Erin

“ Oh, Erin! I love thee in spite of thine errors,
And now for thee, Erin, my heart is forlorn,
Disturb'd as thou art by such various terrors,
Thou beautiful isle, where my kindred were born.
E'en now, in my thoughts, I can climb thy steep
mountains,
Or roam through thy valleys, where green shamrocks
grow,
Or over thy meadows, where hedges of hawthorn
Stand gracefully clipp'd, an impassable row. ”

“ ERIN, OH ERIN. Like the bright lamp, that shone in Kildare's holy fane, [1]
And burn'd thro' long ages of darkness and storm,
Is the heart that sorrows have frowned on in vain,
Whose spirit outlives them, unfading and warm.
Erin, oh Erin, thus bright thro' the tears
Of a long night of bondage, thy spirit appears.
The nations have fallen, and thou still art young,
Thy sun is but rising, when others are set;
And tho' slavery's cloud o'er thy morning hath hung,
The full noon of freedom shall beam round thee yet. ”

“ O Erin, my mother Erin, dear land more kind than wise,
I think of thee till loving tears come thronging to my eyes.
Thou hast nourished on thy bosom many sons of deathless fame;
Who, while the world will last, shall shed a lustre on thy name.
While Foyle's proud swelling waters roll past Derry to the sea;
While yet a single vestige of old Limerick's walls there be;
Shall those who love thee well, fair land, lament that feuds divide
The sons of those who for each cause stood fast on either side. ”

“ Heavy my heart out of Erin steering
And nearing Alba of the beetling brows.
My foot is fast in my chiming curragh,
Tears of sorrow my sad heart fill.
Who lean not on God are but feeble-minded,
Without His Love we go blinded still.
There is a grey eye that tears are thronging,
Fixed with longing on Erin's shore,
It shall never see o'er the waste of waters
The sons and daughters of Erin more. ”

“ There I beheld in a decorated room the fairest man of Erin's heroes. He wore a tufted purple cloak. White as snow was one of his cheeks, the other was red and speckled like foxglove. Blue as hyacinth was one of his eyes, dark as a stag-beetle's back was the other. The bushy head of fair golden hair upon him was as large as a reaping-basket, and it touches the edge of his haunches. It is as curly as a ram's head. If a sackful of red-shelled nuts were spilt on the crown of his head, not one of them would fall on the floor, but remain on the hooks and plaits and swordlets of their hair. ”

“ And echoes through heart and brain,
"Be sure that the day is coming
"When Erin shall rise again
"She only of all the nations,
"Since in dust our temple lies,
"Has not our blood on our garments
"Has brought no tears to our eyes,
"He says, they prosper who love us
"Thy Erin at last shall rise."
I waited, watched for the blessing
Promised, oh so long ago,
I looked for the brilliant future
The end of the long drawn woe,
My hopes, with my years, Time the reaper,
Hath laughingly laid them low.
Oh Erin! my mother Erin!
Will "to be" repeat what has been? ”

“ Erin is not now as it was when you left it. The great king Finn and his Feni are all gone; and you will find, instead of them, a holy father and hosts of priests and saints. Now, think well on what I say to you, and keep my words in your mind. If once you alight from the white steed, you will never come back to me. Again I warn you, if you place your feet on the green sod in Erin, you will never return to this lovely land. A third time, O Oisin, my beloved husband, a third time I say to you, if you alight from the white steed you will never see me again. ”

“ This child is a 'scion of contention' for the men of Erin with the men of Alba for hospitality, and shape, and form and horsemanship. Sad is his slaughter! 'Tis a 'swine that goes before mast,' 'tis a babe in age! the best crown-prince that has ever come into Erin! The child of Conaire son of Eterscél, Lé fri flaith is his name. Seven years there are in his age. It seems to me very likely that he is miserable because of the many appearances on his hair and the various hues that the hair assumes upon him. This is his special household, the thrice fifty lads that are around him. ”

“ She labored all day in the hot little kitchen;
She washed and she ironed and hummed most bewitchin’,
The beautiful anthem of Erin go bragh.
All friendless and lonely was Maggie O’Ryan,
No sweethearts there came her lone heart to beguile;
Yet cheerful and gladsome, nor sobbin’ nor sighin’,
For friends that were left in the Emerald Isle;
No threnody hers for the land she was born in;
She always arose before six in the mornin’,
And sang the sweet strains of her “Erin Mavourneen”—
The minor melodics of Erin go bragh. ”

“ But Erin—green Erin—still is ours.
And to her name our fond hearts cling.
Each land we visit claims some grace—
Some special charm it calls its own;
Yet patriot souls must love the place
Which childhood's happy memories crown. ”

“ If the men of Erin were in one place, even though the corpse of his mother or his father were in front of each, not one could refrain from laughing at them. Wheresoever the king of a cantred is in the house, not one of them attains his seat on his bed because of that trio of jesters. Whenever the king's eye visits them it smiles at every glance. Liken thou that, O Fer rogain!"
"Easily done. Mael and Mlithe and Admlithe--those are the king of Erin's three jesters. By each of them a man will perish, and among them they will share a man's triumph." ”

“ Faith, and near the mountains and the sunny lakes and brooks it is, Like the olden seanichies, the pair of us belong. Far and broad our journeyin', up and down the land we go, Today among the mountains and tomorrow by the sea; Pleasant are the roads with us, and to a welcome grand we go, Erin wins the heart of you, whoever you may be. Erin's heart will capture you, if you will but listen now, Great she was afore the Danes and all her Saxon foes, After that the sorrows came, sure your eyes will glisten now, Up, my lad, and sing for them "The Dark Little Rose." ”

“ It is a great blessing to Erin in these hard, wrangling times, when so much that is good and sweet threatens to disappear, to have two such noble singers raising their melodious voices to appease the angry passions of men. Nor should he be forgotten, who has been the maccenas of these gifted and noble daughters of holy church—Rev. Fr. Matthew Russell, S. J., himself a sweet and true poet. ”

“ Erin, oh Erin, tho' long in the shade,
Thy star will shine out when the proudest shall fade.
Unchilled by the rain, and unwaked by the wind,
The lily lies sleeping thro' winter's cold hour,
Till Spring's light touch her fetters unbind,
And daylight and liberty bless the young flower.
Thus Erin, oh Erin, thy winter is past,
And the hope that lived thro' it shall blossom at last.
[1] The inextinguishable fire of St. Bridget, at Kildare, which Giraldus mentions.
DRINK TO HER. Drink to her, who long,
Hath waked the poet's sigh.
The girl, who gave to song
What gold could never buy. ”

“ Said the eldest of them,—
“If I had the son of the King of Erin here I would give on him a gift. I would give him an apple. There is not a going astray, nor any (trouble) , let him throw the apple in the air, there would come a court and castle in the track; there would come food and drink in the track.”
Said the second son, “If I had the son of the King of Erin here, I would give him a ring; and there is not a battle or breaking that would come on him, let him raise the ring between himself and his (enemies) he would blind them and kill them all.” ”

“ It is a sign of the times, however, that Erin is beginning to be alive to the fact that in the main the pathriot is just one of those persons with whom she can very well afford to dispense. Vaulting ambition hath rather overleaped itself in the matter of these gentry, and their posturings and screamings and clenchings of the fist are no longer received with altogether unanimous applause. That there is reason in all things is a simple lesson which pathriots who are not wholly careless of their future will do well to learn. ”

“ Are Erin's sons so good or so cold,
As not to be tempted by woman or gold?'
'Sir Knight! I feel not the least alarm,
No son of Erin will offer me harm:
For, though they love women and golden store
Sir Knight! they love honour and virtue more.
[272]
On she went, and her maiden smile
In safety lighted her round the green isle;
And blest for ever is she who relied
Upon Erin's honour and Erin's pride.
THE MEETING OF THE WATERS
There is not in the wide world a valley so sweet,
As that vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet ”

“ Erin’s wife at first, because her husband had been alive. It was probable, then, that what William Henry had said was true; he was Mrs. Erin’s son, but not Mr. Erin’s, though he passed as such. This was doubtless the reason why her uncle and he were on such distant terms with one another, and why he never called him father. On the other hand, it was no reason why her uncle should be so harsh with the young man, and treat him with such scant consideration. Some [79] women would have despised the lad for the misfortune of his birth, but Margaret was incapable of an injustice ”

“ His [48] appetite, even for fame, had for the present lost its keenness. Love possessed him wholly; he cared only for Margaret.
‘To think that a new reading of an old play—though to be sure it is Shakespeare’s play—should produce so much!’ went on Mr. Erin complacently. ‘Good heavens! what would not the public give for a new play by the immortal bard?’
‘The question is,’ observed William Henry, ‘what would you give, Mr. Erin?’
The remark was so unexpected, and delivered in such a quiet tone, that for a moment the antiquary was dumbfounded, and between disbelief and expectancy made no reply. ”

“ In that time there was a law in the world that if a young man came to woo a young woman, and her people wouldn't give her to him, the young woman should get her death by the law.
There was a king in Erin at that time who had a daughter, and he had a son too, who was called Kil Arthur, son of the monarch of Erin. ”

“ Erin curtly.
‘He says that from the peculiar formation of the ducts of the deer, or perhaps from the absence of them—— I know nothing about the matter myself, sir,’ put in the unhappy Frank precipitately, for the antiquary was looking daggers at him.
‘You know quite as much about it as your friend then,’ thundered Mr. Erin. ‘Great heavens! that a man like him, or you, or anybody, [98] should venture to pick a hole in one of the noblest descriptions of the language: to find faults in Shakespeare himself! ”

“ There had been a sort of false dawn of love with her, but, now that her uncle seemed to give such solid ground for hope, the sun which had long lain in wait behind those clouds of doubt came out with all the splendour of the morn. Love arose within her.
As Mr. Erin reverently placed his treasures in the iron safe, William Henry stole his arm round Margaret’s waist:—
‘Is there on earthe a manne more treue
Than Willie Erin is to you?’
he whispered softly: and for the first time she did not reprove him. ”

“ No smile is on the lips of Erin's pale daughter. She is apparently in earnest, though both Vulcan and myself, talking it over subsequently, unite in opinion that, perhaps, she had been availing herself of this rare and unique opportunity of "getting at" the Saxon. ”

“ Erin’s adoration has taken such pains to instil gentleness and feeling among his fellow-creatures, that his disciple should have harboured the sentiments he sometimes expressed; and yet it is hardly to be wondered at when one remembers that the advocates of Christianity itself have fallen into the same error, and from the same cause. Mr. Samuel Erin was not only a devotee, but a fanatic. ”

“ Each five hundred of these had five hundred children and five hundred dogs. They were in the habit of going about in one band, and were called the Sturdy Strolling Beggarly Brotherhood. There was a knight in Erin called O'Cronicert, with whom they spent a day and a year; and they ate up all that he had, and made a poor man of him, till he had nothing left but an old tumble-down black house, and an old lame white horse. There was a king in Erin called Brian Boru; and O'Cronicert went to him for help. ”

“ Erin, falling into rather than sitting down on the nearest chair; ‘it is impossible—you are imposing on me.’
William Henry turned very white, and looked very grave and pained.
‘Oh, uncle, how can you say such a thing!’ cried Margaret, plaintively: ‘poor Willie!’
‘I did not mean that, my lad, of course,’ gasped Mr. Erin; ‘I scarcely know what I say. It seems too great a thing to be true. His hair!’ He eyed it with speechless reverence, [176] as it lay in his son’s open palm ”

“ Erin’s views in the matter; but it would have given him great distress to quarrel with him. Unhappily, an antiquary the genuineness of whose curios has been disputed, is not often a chivalric antagonist. It is his habit, like the wild Indian and the wilder Irishman, to dance upon his prostrate foe.
‘The obstinacy of the commentator,’ resumed Mr. Erin, ‘is proverbial, and is on some accounts to be excused, but the strictures suggested by ignorance and malignity are mere carping.’
‘But it was yourself, sir,’ pleaded Dennis, ‘who invited criticism: I did not volunteer it.’
‘Criticism, yes ”

“ They set the kingship of Erin upon him. And he said: "I will enquire of wise men that I myself may be wise."
Then he uttered all this as he had been taught by the man at the wave, who said this to him: "Thy reign will be subject to a restriction, but the bird-reign will be noble, and this shall be thy restriction, i.e. thy tabu.
"Thou shalt not go righthandwise round Tara and lefthandwise round Bregia. ”