Having ventured to speak of these verses so critically, I wish to support my opinion by referring to the text. It will be observed that the author is fond of indulging in epithet, as, "steep shore"—"high harp"-"deep roar;" and often double epithet, as, "darkswelling"-"full-swelling”. "—"soft-swelling"-"fair-swelling"-tending somewhat to turgidity. In the fourth and sixth lines the metre is defective; a little care would have made the sixth smooth, and the sentiment even more bitter. The original stands thus "With her back towards Britain, her face to the West;" "with," being expletive and inelegant; "towards," false in metre unless mispronounced. I think the line stands better thus Her back turn'd to Britain,-her face to the West. The metre perfect; composition more compact; and turning the back, increasing the expression of dislike. The four last lines of the second verse, and the entire of the third and fourth, are rich in antithesis, powerful in expression, and faultless in versification, with the one exception of an affected pronunciation of "Milesian." The last verse is, unfortunately, the weakest; and the image "soft-swelling wave," forced;-a bosom cannot be called a wave, and the homely phrase "make haste" is infelicitous at the end of so lofty a strain. But whatever its faults may be, this ode may be ranked among the highest examples of patriotic exhortation and political invective. OUR ISLAND! EDWARD LYSAGHT. Born, 1763. Air, "The Rogue's March." He passed through Trinity College, Dublin, Edward Lysaght was a gentleman of the county of Clare, whose convivial nature won for him the sobriquet of "Pleasant Ned." with credit. He was a fluent song writer. indicate a nice ear for euphony, (vide "Kate of Garnavilla," in this volume,) but his patriotic songs are, perhaps, his best; he does the light cavalry business of political warfare with much spirit, cutting and giving point as he dashes along. MAY God, in whose hand Is the lot of each land Who rules over ocean and dry land Inspire our good king From his presence to fling Ill advisers who'd ruin our island. Don't we feel 'tis our dear native island! May Orange and Green* No longer be seen Bestain'd with the blood of our island. The fair ones we prize Declare they despise Those who'd make it a slavish and vile land; And we'll gallantly guard All the rights and delights of our island- Bright beauties adorn our dear island! At St. Patrick's command Vipers quitted our land But he's wanted again in our island! For her interest and pride, We oft fought by the side Of England, that haughty and high land; Nay, we'd do so again, If she'd let us remain A free and a flourishing island *Orange and green are the distinctive and antagonistic colours of the two great parties so long dividing Ireland but, as orange and green are harmonious in the artistic arrangement of colour, let us hope that a similar result may take place in political chromatics, and that neither of the parties will continue to grind their colours with such intensity as formerly:-the occasional mixture of a little more oil would make them work more smoothly; and, apropos-the olive, that emblem of peace, has good oleaginous qualities. But she, like a crafty and sly land, She would lay in the dust All the freedom and strength of our island. A few years ago— We agreed with that surly and sly land, Should the other defend, And the Crown be the link of each island! As to credit her word, When she's breaking her oath with our island? Let us steadily stand By our king and our land, And it shan't be a slavish or vile land; Nor impudent Pitt Unpunished commit An attempt on the rights of our island. Each voice should resound through our island- Nature's favourite spot And I'd sooner be shot Than surrender the rights of our island! This alludes to the celebrated Declaration of Irish Independence in 1782. In an address to the Crown, moved as an amendment by Henry Grattan, and carried nem, con (too long to quote in extenso), occurs the following passage:-"That there is no body of men competent to make laws to bind this nation, except the King, Lords, and Commons, of Ireland; nor any other Parliament which hath any authority or power of any sort whatever, in this country, save only the Parliament of Ireland." The address further declares the people of Ireland "never expressed a desire to share the freedom of England, without declaring a determination to share her fate likewise-STANDING OR FALLING WITH THE BRITISH NATION."—Address to the Crown, moved by Mr. Grattan in the Irish Parliament, 16th April, 1782. The Ministry that lost America to England had just gone out. The Rockingham Administration came in, and in a milder spirit of rule the English Parliament not only repealed the obnoxious statute complained of (6th of George I.), but subsequently renounced all claim to bind Ireland. This neighbourly call reminds us of a funny bit of dialogue in the old farce of "The Citizen," where the spendthrift son, George, wishing to make his avaricious father believe he is very thrifty, says, friendship is all very well, but must not interfere with self-interest. "Love your neighbour, sir; but don't pull down your own hedge." The father replies, "Very good, indeed George! Love your neighbour, and pull down his hedge." GREEN WERE THE FIELDS. GEORGE NUGENT REYNOlds. Air, "Savourneen Deelish." GREEN were the fields where my forefathers dwelt, 0; Tho' our farm it was small, yet comforts we felt, O. At length came the day when our lease did expire, Erin, &c. Tho' the laws I obey'd, no protection I found, 0,+ With what grief I beheld my cot burn'd to the ground, O! Forc'd from my home; yea, from where I was born, To range the wide world-poor, helpless, forlorn; I look back with regret and my heart-strings are torn. With principles pure, patriotic, and firm, Erin, &c. To my country attached, and a friend to reform, I supported old Ireland-was ready to die for it; If her foes e'er prevail'd I was well known to sigh for it; But hark! I hear sounds, and my heart is strong beating, Loud cries for redress, and avaunt on retreating, Erin, &c. We have numbers, and numbers do constitute power, * Ireland, my darling! for ever adieu! The saying "there is one law for the rich and another for the poor," which we hear so often, "even in England," in these days, was more lamentably pregnant with truth in Ireland in those days. This verse, I apprehend, is an interpolation. This song, supposed to have been written some time about 1792, was given in one of the volumes emanating from the Young Ireland party, under the title of "The Exile of Erin❞— that title being usurped for the purpose of giving colour to a most unworthy attempt, which is treated of hereafter. I say usurped-for the original and true title of the song is that given to it here; but it was called the Exile of Erin in the publication named above, with a view to make it appear as the first part of a subject carried out in a higher form in the second part by the same author-thus attempting to create a belief in two equally improbable (or rather impossible) things-namely, that the author of "Green were the Fields" could ever have written the noble lyric of Campbell, or that Campbell could have been guilty of the meanness of literary piracy. The internal evidence borne by the two compositions is sufficient to establish the impossibility of the first, and the pre-eminent literary reputation of Campbell (my honoured and lamented friend) is sufficient for the second par of the question. It is worthy of remark, too, that the word "exile" never once occurs in this song,-while "Exile of Erin" is in the first line of Campbell's, and, most naturally, suggested its title. THOMAS CAMPBELL. Born, 1777. Died, 1844. This celebrated lyric is remarkable in two ways. First, for its intrinsic merits, and next, that its touching expression of sentiment, as that of an exiled Irishman, sprang from the sympathy of a man who was not a native of Ireland. But that man had a deep U |