IV.

We have week after week candidly told these things to the People, and, instead of quarrelling with us, or running off to men who said "the Irish have succeeded in everything," they hearkened to us, and raised our paper into a circulation beyond most of the leaders of the London press, and immensely beyond any other journal that ever was in Ireland. What is more cheering still, they have set about curing their defects. They are founding Repeal Reading-rooms. They have noted down their ignorance in many portions of agriculture, manufactures, commerce, history, literature, and fine arts; and they are working with the Agricultural Societies, forming Polytechnic Institutions for the improvement of manufactures, and giving and demanding support to the antiquarian and historical and artistical books and institutions in Ireland. Largeclasseswished well to, and small ones supported each of these projects before; but in this journalallclasses were canvassed incessantly, and not in vain—and if there be unanimity now, we claim some credit for ourselves, but much more for the People, who did not resent harsh truth, and took advice that affronted their vanity.

A political impatience and intolerance have too often been seen in this country. It is one of the vices of slaves to use free speech to insult all who do not praise their faults and their friends and their caprices. We rejoice, in looking over our files, to see how rarely we were personal and how generally we recognised the virtues of political foes. It is an equal pleasure to recall that in many questions, but especially in reference to the Liberal Members not in the Association, we stood between an impolitic fury and its destined victims. The People bore with us, and then agreed with us. We told them that men able and virtuous—men who had gone into Parliament when Repeal was a Whig buggaboo to frighten the Tories, were not to be hallooed from their seats because Repeal had suddenly grown into a national demand. These men, we said, may become your allies, if you do not put them upon their mettle by your rudeness and impatience. If they join you, they will be faster and more useful friends than men who compensate for every defect by pledge-bolting at command.

Mr. O'Connell, who had at first seemed to incline to the opposite opinion, concurred with us. Mr. O'Brien was zealous on the same side; the "premature pledges" were postponed to their fit time—an election—and the people induced to apply themselves to the Registries, as the true means of getting Repeal members.

We have maintained and advanced our foreign policy—the recognition and study of other countries beside England, and a careful separation of ourselves from England's crimes. We have, we believe, not neglected those literary, antiquarian, and historical teachings, and those popular projects which we pointed to last year as part of our labours; and we are told that the poetry ofThe Nationhas not been worse than in our first year. But these things are more personal, less indicative of national progress, and therefore less interesting than our success in producing political tolerance, increased efforts for education, and that final concession to religious liberty—the right to change without even verbal persecution.

The last year has been a year of hard work and hard trial to the country and to us. Our first year was spent in rousing and animating—the second in maintaining, guiding, and restraining. Its motto is, "Bide your time." Never had a People more temptation to be rash; and it is our proudest feeling that in our way we aided the infinitely greater powers of O'Connell till his imprisonment, and of O'Brien thereafter, to keep in the passion, while they kept up the spirit of the People.

They and we succeeded.

The People saw the darling of their hearts dragged to trial, yet they never rioted; they found month after month go by in the disgusting details of a trial at bar, yet, instead of desponding, they improved their organisation, studied their history and statistics—increased in dignity, modesty, and strength. At length came the imprisonment; we almost doubted them, but they behaved gloriously—they recognised their wrongs, but they crossed their arms—they were neither terrified, disordered, nor divided—they promptly obeyed their new leaders, and, with shut teeth, swore that their "only vengeance should be victory." They succeeded—bore their triumph as well as their defeat, and are now taking breath for a fresh effort at education, organisation, and conciliation.

It is something to have laboured through a Second Year for such a People. Let them go on as they have begun—growing more thoughtful, more temperate, more educated, more resolute—let them complete their parish organisation, carry out their registries, and, above all, establish those Reading-rooms which will inform and strengthen them into liberty; and, ere many years' work, the Green Flag will be saluted by Europe, and Ireland will be a Nation. The People have shown that their spirit, their discipline, and their modesty can be relied on; they have but to exhibit that greatest virtue which their enemies deny them—perseverence—and all will be well.

ORANGE AND GREEN.

Here it is at last—the dawning. Here, in the very sanctuary of the Orange heart, is a visible angel of Nationality:—

"If a British Union cannot be formed, perhaps an Irish one might. What could Repeal take from Irish Protestants that they are not gradually losing 'in due course'?"However improbable, it is not impossible, that better terms might be made with the Repealers than the Government seem disposed to give. A hundred thousand Orangemen, with their colours flying, might yet meet a hundred thousand Repealers on the banks of the Boyne; and, on a field presenting so many solemn reminiscences to all, sign the Magna Charta of Ireland's independence. The Repeal banner might then be Orange and Green, flying from the Giant's Causeway to the Cove of Cork, and proudly look down from the walls of Derry upon a new-born nation."Such a union, not to be accomplished without concession on all sides, would remove the great offence of Irish Protestants—their Saxon attachment to their British fatherland. Cast off, as they would feel themselves by Great Britain, and baptised on the banks of the Boyne into the great Irish family, they would be received into a brotherhood which, going forward towards the attainment of a national object, would extinguish the spirit of Ribbonism, and establish in its place a covenant of peace."

"If a British Union cannot be formed, perhaps an Irish one might. What could Repeal take from Irish Protestants that they are not gradually losing 'in due course'?

"However improbable, it is not impossible, that better terms might be made with the Repealers than the Government seem disposed to give. A hundred thousand Orangemen, with their colours flying, might yet meet a hundred thousand Repealers on the banks of the Boyne; and, on a field presenting so many solemn reminiscences to all, sign the Magna Charta of Ireland's independence. The Repeal banner might then be Orange and Green, flying from the Giant's Causeway to the Cove of Cork, and proudly look down from the walls of Derry upon a new-born nation.

"Such a union, not to be accomplished without concession on all sides, would remove the great offence of Irish Protestants—their Saxon attachment to their British fatherland. Cast off, as they would feel themselves by Great Britain, and baptised on the banks of the Boyne into the great Irish family, they would be received into a brotherhood which, going forward towards the attainment of a national object, would extinguish the spirit of Ribbonism, and establish in its place a covenant of peace."

So speaks theEvening Mail, the trumpet of the northern confederates, and we cry amen! amen!

We exult, till the beat of our heart stays our breathing, at the vision of such a concourse. Never—never, when the plains of Attica saw the rivals of Greece marching to expel the Persian, who had tried to intrigue with each for the ruin of both—never, when, from the uplands of Helvetia, rolled together the victors of Sempach—never, when, at the cry of Fatherland, the hundred nations of Germany rose up, and swept on emancipating to the Rhine—never was there under the sky a godlier or more glorious sight than that would be—to all slaves, balsam; to all freemen, strength; to all time, a miracle!

If Ireland's wrongs were borne for this—if our feuds and our weary sapping woes were destined to this ending, then blessed be the griefs of the past! His sickness to the healed—his pining to the happy lover—his danger to the rescued, are faint images of such a birth from such a chaos.

It is something—the cheer of an invisible friend—to have, even for a moment, heard the hope. It must abide in the souls of the Irish, guaranteeing the moderation of the Catholic—wakening the aspirations of the Orangemen. There it is—a cross on the sky.

It may not now lead to anything real. Long-suffering, oft-baffled Ireland will not abandon for an inch or hour its selected path by reason of this message.

We hope from it, because it has been prompted by causes which will daily increase. Incessantly will the British Minister labour to gain the support of seven millions of freed men, by cutting away every privilege and strength from one million of discarded allies.

We hope from it, because, as the Orangemen become more enlightened, they will more and more value the love of their countrymen, be prouder of their country, and more conscious that their ambition, interest, and even security are identical with nationality.

We hope from it, because, as the education of People and the elevation of the rich progress, they will better understand the apprehensions of the Orangemen, allow for them in a more liberal spirit, and be able to give more genuine security to even the nervousness of their new friends.

We hope most from it, because of its intrinsic greatness. It is the best promise yet seen to have the Orangemen proposing, even as a chance, the conference of 100,000 armed and ordered yeomen from the North, with 100,000 picked (ay, by our faith! and martial) Southerns on the banks of the Boyne, to witness a treaty of mutual concession, oblivion, and eternal amity; and then to lift an Orange-Green Flag of Nationhood, and defy the world to pull it down.

Yet 'tis a distant hope, and Ireland, we repeat, must not swerve for its flashing. When the Orangemen treat the shamrock with as ready a welcome as Wexford gave the lily—when the Green is set as consort of the Orange in the lodges of the North—when the Fermanagh meeting declares that the Orangemen are Irishmen pledged to Ireland, and summons another Dungannon Convention to prepare the terms of our treaty; then, and not till then, shall we treat this gorgeous hope as a reality, and then, and not till then, shall we summon the Repealers to quit their present sure course, and trust their fortunes to the League of the Boyne.

Meantime, we commend to the hearts and pride of "the Enniskilleners" this, their fathers', declaration in 1782:—

"COUNTY FERMANAGH GRAND JURY."We, the Grand Jury of the county of Fermanagh, being constitutionally assembled at the present assizes, held for the county of Fermanagh, at Enniskillen, this 18th day of March, 1782, think ourselves called upon at this interesting moment to make our solemn declarations relative to the rights and liberties of Ireland."Wepledge ourselvesto this our country, that we will never pay obedience to any law made, or to be made, to bind Ireland, except those laws which are and shall be made by the King, Lords, and Commons of Ireland."Signed by order,"Arthur Cole Hamilton, Foreman."

"COUNTY FERMANAGH GRAND JURY.

"We, the Grand Jury of the county of Fermanagh, being constitutionally assembled at the present assizes, held for the county of Fermanagh, at Enniskillen, this 18th day of March, 1782, think ourselves called upon at this interesting moment to make our solemn declarations relative to the rights and liberties of Ireland.

"Wepledge ourselvesto this our country, that we will never pay obedience to any law made, or to be made, to bind Ireland, except those laws which are and shall be made by the King, Lords, and Commons of Ireland.

"Signed by order,

"Arthur Cole Hamilton, Foreman."

ACADEMICAL EDUCATION.[51]

The rough outlines of a plan of Academical Education for Ireland are now before the country. The plan, as appears from Sir James Graham's very conciliatory speech, is to be found three Colleges; to give them £100,000 for buildings, and £6,000 a year for expenses; to open them to all creeds; the education to be purely secular; the students not to live within the Colleges; and the professors to be named and removed, now and hereafter, by Government.

The announcement of this plan was received in the Commons with extravagant praise by the Irish Whig and Repeal members, nor was any hostility displayed except by the blockhead and bigot, Sir Robert Inglis—a preposterous fanatic, who demands the repeal of the Emancipation Act, and was never yet missed from the holy orgies of Exeter Hall. Out of doors it has had a darker reception; but now that the first storm of joy and anger is over, it is time for the people of Ireland to think of this measure.

It is for them to consider it—it is for them to decide on it—it is for them to profit by it. For centuries the Irish were paupers and serfs, because they were ignorant and divided. The Protestant hated the Catholic, and oppressed him—the Catholic hated the Protestant, and would not trust him. England fed the bigotry of both, and flourished on the ignorance of both. The ignorance was a barrier between our sects—left our merchant's till, our farmer's purse, and our state treasury empty—stupefied our councils in peace, and slackened our arm in war. Whatsoever plan will strengthen the soul of Ireland with knowledge, and knit the sects of Ireland in liberal and trusting friendship, will be better for us than if corn and wine were scattered from every cloud.

While 400,000 of the poor find instruction in the National Schools, the means of education for the middle and upper classes are as bad now as they were ten or fifty years ago. A farmer or a shopkeeper in Ireland cannot, by any sacrifice, win for his son such an education as would be proffered to him in Germany. How can he afford to pay the expense of his son's living in the capital, in addition to Collegiate fees; and, if he could, why should he send his son where, unless he be an Episcopalian Protestant, those Collegiate offices which, though they could be held but by a few score, would influence hundreds, are denied him. Even to the gentry the distance and expense are oppressive; and to the Catholics and Presbyterians of them the monopoly is intolerable.

To bring Academical Education within the reach and means of the middle classes, to free it from the disease of ascendency, and to make it a means of union as well as of instruction, should be the objects of him who legislates on this subject; and we implore the gentry and middle classes, whom it concerns, to examine this plan calmly and closely, and to act on their convictions like firm and sensible men. If such a measure cannot be discussed in a reasonable and decent way, our progress to self-government is a progress to giddy convulsions and shameful ruin.

Let us look into the details of the plan.

It grants £100,000 and £18,000 a year for the foundation of three Provincial Colleges. The Colleges proposed are for the present numerous enough. It will be hard to get competent Professors for even these. Elementary Education has made great way; but the very ignorance for which these Institutions are meant as a remedy makes the class of Irishmen fit to fill Professors' chairs small indeed; and, small as it is, it yearly loses its best men by emigration to London, where they find rewards, fame, and excitement. The dismissal, hereafter, of incompetent men would be a painful, but—if pedants, dunces, and cheats were crammed into the chairs—an unavoidable task. A gradual increase of such Colleges will better suit the progress of Irish intelligence than a sudden and final endowment. But though the Colleges are enough, and the annual allowance sufficient, the building fund is inadequate—at least double the sum would be needed; but this brings us to another part of the plan—the residence of the students outside the College.

To the extern residence we are decidedly opposed. It works well in Germany, where the whole grown population are educated; but in Ireland, where the adult population are unhappily otherwise, 'tis a matter of consequence to keep the students together, to foster an academic spirit and character, and to preserve them from the stupefying influences of common society. However, this point is but secondary, so we pass from it, and come to the two great principles of the Bill.

They are—Mixed Education and Government Nomination; and we are as resolute for the first as we are against the second.

The objections to separate Education are immense; the reasons for it are reasons for separate life, for mutual animosity, for penal laws, for religious wars. 'Tis said that communication between students of different creeds will taint their faith and endanger their souls. They who say so should prohibit the students from associatingoutof the Colleges even more thaninthem. In the Colleges they will be joined in studying mathematics, natural philosophy, engineering, chemistry, the principles of reasoning, the constitution of man. Surely union in these studies would less peril their faith than free communication out of doors. Come, come, let those who insist on unqualified separate Education follow out their principles—let them prohibit Catholic and Protestant boys from playing, or talking, or walking together—let them mark out every frank or indiscreet man for a similar prohibition—let them establish a theological police—let them rail off each sect (as the Jews used to be cooped) into a separate quarter; or rather, to save preliminaries, let each of them proclaim war in the name of his creed on the men of all other creeds, and fight till death, triumph, or disgust shall leave him leisure to revise his principles.

These are the logical consequences of the doctrine of Separate Education, but we acquit the friends of it of that or any other such ferocious purpose. Their intentions are pious and sincere—their argument is dangerous, for they might find followers with less virtue and more dogged consistency.

We say "anunqualifiedseparate Education," because it is said, with some plausibility, that the manner in which theology mixes up with history and moral philosophy renders common instruction in them almost impossible. The reasoning is pushed too far. Yet the objection should be well weighed; though we warn those who push it very far not to fall into the extravagance of a valued friend of ours, who protested against one person attempting to teach medicine to Catholics and Protestants, as one creed acknowledged miraculous cures and demoniacal possessions, and the other rejected both!

It should be noted, too, that this demand for separateProfessorsdoes not involve separate Colleges, does not assume that any evil would result from the friendship of the students, and does not lead to the desperate, though unforeseen, conclusions which follow from the other notion.

'Tis also a different thing to propose the establishment of Deans in each College to inspect the religious discipline and moral conduct of the students—a Catholic Dean, appointed by the Catholic Church, watching over the Catholic students; and so of the Episcopalians and Presbyterians. Such Deans, and Halls for religious teaching, will be absolutely necessary, should a residence in the Colleges be required; but should a system of residence in registered lodgings and boarding-houses be preferred, similar duties to the Deans might be performed by persons nominated by the Catholic, Protestant, and Presbyterian Churches respectively, without the direct interposition of the College; for each parent would take care to put his child under the control of his own Church. An adequate provision in some sufficient manner for religious discipline is essential, and to be dispensed with on no pretence.

These, however, are details of great consequence to be discussed in the Commons' Committee; but we repeat our claim for mixed education, because it has worked well among the students of Trinity College, and would work better were its offices free, because it is the principle approved by Ireland when she demanded the opening of those offices, and when she accepted the National Schools—because it is the principle of the Cork, the Limerick, and the Derry meetings; but above all, because it is consistent with piety, and favourable to that union of Irishmen of different sects, for want of which Ireland is in rags and chains.

Against the nomination of Professors by Government we protest altogether. We speak alike of Whig or Tory. The nomination would belooked onas a political bribe, the removal as a political punishment. Nay, the nominationwouldbe political. Under great public excitement a just nomination might be made, but in quiet times it would be given to the best mathematician or naturalist who attended the levee and wrote against the opposition. And it would be an enormous power; for it would not merely control the immediate candidates, but hundreds, who thought they might some ten years after be solicitors for professorships, would shrink from committing themselves to uncourtly politics, or qualify by Ministerial partisanship, not philosophical study, for that distant day. A better engine for corrupting that great literary class which is the best hope of Ireland could not be devised; and if it be retained in the Bill, that Bill must be resisted and defeated, whether in or out of Parliament. We warn the Minister!

We have omitted a strange objection to the Bill—that it does not give mixed education. It is said the Colleges of Cork and Galway would be attended only by Catholics, and that of Belfast by Protestants. Both are errors. The middle class of Protestants in Cork is numerous—they and the poorer gentry would send their sons to the Cork College to save expense. The Catholics would assuredly do the same in Belfast; they do so with the Institution in the Academy there already; and though the Catholics in Cork, and the Protestants in Belfast, would be the majorities, enough of the opposite creed would be in each to produce all the wholesome restraint, and much of the wholesome toleration and goodwill, of the mixed system of Trinity. Were the objection good, however, it ought to content the advocates of separate education.

It has been said, too, that the Bill recognises a religious ascendency in the case of Belfast. This seems to us a total misconception of the words of the Minister. He suggested that the Southern College should be in Cork, the Western in Limerick or Galway, the Northern in Derry or Belfast. Had he stopped at Derry the mistake could never have occurred; but he went on to say that if the College were planted in Belfast, the building now used for the Belfast Academy would serve for the new College, and unless the echoes of the old theological professors be more permanent than common, we cannot understand the sectarianism of thebuildingin Belfast.

A more valid objection would be that the measure was not more complete; and the University system will certainly be crippled and impotent unless residence for a year at least in it be essential to a University degree.

The main defect of the Bill is its omitting to deal with Trinity College. It is said that the property is and was Protestant; but the Bill of '93, which admitted Catholics to be educated on this Protestant foundation, broke down the title; and, at all events, the property is as public as the Corporation, and is liable to all the demands of public convenience. But it is added that the property of Trinity College is not more than £30,000 or £40,000 a year, and that the grant for Catholic Clerical Education alone is £26,000 a year; and certainly till the Protestant Church be equalised to the wants of the Protestant population there will be something in the argument. When that Reformation comes, a third of the funds should be given for Protestant Clerical Education, and the College livings transferred to the Clerical College, and the remaining two-thirds preserved to Trinity College as a secular University.

Waiting that settlement, we see nothing better than the proposal so admirably urged by theMorning Chronicle, of the grant of £6,000—we say £10,000—a year, for the foundation of Catholic fellowships and scholarships in Trinity College. Some such change must be made, for it would be the grossest injustice to give Catholics a share, or the whole, of one or two new, untried, characterless Provincial Academies, and exclude them from the offices of the ancient, celebrated, and national University. If there is to be a religious equality, Trinity College must be opened, or augmented by Catholic endowment. For this no demand can be too loud and vehement, for the refusal will be an affront and a grievance to the Catholics of Ireland.

We have only run over the merits and faults of this plan. Next to a Tenure or a Militia Bill, it is the most important possible. Questions must arise on every section of it; and, however these questions be decided, we trust in God they will be decided without acrimony or recrimination, and that so divine a subject as Education will not lead to disunions which would prostrate our country.

A NATION ONCE AGAIN.

When boyhood's fire was in my bloodI read of ancient freemenFor Greece and Rome who bravely stood,Three Hundred Men and Three Men.[52]And then I prayed I yet might seeOur fetters rent in twain,And Ireland, long a province, beA Nation once again.

When boyhood's fire was in my blood

I read of ancient freemen

For Greece and Rome who bravely stood,

Three Hundred Men and Three Men.[52]

And then I prayed I yet might see

Our fetters rent in twain,

And Ireland, long a province, be

A Nation once again.

II.

And, from that time, through wildest woe,That hope has shone, a far light;Nor could love's brightest summer glowOutshine that solemn starlight:It seemed to watch above my headIn forum, field and fane;Its angel voice sang round my bed,"A Nation once again."

And, from that time, through wildest woe,

That hope has shone, a far light;

Nor could love's brightest summer glow

Outshine that solemn starlight:

It seemed to watch above my head

In forum, field and fane;

Its angel voice sang round my bed,

"A Nation once again."

III.

It whispered, too, that "freedom's arkAnd service high and holy,Would be profaned by feelings darkAnd passions vain or lowly:For freedom comes from God's right hand,And needs a godly train;And righteous men must make our landA Nation once again."

It whispered, too, that "freedom's ark

And service high and holy,

Would be profaned by feelings dark

And passions vain or lowly:

For freedom comes from God's right hand,

And needs a godly train;

And righteous men must make our land

A Nation once again."

IV.

So, as I grew from boy to man,I bent me to that bidding—My spirit of each selfish planAnd cruel passion ridding;For, thus I hoped some day to aid—Oh! cansuchhope be vain?—When my dear country shall be madeA Nation once again.

So, as I grew from boy to man,

I bent me to that bidding—

My spirit of each selfish plan

And cruel passion ridding;

For, thus I hoped some day to aid—

Oh! cansuchhope be vain?—

When my dear country shall be made

A Nation once again.

THE GERALDINES.

The Geraldines! the Geraldines!—'tis full a thousand yearsSince, 'mid the Tuscan vineyards, bright flashed their battle-spears;When Capet seized the crown of France, their iron shields were known,And their sabre-dint struck terror on the banks of the Garonne:Across the downs of Hastings they spurred hard by William's side,And the grey sands of Palestine with Moslem blood they dyed;But never then, nor thence, till now, has falsehood or disgraceBeen seen to soil Fitzgerald's plume, or mantle in his face.

The Geraldines! the Geraldines!—'tis full a thousand years

Since, 'mid the Tuscan vineyards, bright flashed their battle-spears;

When Capet seized the crown of France, their iron shields were known,

And their sabre-dint struck terror on the banks of the Garonne:

Across the downs of Hastings they spurred hard by William's side,

And the grey sands of Palestine with Moslem blood they dyed;

But never then, nor thence, till now, has falsehood or disgrace

Been seen to soil Fitzgerald's plume, or mantle in his face.

II.

The Geraldines! the Geraldines!—'tis true, in Strongbow's van,By lawless force, as conquerors, their Irish reign began;And, oh! through many a dark campaign they proved their prowess stern,In Leinster's plains and Munster's vales on king and chief and kerne;But noble was the cheer within the halls so rudely won,And generous was the steel-gloved hand that had such slaughter done;How gay their laugh, how proud their mien, you'd ask no herald's sign—Among a thousand you had known the princely Geraldine.

The Geraldines! the Geraldines!—'tis true, in Strongbow's van,

By lawless force, as conquerors, their Irish reign began;

And, oh! through many a dark campaign they proved their prowess stern,

In Leinster's plains and Munster's vales on king and chief and kerne;

But noble was the cheer within the halls so rudely won,

And generous was the steel-gloved hand that had such slaughter done;

How gay their laugh, how proud their mien, you'd ask no herald's sign—

Among a thousand you had known the princely Geraldine.

III.

These Geraldines! these Geraldines!—not long our air they breathed;Not long they fed on venison, in Irish water seethed;Not often had their children been by Irish mothers nursed;When from their full and genial hearts an Irish feeling burst!The English monarchs strove in vain, by law and force and bribe,To win from Irish thoughts and ways this "more than Irish" tribe;For still they clung to fosterage, tobreitheamh[53], cloak, and bard:What king dare say to Geraldine, "your Irish wife discard?"

These Geraldines! these Geraldines!—not long our air they breathed;

Not long they fed on venison, in Irish water seethed;

Not often had their children been by Irish mothers nursed;

When from their full and genial hearts an Irish feeling burst!

The English monarchs strove in vain, by law and force and bribe,

To win from Irish thoughts and ways this "more than Irish" tribe;

For still they clung to fosterage, tobreitheamh[53], cloak, and bard:

What king dare say to Geraldine, "your Irish wife discard?"

IV.

Ye Geraldines! ye Geraldines!—how royally ye reignedO'er Desmond broad, and rich Kildare, and English arts disdained:Your sword made knights, your banner waved, free was your bugle callBy Gleann's[54]green slopes, and Daingean's[55]tide, from Bearbha's[56]banks to Eóchaill.[57]What gorgeous shrines, whatbreitheamhlore, what minstrel feasts there wereIn and around Magh Nuadhaid's[58]keep, and palace-filled Adare!But not for rite or feast ye stayed, when friend or kin were pressed;And foemen fled, when "Crom Abu"[59]bespoke your lance in rest.

Ye Geraldines! ye Geraldines!—how royally ye reigned

O'er Desmond broad, and rich Kildare, and English arts disdained:

Your sword made knights, your banner waved, free was your bugle call

By Gleann's[54]green slopes, and Daingean's[55]tide, from Bearbha's[56]banks to Eóchaill.[57]

What gorgeous shrines, whatbreitheamhlore, what minstrel feasts there were

In and around Magh Nuadhaid's[58]keep, and palace-filled Adare!

But not for rite or feast ye stayed, when friend or kin were pressed;

And foemen fled, when "Crom Abu"[59]bespoke your lance in rest.

Ye Geraldines! ye Geraldines!—since Silken Thomas flungKing Henry's sword on council board, the English thanes among,Ye never ceased to battle brave against the English sway,Though axe and brand and treachery your proudest cut away.Of Desmond's blood through woman's veins passed on th' exhausted tide;His title lives—a Sacsanach churl usurps the lion's hide;And, though Kildare tower haughtily, there's ruin at the root,Else why, since Edward fell to earth, had such a tree no fruit?

Ye Geraldines! ye Geraldines!—since Silken Thomas flung

King Henry's sword on council board, the English thanes among,

Ye never ceased to battle brave against the English sway,

Though axe and brand and treachery your proudest cut away.

Of Desmond's blood through woman's veins passed on th' exhausted tide;

His title lives—a Sacsanach churl usurps the lion's hide;

And, though Kildare tower haughtily, there's ruin at the root,

Else why, since Edward fell to earth, had such a tree no fruit?

VI.

True Geraldines! brave Geraldines!—as torrents mould the earth,You channelled deep old Ireland's heart by constancy and worth:When Ginckel 'leaguered Limerick, the Irish soldiers gazedTo see if in the setting sun dead Desmond's banner blazed!And still it is the peasants' hope upon the Cuirreach's[60]mere,"They live, who'll see ten thousand men with good Lord Edward here"—So let them dream till brighter days, when, not by Edward's shade,But by some leader true as he, their lines shall be arrayed!

True Geraldines! brave Geraldines!—as torrents mould the earth,

You channelled deep old Ireland's heart by constancy and worth:

When Ginckel 'leaguered Limerick, the Irish soldiers gazed

To see if in the setting sun dead Desmond's banner blazed!

And still it is the peasants' hope upon the Cuirreach's[60]mere,

"They live, who'll see ten thousand men with good Lord Edward here"—

So let them dream till brighter days, when, not by Edward's shade,

But by some leader true as he, their lines shall be arrayed!

VII.

These Geraldines! these Geraldines!—rain wears away the rockAnd time may wear away the tribe that stood the battle's shock;But ever, sure, while one is left of all that honoured race,In front of Ireland's chivalry is that Fitzgerald's place:And, though the last were dead and gone, how many a field and town,From Thomas Court to Abbeyfeile, would cherish their renown,And men would say of valour's rise, or ancient power's decline,"'Twill never soar, it never shone, as did the Geraldine."

These Geraldines! these Geraldines!—rain wears away the rock

And time may wear away the tribe that stood the battle's shock;

But ever, sure, while one is left of all that honoured race,

In front of Ireland's chivalry is that Fitzgerald's place:

And, though the last were dead and gone, how many a field and town,

From Thomas Court to Abbeyfeile, would cherish their renown,

And men would say of valour's rise, or ancient power's decline,

"'Twill never soar, it never shone, as did the Geraldine."

VIII.

The Geraldines! the Geraldines!—and are there any fearsWithin the sons of conquerors for full a thousand years?Can treason spring from out a soil bedewed with martyrs' blood?Or has that grown a purling brook, which long rushed down a flood?—By Desmond swept with sword and fire—by clan and keep laid low—By Silken Thomas and his kin,—by sainted Edward, no!The forms of centuries rise up, and in the Irish lineCommand their son to take the post that fits the Geraldine![61]

The Geraldines! the Geraldines!—and are there any fears

Within the sons of conquerors for full a thousand years?

Can treason spring from out a soil bedewed with martyrs' blood?

Or has that grown a purling brook, which long rushed down a flood?—

By Desmond swept with sword and fire—by clan and keep laid low—

By Silken Thomas and his kin,—by sainted Edward, no!

The forms of centuries rise up, and in the Irish line

Command their son to take the post that fits the Geraldine![61]

O'BRIEN OF ARA.[62]

Air—The Piper of Blessington.

Tall are the towers of O'Ceinneidigh[63]—Broad are the lands of MacCarrthaigh[64]—Desmond feeds five hundred men a-day;Yet, here's to O'Briain[65]of Ara!Up from the Castle of Druim-aniar,[66]Down from the top of Camailte,Clansman and kinsman are coming hereTo give him thecead mile failte.

Tall are the towers of O'Ceinneidigh[63]—

Broad are the lands of MacCarrthaigh[64]—

Desmond feeds five hundred men a-day;

Yet, here's to O'Briain[65]of Ara!

Up from the Castle of Druim-aniar,[66]

Down from the top of Camailte,

Clansman and kinsman are coming here

To give him thecead mile failte.

II.

See you the mountains look huge at eve—So is our chieftain in battle—Welcome he has for the fugitive,—Uisce-beatha[67]fighting, and cattle!Up from the Castle of Druim-aniar,Down from the top of CamailteGossip and ally are coming hereTo give him thecead mile failte.

See you the mountains look huge at eve—

So is our chieftain in battle—

Welcome he has for the fugitive,—

Uisce-beatha[67]fighting, and cattle!

Up from the Castle of Druim-aniar,

Down from the top of Camailte

Gossip and ally are coming here

To give him thecead mile failte.

III.

Horses the valleys are tramping on,Sleek from the Sacsanach manger—Creachtsthe hills are encamping on,Empty the bawns of the stranger!Up from the Castle of Druim-aniar,Down from the top of Camailte,Ceithearn[68]andbuannachtare coming hereTo give him thecead mile failte.

Horses the valleys are tramping on,

Sleek from the Sacsanach manger—

Creachtsthe hills are encamping on,

Empty the bawns of the stranger!

Up from the Castle of Druim-aniar,

Down from the top of Camailte,

Ceithearn[68]andbuannachtare coming here

To give him thecead mile failte.

IV.

He has black silver from Cill-da-lua[69]—Rian[70]and Cearbhall[71]are neighbours—'N Aonach[72]submits with afuililiú—Butler is meat for our sabres!Up from the Castle of Druim-aniarDown from the top of Camailte,Rian and Cearbhall are coming hereTo give him thecead mile failte.

He has black silver from Cill-da-lua[69]—

Rian[70]and Cearbhall[71]are neighbours—

'N Aonach[72]submits with afuililiú—

Butler is meat for our sabres!

Up from the Castle of Druim-aniar

Down from the top of Camailte,

Rian and Cearbhall are coming here

To give him thecead mile failte.

'Tis scarce a week since through Osairghe[73]Chased he the Baron of Durmhagh[74]—Forced him five rivers to cross, or heHad died by the sword of Red Murchadh![75]Up from the Castle of Druim-aniar,Down from the top of Camailte,All the Ui Bhriain are coming hereTo give him thecead mile failte.

'Tis scarce a week since through Osairghe[73]

Chased he the Baron of Durmhagh[74]—

Forced him five rivers to cross, or he

Had died by the sword of Red Murchadh![75]

Up from the Castle of Druim-aniar,

Down from the top of Camailte,

All the Ui Bhriain are coming here

To give him thecead mile failte.

VI.

Tall are the towers of O'Ceinneidigh—Broad are the lands of MacCarrthaigh—Desmond feeds five hundred men a-day;Yet, here's to O'Briain of Ara!Up from the Castle of Druim-aniar,Down from the top of Camailte,Clansman and kinsman are coming hereTo give him thecead mile failte.

Tall are the towers of O'Ceinneidigh—

Broad are the lands of MacCarrthaigh—

Desmond feeds five hundred men a-day;

Yet, here's to O'Briain of Ara!

Up from the Castle of Druim-aniar,

Down from the top of Camailte,

Clansman and kinsman are coming here

To give him thecead mile failte.

THE SACK OF BALTIMORE.[76]

The summer sun is falling soft on Carbery's hundred isles—The summer sun is gleaming still through Gabriel's rough defiles—Old Inisherkin's crumbled fane looks like a moulting bird;And in a calm and sleepy swell the ocean tide is heard;The hookers lie upon the beach; the children cease their play;The gossips leave the little inn; the households kneel to pray—And full of love and peace and rest—its daily labour o'er—Upon that cosy creek there lay the town of Baltimore.

The summer sun is falling soft on Carbery's hundred isles—

The summer sun is gleaming still through Gabriel's rough defiles—

Old Inisherkin's crumbled fane looks like a moulting bird;

And in a calm and sleepy swell the ocean tide is heard;

The hookers lie upon the beach; the children cease their play;

The gossips leave the little inn; the households kneel to pray—

And full of love and peace and rest—its daily labour o'er—

Upon that cosy creek there lay the town of Baltimore.

II.

A deeper rest, a starry trance, has come with midnight there;No sound, except that throbbing wave in earth, or sea, or air.The massive capes and ruined towers seem conscious of the calm;The fibrous sod and stunted trees are breathing heavy balm.So still the night, these two long barques round Dunashad that glide,Must trust their oars—methinks not few—against the ebbing tide—Oh! some sweet mission of true love must urge them to the shore—They bring some lover to his bride, who sighs in Baltimore!

A deeper rest, a starry trance, has come with midnight there;

No sound, except that throbbing wave in earth, or sea, or air.

The massive capes and ruined towers seem conscious of the calm;

The fibrous sod and stunted trees are breathing heavy balm.

So still the night, these two long barques round Dunashad that glide,

Must trust their oars—methinks not few—against the ebbing tide—

Oh! some sweet mission of true love must urge them to the shore—

They bring some lover to his bride, who sighs in Baltimore!

III.

All, all asleep within each roof along that rocky street,And these must be the lover's friends, with gently gliding feet—A stifled gasp! a dreamy noise! "the roof is in a flame!"From out their beds, and to their doors, rush maid, and sire, and dame—And meet, upon the threshold stone, the gleaming sabre's fall,And o'er each black and bearded face the white or crimson shawl—The yell of "Allah" breaks above the prayer and shriek and roar—Oh, blessed God! the Algerine is lord of Baltimore!

All, all asleep within each roof along that rocky street,

And these must be the lover's friends, with gently gliding feet—

A stifled gasp! a dreamy noise! "the roof is in a flame!"

From out their beds, and to their doors, rush maid, and sire, and dame—

And meet, upon the threshold stone, the gleaming sabre's fall,

And o'er each black and bearded face the white or crimson shawl—

The yell of "Allah" breaks above the prayer and shriek and roar—

Oh, blessed God! the Algerine is lord of Baltimore!

IV.

Then flung the youth his naked hand against the shearing sword;Then sprung the mother on the brand with which her son was gored;Then sunk the grandsire on the floor, his grand-babes clutching wild;Then fled the maiden moaning faint, and nestled with the child;But see, yon pirate strangled lies, and crushed with splashing heel,While o'er him in an Irish hand there sweeps his Syrian steel—Though virtue sink, and courage fail, and misers yield their store,There'sonehearth well avengéd in the sack of Baltimore!

Then flung the youth his naked hand against the shearing sword;

Then sprung the mother on the brand with which her son was gored;

Then sunk the grandsire on the floor, his grand-babes clutching wild;

Then fled the maiden moaning faint, and nestled with the child;

But see, yon pirate strangled lies, and crushed with splashing heel,

While o'er him in an Irish hand there sweeps his Syrian steel—

Though virtue sink, and courage fail, and misers yield their store,

There'sonehearth well avengéd in the sack of Baltimore!

Mid-summer morn, in woodland nigh, the birds began to sing—They see not now the milking maids—deserted is the spring!Mid-summer day—this gallant rides from distant Bandon's town—These hookers crossed from stormy Skull, that skiff from Affadown;They only found the smoking walls, with neighbours' blood besprent,And on the strewed and trampled beach awhile they wildly went—Then dashed to sea, and passed Cape Cléire, and saw five leagues beforeThe pirate galleys vanishing that ravaged Baltimore.

Mid-summer morn, in woodland nigh, the birds began to sing—

They see not now the milking maids—deserted is the spring!

Mid-summer day—this gallant rides from distant Bandon's town—

These hookers crossed from stormy Skull, that skiff from Affadown;

They only found the smoking walls, with neighbours' blood besprent,

And on the strewed and trampled beach awhile they wildly went—

Then dashed to sea, and passed Cape Cléire, and saw five leagues before

The pirate galleys vanishing that ravaged Baltimore.

VI.

Oh! some must tug the galley's oar, and some must tend the steed—This boy will bear a Scheik's chibouk, and that a Bey's jerreed.Oh! some are for the arsenals, by beauteous Dardanelles;And some are in the caravan to Mecca's sandy dells.The maid that Bandon gallant sought is chosen for the Dey—She's safe—he's dead—she stabbed him in the midst of his Serai;And when to die a death of fire that noble maid they bore,She only smiled—O'Driscoll's child—she thought of Baltimore.

Oh! some must tug the galley's oar, and some must tend the steed—

This boy will bear a Scheik's chibouk, and that a Bey's jerreed.

Oh! some are for the arsenals, by beauteous Dardanelles;

And some are in the caravan to Mecca's sandy dells.

The maid that Bandon gallant sought is chosen for the Dey—

She's safe—he's dead—she stabbed him in the midst of his Serai;

And when to die a death of fire that noble maid they bore,

She only smiled—O'Driscoll's child—she thought of Baltimore.

VII.

'Tis two long years since sunk the town beneath that bloody band,And all around its trampled hearths a larger concourse stand,Where high upon a gallows tree, a yelling wretch is seen—'Tis Hackett of Dungarvan—he who steered the Algerine!He fell amid a sullen shout, with scarce a passing prayer,For he had slain the kith and kin of many a hundred there—Some muttered of MacMurchadh, who brought the Norman o'er—Some cursed him with Iscariot, that day in Baltimore.

'Tis two long years since sunk the town beneath that bloody band,

And all around its trampled hearths a larger concourse stand,

Where high upon a gallows tree, a yelling wretch is seen—

'Tis Hackett of Dungarvan—he who steered the Algerine!

He fell amid a sullen shout, with scarce a passing prayer,

For he had slain the kith and kin of many a hundred there—

Some muttered of MacMurchadh, who brought the Norman o'er—

Some cursed him with Iscariot, that day in Baltimore.

LAMENT FOR THE DEATH OF EOGHAN RUADH O'NEILL.[77]

"Did they dare, did they dare, to slay Eoghan Ruadh O'Neill?""Yes, they slew with poison him they feared to meet with steel.""May God wither up their hearts! May their blood cease to flow!May they walk in living death, who poisoned Eoghan Ruadh!"

"Did they dare, did they dare, to slay Eoghan Ruadh O'Neill?"

"Yes, they slew with poison him they feared to meet with steel."

"May God wither up their hearts! May their blood cease to flow!

May they walk in living death, who poisoned Eoghan Ruadh!"

II.

"Though it break my heart to hear, say again the bitter words.From Derry, against Cromwell, he marched to measure swords:But the weapon of the Sacsanach met him on his way,And he died at Cloch Uachtar,[78]upon St. Leonard's day.

"Though it break my heart to hear, say again the bitter words.

From Derry, against Cromwell, he marched to measure swords:

But the weapon of the Sacsanach met him on his way,

And he died at Cloch Uachtar,[78]upon St. Leonard's day.

III.

"Wail, wail ye for the Mighty One! Wail, wail ye for the Dead!Quench the hearth, and hold the breath—with ashes strew the head.How tenderly we loved him! How deeply we deplore!Holy Saviour! but to think we shall never see him more.

"Wail, wail ye for the Mighty One! Wail, wail ye for the Dead!

Quench the hearth, and hold the breath—with ashes strew the head.

How tenderly we loved him! How deeply we deplore!

Holy Saviour! but to think we shall never see him more.

IV.

"Sagest in the council was he, kindest in the hall!Sure we never won a battle—'twas Eoghan won them all.Had he lived—had he lived—our dear country had been free;But he's dead, but he's dead, and 'tis slaves we'll ever be.

"Sagest in the council was he, kindest in the hall!

Sure we never won a battle—'twas Eoghan won them all.

Had he lived—had he lived—our dear country had been free;

But he's dead, but he's dead, and 'tis slaves we'll ever be.

"O'Farrell and Clanrickarde, Preston and Red Hugh,Audley and MacMahon, ye are valiant, wise, and true;But—what, what are ye all to our darling who is gone?The Rudder of our Ship was he, our Castle's corner stone!

"O'Farrell and Clanrickarde, Preston and Red Hugh,

Audley and MacMahon, ye are valiant, wise, and true;

But—what, what are ye all to our darling who is gone?

The Rudder of our Ship was he, our Castle's corner stone!

VI.

"Wail, wail him through the Island! Weep, weep for our pride!Would that on the battle-field our gallant chief had died!Weep the Victor of Beann-bhorbh[79]—weep him, young men and old;Weep for him, ye women—your Beautiful lies cold!

"Wail, wail him through the Island! Weep, weep for our pride!

Would that on the battle-field our gallant chief had died!

Weep the Victor of Beann-bhorbh[79]—weep him, young men and old;

Weep for him, ye women—your Beautiful lies cold!

VII.

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