Sheridan Le Fanu

“ There are to be sure in Ireland, as in all countries, poems which deserve to be laughed at. The native productions of which I speak, frequently abound in absurdities—absurdities which are often, too, provokingly mixed up with what is beautiful; but I strongly and absolutely deny that the prevailing or even the usual character of Irish poetry is that of comicality. No country, no time, is devoid of real poetry, or something approaching to it ”

“ And his eye like the lightnin' from under the cloud.
And all the girls liked him, for he could spake civil,
And sweet when he chose it, for he was the divil.
An' there wasn't a girl from thirty-five undher,
Divil a matter how crass, but he could come round her.
But of all the sweet girls that smiled on him, but one
Was the girl of his heart, an' he loved her alone.
An' warm as the sun, as the rock firm an' sure,
Was the love of the heart of Phaudhrig Crohoore ”

“ And the heart an' hope iv Ireland in the could grave was laid.
'The day I saw you first, with the sunshine fallin' round ye,
My heart fairly opened with the grandeur of the view:
For ten thousand Irish boys that day did surround ye,
An' I swore to stand by them till death, an' fight for you.
'Ye wor the bravest gentleman, an' the best that ever stood,
And your eyelid never thrembled for danger nor for dread,
An' nobleness was flowin' in each stream of your blood—
My bleasing on you night au' day, an' Glory be your bed. ”