rays, " In rich resplending glory roll'd, " A varying, brightning blaze. " His brow was calm, his eye was clear, " But seem'd suffus'd with woe; u While thus on Caithnar's charm-held ear " His words did soothly flow : " '* Why mourn'st thou? Doth thy soul repent " That which thine arm hath done ? " Let not the warrior's fire be spent " Till all is lost or won. " Feel'st thou ambition ? to the throne u Of Colth then why not rise? « The man is old, 'twill ne'er be known " If poison seal his eyes. KEXORKVR; A TALK. y.'» I i mi I, whilst tliou art brave; Mortal* tliy power shall fear; u 8en«J " Denouncing everlasting doom i — Hear this ye dwellers of the tomb! •• Ev'n tho' hell's pan^s b< ^in to bum, " Caithnar disdains to shrink or turn. " Ye hell-fraught, ghastly forms of air, Hear ye what Caithnar* s soul doth swear! " Thou spirit who dost the tempest roll, " Thou who dost love the lofty soul, " Great spirit unsul>dued and free, 44 Thine Caithnar will for ever be." He ceas'd ; and from the rended tombs The dead their grisly forms, TunnM on the midnight's tluek'iiing glooms And shrn k\l upon tin- storms. A thousand lightnings blaz'd around. A thousand thunders swell'd; Ten thousand thousand demons crown* d With heav'nly vengeance yell'd. 02 160 REMOUfcAft; A tfAL&. Not from the lowest depths of hell, Could mortal eye pierce there, More horrours would there be to tell, More blackness of despair* Than on that night tremendous potir'd Hell's everlasting woes : Hell's fires unquenchable down shoWer'd, Hell's bitterest pangs arose. Bold is the spirit of the song, And venturous her flight; Her wings as heav'n's own flame are strong They trembled that dread night. But more, when thund'ririg on the air This dreadful voice did fall-*" " Dastardly murd'rer, dost thou dare "On hell for aid to call? RUMOUR VR: A TALK. 101 ■ Didst thou not cv'n within this hour Complain thou I. It tli< yok< " Didst thou not wish that by some power " Thy fetters might be broke? " Soon will thy recreant blood be spilt, " Thy soul shall feel hell's thorns; " Heav'n hath turf pow'r to heal thy guilt, " And hell the coward scorn ^ The lightnintr* flash'd, the thunders crash'd, The darkiii-ss darker grew; O'er night's black path, the 6end of wrath On flames horrific flew. He loudly hmjrh'd, he fiercely qiinfTd The howling of despair. The softtftis of woe, that round did flow. On the tormented air. 102 REMORRAR; A TALE. All now was silent — all was gloom : Slow did the chill graves close. Remorrar from behind the tomb, To take his vengeance rose. Before the hell-deserted chief He bar'd the glitt'ring blade. " Ha! (cried the guilty) Form of grief, " Art thou Remorrar's shade ?" " For deeds, not words, thou soul of guilt, " I come!" Remorrar cried, And plung'd his dagger to the hilt, The black blood blacker dyed That night's drear horrours — one deep groan, Awful to list'ning hell; And all her fiends, the news made known, When guilty Caithnar fell. — iorrar; a tale. Hi Stern by the tomb Remorrar stood, Till morning ting'd the sky; Silent be gaz'd on Erthra's wood; No joy was in his eye. •' Once, thou fair light of Heav'n (he said) " Thou cuiildst make hope return; " Dark thou seem'st now — thou canst not shed " A beam to pierce the urn. Thou canst not wake that hour of joy, u When glorying in his fame, (irlchosflt t;ni«_rlit her smiling bo\ " To lisp Remorrar's name." •• Lov*d son of Erin's rev'rene'd king (Then did old Mormrol say) " Thy boy these aged arms did bring 41 From Caithnar's wrath away. 104 BEMOJIRAR; A TALE. " Another child the wicked slew, " Believing it was thine ! " Far from the court thy brave boy grew, " Nor knows his royal line. " Thou'lt find tliat he hath truth and grace " Won from the Heav'n above ; " Thou'lt find him worthy of his race, " And of a father's love." ( 105 ) THE OLD MAN Old man, dost thou see morning's beam wav'r- ing lightly, Awak'ning the valley, illum'ning the hill? " The fair beam I see, and in sooth it falls brightly ; " Time was when this bosom with rapture *twould till ; 106 THE OLD» MAN. " But now mine eyes see the hills purpled with glory, " Mine ears hear glad sounds, and my pulses beat slow, " For chill'd is the heart, to which memory no story " Can bring save what's wrap* iv the blackness of woe." And canst thou not, old man, retrace with some pleasure The days when thy heart djdi respond to the song; When every nerve tiembfed ta mirth's lively measure, And youth's active limbs bore thee lightly along? THCE OLD Man 107 •• Oh whrrr i> tlu jo\ aire can find in recalling ** The gambols of childhood, the illusions of youtli; " The wild schemes of manhood. — now rising— now falling — " Now bursting like bubbles, when blown on by truth?" And comes then, old man, all unmingled the sorrow? Hath evening no sunshine — no mild warm- ing gleam? Can old age no brightness, no kindly glow borrow, WHBN HOPE LIFTS THE CLOUD FftOM eternity's beam ? p* ( 108 ) 'TIS ONLY A SOLDIEK THAT'S DEAD. All is silent and dark — on the night's heavy air, Lo! what sound thus is borne, like the sigh of despair ; Like the groan of a heart from which all hope hath fled? Oh! 'tis nothing — 'tis only a soldier that's dead. That lament was his widow's; far, far, from her home, In the cold drear of night doth she comfortless roam, And around her, her children are crying for bread; But no matter — 'tis only a soldier that's dead. 'Til ONLY A SOLDIER THAT'S DEAD. 100 Painful mem'ry collects all the woes they have known, All the black-rolling sorrows that o'er them have flown; On no hour of their loves had one bright beam been shed, Bui what matter? — 'tis only a soldier that's dead! u Peace, oh peace! thou dear baby — ob hush tine to ft >t ; " Thy poor father is low — there's no milk in tl»i> '■ Ah! the groan of that widow, to heav'n may have ■ped; But no matter — 'tis only a soldier that's dead. ( 110 ) ONCE WE WERE. When Erin's banners were unfurl'd, Beneath them when her brave sons bled, And round her brows maternal twin'd The wreaths their valour won. When Erin o'er a dark'ned world The lovely light of science shed, The glories of th' illumin'd mind, The intellectual sun : Sweet themes her harp had then to sing, And heaven's own fire touch'd ev'ry string. But now ! oh now ! how can we raise, Or songs of joy, or songs of praise? ONCE WE WERE. Ill Cold, heartless cowards, servile tools, Prudent to learn each tyrant's rules; Abject to cringe, to bow, to kneel, Whose frozen bosoms ne'er could feel The gen'rous throb, the ardent flame Which once rais'd Erin's sons to fame. Such dare to mock the glowing mind, The lofty thought, the sense refin'd; Such dare to taunt us when we tell, How great we were, how far we fell ; Such from our hearts would seek to tear Our only boast — that once we were. IIII. END. J. a. hrurt, Matrr. *kina«r lUMt , lit ■ lb', ERRATA. Page 36, last line, for blessfulness, read " blissfulncss." 50, 6th line, for pretty, read " witty." 87, 4th line, for ligt, read "light." */"* &= & ^^s £l^Sv§ sua— I dn?^.V. TH I R A N REG, °NAL LIBRARY FACILITY 405 Hilgard Avenue, Los Angeles, CA 90024-1388 Return this material to the library from which it was borrowed. 1 so r JJIiJItViJl"'' ^fli/NINUi^ 'i/A«vaaiii^' i/Aavaaii-i^' sMBMiwk, ^mmos ^h«% #™£ )1 )§ MttUtRMVHCUTY i 5 g 3 AA 000079176 4 r J7U3W-sn* v 1158 01074 44 ^AHVWI>T^ ^AWWIH^ '0*\ ^HJBRABYo^ IS L ^ ^ ,-^p i $. & * NWl'NIVfB^ =: = %\m SOl^ ^/X83AIM J^ % N tf IIBRARY^ ^41B8ARYa^ 5 1 ir" « 85 I 3 ^ "frflMAlMJVfc* ^WMilV}-J0^ ^90JflYDJ0 : ^OfCAllFOft^ ^OTCAUfO^ 1^ "%UAINilJY\* -#AHYMH* S -tfABVWn^ COc. ^UIBRARYOr- .\^ l!WN1R % ^lOSAHCfl£c> .^