MacCarthy

“ MacCarthy reached Dublin in December 1689, and was afterwards chosen to command the Irish regiments which Louis XIV demanded in exchange for those sent to Ireland under Lauzun. He had been a thorn in Tyrconnel's side, who is supposed to have favoured the selection in order to get rid of a troublesome opponent. ”

“ Hither also came the sons of Cormac Oge, and it was probably on this occasion that their sister Mary MacCarthy married the young Earl. The union was not fated to last long, nor to give an heir to the House of Desmond. The barony of Kerrycurrihy was taken possession of at Kinsale, and MacCarthy Reagh, in whose castle of Kilbrittain Gerald of Kildare had lately found a home, consented to come to Cork and to give his brother as a hostage. He hesitated to sacrifice his cattle, and was easily persuaded by Ormonde, who was now on unusually good terms with Grey. ”

“ Mr. MacCarthy's translations strike us as among the most successful experiments which have been made to represent in our language the characteristic beauties of the finest productions of other nations. They are sufficiently faithful, as may be readily seen by the Spanish scholar, as the translator has the courage to print the original and his version side by side. The rich, imaginative passages of Calderon are reproduced in language of such grace and flexibility as shows in Mr. MacCarthy no inconsiderable amount of poetical power. The measures of Calderon are retained ”

“ But yield not, Con, to worldly pride Thou may'st be rich, but hast not all; Far richer he who for his bride Has won fair Anne of Cushendall. "She leans upon a husband's arm, Surrounded by a valiant clan, In Antrim's Glynnes, by fair Glenarm, Beyond the pearly-paven Bann; 'Mid hazel woods no stately tree Looks up to heaven more graceful-tall, When summer clothes its boughs, than she, MacDonnell's wife of Cushendall!" The bard retires amid the throng, No sweet applause rewards his song, No friendly lip that guerdon breathes, To bard more sweet than golden wreaths. ”

“ MacCarthy was at Cork to welcome James on his arrival, and was left in command there when the king hurried to Dublin. He followed him later with the forces raised in Munster, and was made master-general of artillery in Mountjoy's place. He hesitated about accepting the post, though it was made specially independent of the English master-general, lest it should injure his prospects in France, but Avaux reassured him on that point (D'Alton) . ”

“ The MacSheehys, the remnant of the Desmond gallowglasses, ‘preyed, spoiled, and murdered’ over eighty English families. Of three brothers, one was sentenced ‘to have his arms and thighs broken with a sledge, and hang in chains, so was he executed without the north gate of Cork;’ the second was killed by an Irish kerne, and the third fell by an English hand when Spenser’s house at Kilcolman was sacked. Donnell MacCarthy saved himself by coming under [Pg 293] protection and behaving well for a time. ”

“ I burned to think such prize should fall To any Scotch or Saxon man, But find that Nature makes us all The children of one world-spread clan. "Within thy arms thou now dost hold A treasure of more worth and cost Than all the thrones and crowns of gold That valour ever won or lost; Thine is that outward perfect form, Thine, too, the subtler inner life, The love that doth that bright shape warm: Take back, MacJohn, thy peerless wife!" "They praised thy steed. With wrath and grief I felt my heart within me bleed, That any but an Irish chief Should press the back of such a steed ”

“ The pale grass lay with its long looks sere On the breast of the open plain; She loosened the matted hair of the slain, And cried, as she filled each juicy vein: "Awaken! for I am here." The rush rose up with its pointed spear The flag, with its falchion broad; The dock uplifted its shield unawed, As her voice rung over the quickening sod: "Awaken! for I am here." The red blood ran through the clover near, And the heath on the hills o'erhead; The daisy's fingers were tipp'd with red, As she started to life, when the lady said: "Awaken! ”

“ MC CARTHY, John F. (son of Michael Mc Carthy) . b. 1862; provision merchant at Tipperary; M.P. mid division of Tipperary 18 July 1892. d. Roscrea, Tipperary 8 Feb. 1893.
MACCARTHY, John George (son of John Maccarthy of Cork) . b. ”

“ MacCarthy was not the only Irish ecclesiastic of the reign who thought it necessary to petition for relief from the consequences of the dreaded statute. [393]
Catholicism restored. Bale refuses to give way.
Bale’s religious dramas.
In some places the old religion was restored without waiting for any formal order. As soon as Edward’s death was known Justice Howth and Lord Mountgarret, the Earl of Ormonde’s uncle, went to Kilkenny and desired to have the sacrament celebrated in honour of St. Anne. The priest said the Bishop had forbidden celebrations on week days ”

“ The very clouds have turned to light, And with the conquering beams unite! Thus o'er the face of John MacJohn A thousand varying shades have gone; Jealousy, anger, rage, disdain, Sweep o'er his brow--a dusky train; But nature, like the beam of spring, Chaseth the crowd on sunny wing; Joy warms his heart, hope lights his eye, And the dark passions routed fly! The hands are clasped--the hound is freed, Gone is MacJohn with wife and steed, He meets his spearsmen some few miles, And turns their scowling frowns to smiles: At morn the crowded march begins Of steeds and cattle for the glynnes ”

“ Three splendours there were shining, three passions intertwining, Despair and hope combining their deep-contrasted dyes, With jealousy's green lustre, as troubled ocean vies With the blue of summer skies! She was a fairy creature, of heavenly form and feature, Not Venus' self could teach her a newer, sweeter grace, Not Venus' self could lend her an eye so dark and tender, Half softness and half splendour, as lit her lily face ”

“ As their music is mirthful or mournful, his pulse beateth sluggish or fast, And his breast takes its hue, like the ocean, as the sunshine or shadows are cast. Thus adding new zest to enjoyment, and drawing the sharp sting from pain, The heart of the old man grew young, as it drank the sweet musical strain. Again at the altar he stands, with Francesca the fair at his side, As the bells ring a quick peal of gladness, to welcome some happy young bride. ”

“ Ah! little they know of true happiness, they whom satiety fills, Who, flung on the rich breast of luxury, eat of the rankness that kills. Ah! little they know of the blessedness toil-purchased slumber enjoys, Who, stretched on the hard rack of indolence, taste of the sleep that destroys, Nothing to hope for, or labour for; nothing to sigh for, or gain; Nothing to light in its vividness, lightning-like, bosom and brain; Nothing to break life's monotony, rippling it o'er with its breath: Nothing but dulness and lethargy, weariness, sorrow, and death! ”

“ Loud roars the bellows, and louder the flames as they shrieking escape, And loud is the song of the workmen who watch o'er the fast-filling shape; To and fro in the red-glaring chamber the proud master anxiously moves, And the quick and the skilful he praiseth, and the dull and the laggard reproves; And the heart in his bosom expandeth, as the thick bubbling metal up swells, For like to the birth of his children he watcheth the birth of the bells. ”

“ That glorious land stands higher o'er the sea, By twelve-fold fathom measure, than we deem The highest hills beneath the heavens to be. There the bower glitters, and the green woods gleam. All o'er that pleasant plain, calm and serene, The fruits ne'er fall, but, hung by God's own hand, Cling to the trees that stand for ever green, Obedient to their Maker's first command. Summer and winter are the woods the same, Hung with bright fruits and leaves that never fade; Such will they be, beyond the reach of flame, Till Heaven, and Earth, and Time, shall have decayed. ”

“ Francesca! sweet, innocent maiden! 'tis not that thy young cheek is fair, Or thy sun-lighted eyes glance like stars through the curls of thy wind-woven hair; 'Tis not for thy rich lips of coral, or even thy white breast of snow, That my song shall recall thee, Francesca! but more for the good heart below. Goodness is beauty's best portion, a dower that no time can reduce, A wand of enchantment and happiness, brightening and strengthening with use. One the long-sigh'd-for nectar that earthliness bitterly tinctures and taints: One the fading mirage of the fancy, and one the elysium it paints. ”

“ As the smith, in the dark, sullen smithy, striketh quick on the anvil below, Thus Fate on the heart of the old man struck rapidly blow after blow: Wife, children, and hope passed away from the heart once so burning and bold, As the bright shining sparks disappear when the red glowing metal grows cold. ”

“ It was not alone when that mother grew aged and feeble to hear, That thy voice like the whisper of angels still fell on the old woman's ear, Or even that thy face, when the darkness of time overshadowed her sight, Shone calm through the blank of her mind, like the moon in the midst of the night. ”

“ Now that Earth once more hath woken, and the trance of Time is broken, And the sweet word--Hope--is spoken, soft and sure, though none know how, Could we, could we only see all these, the glories of the Real, Blended with the lost Ideal, happy were the old world now-- Woman in its fond believing--man with iron arm and brow-- Faith and work its vow! Yes! the Past shines clear and pleasant, and there's glory in the Present; And the Future, like a crescent, lights the deepening sky of Time ”

“ And thus round the heart of the old man, at morning, at noon, and at eve, The bells, with their rich woof of music, the net-work of happiness weave, They ring in the clear, tranquil evening, and lo! all the air is alive, As the sweet-laden thoughts come, like bees, to abide in the heart as a hive. They blend with his moments of joy, as the odour doth blend with the flower-- They blend with his light-falling tears, as the sunshine doth blend with the shower. ”

“ Ere, clasping the hands of each other, they move through the stillness and noise, Dividing the cares of existence, but doubling its hopes and its joys. Sweet days of betrothment, which brighten so slowly to love's burning noon, Like the days of the spring which grow longer, the nearer the fulness of June, Though ye move to the noon and the summer of Love with a slow-moving wing, Ye are lit with the light of the morning, and decked with the blossoms of spring. ”

“ Toll, toll! with a rapid vibration, with a melody silv'ry and strong, The bells from the sound-shaken belfry are singing their first maiden song; Not now for the dead or the living, or the triumphs of peace or of strife, But a quick joyous outburst of jubilee full of their newly-felt life; Rapid, more rapid, the clapper rebounds from the round of the bells-- Far and more far through the valley the intertwined melody swells-- Quivering and broken the atmosphere trembles and twinkles around, Like the eyes and the hearts of the hearers that glisten and beat to the sound. ”

“ For beyond an artist's guessing, and beyond a bard's expressing, Is the face that truth is dressing with the feelings of the heart; Two worlds are there together--earth and heaven have each a part-- And of such, divinest Una, thou art! ”

“ He sprang after M'Carthy as he spoke, followed by his companion. The third man stepped a pace or two to the right, and levelling a long double-barrelled pistol, deliberately fired, when McCarthy's first pursuer fell; the second man, however, with that remarkable, quickness of wit which characterizes the Irish, in their outrages as well as in their pastimes, suddenly stooped, and taking the dreadful dagger out of the hands of the wounded man, continued the pursuit bounding after his foe with a spirit of vengeance and ferocity, now raised to the highest pitch. ”

“ Sir, we know that you are a poor man; and we love and honor you for your poverty, for we know that it is the price of your principle. Instead of being the governor of a great British province, or of sitting in high imperial office, with the title of Lord or Earl, as so many purchasable and weaker men have done, Justin McCarthy comes to America, with the simple title of his own genius,—and we recognize it as a prouder coronet than that conferred by king or kaiser. ”

“ Well, now, in considering this case there are two points about young McCarthy's narrative which struck us both instantly, although they impressed me in his favour and you against him. One was the fact that his father should, according to his account, cry 'Cooee!' before seeing him. The other was his singular dying reference to a rat. He mumbled several words, you understand, but that was all that caught the son's ear. Now from this double point our research must commence, and we will begin it by presuming that what the lad says is absolutely true. ”

“ Halfman shook his head reprovingly.
“Why, for my part, I should like to learn why in all this great gap of time nothing has been done to help one side or the other. If the gentry of Harby have made no effort to relieve us, neither, on the other hand, has our leaguer been augmented by any reinforcements. If my lady has been surprised that Sir Blaise Mickleton has made no show of coming to her succor, I, for my part, am woundily surprised that the Cropheads of Cambridge have sent no further levies for our undoing.” ”

“ Cathcart, Percy's mother, was expected in the evening. I had a long walk in the morning, and after that remained in my own room till dinner time. I confess I was prejudiced against her; and just because I was prejudiced, I resolved to do all I could to like her, especially as it was Christmas-tide. Not that one time is not as good as another for loving your neighbour, but if ever one is reminded of the duty, it is then. I schooled myself all I could, and went into the drawing-room like a boy trying to be good ”