King Henry's sword on council-board, the Eng- By Desmond swept with sword and fire,-by clan and keep laid low,— lish thanes among, Ye never ceased to battle brave against the Eng- By Silken Thomas and his kin, - by sainted Edward! No! lish sway, Though axe and brand and treachery your proudest The forms of centuries rise up, and in the Irish cut away. line Of Desmond's blood, through woman's veins passed COMMAND THEIR SON TO TAKE THE POST THAT FITS 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? True Geraldines! brave Geraldines!-as torrents mould the earth, You channelled deep old Ireland's heart by constancy and worth: When Ginckle '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 Cuir reach's1 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! 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 hon oured 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." 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 martyr's blood? Or has that grown a purling brook, which long rushed down a flood? silken banners his followers carried; a son of Gerald, Earl of Kildare, he was executed at Tyburn for rebellion, 1535. 1 Currach. THE GERALDINE! MAIRE BHAN A STOIR. In a valley, far away, With my Máire bhán a stóir,2 Short would be the summer day, Ever loving more and more; Winter days would all grow long, With the light her heart would pour, Fond is Máire bhán a stóir, Oh! her sire is very proud, And her mother cold as stone; But her brother bravely vowed She should be my bride alone; For he knew I loved her well, And he knew she loved me too, True is Máire bhán a stóir, There are lands where manly toil Surely reaps the crop it sows, Glorious woods and teeming soil, Where the broad Missouri flows; Through the trees the smoke shall rise, From our hearth with maith go leor, Mild is Máire bhán a stóir, The ladies that ride in a carriage And tender and loving and true, Than the squires of the county could do. His hair is a shower of soft gold, And freely 'twas given to me; Then, Oh! the marriage, &c. His kinsmen are honest and kind, The neighbours think much of his skill, And Eoghan's the lad to my mind, Though he owns neither castle nor mill. But he has a tilloch of land, A horse, and a stocking of coin, A foot for the dance, and a hand In the cause of his country to join. We meet in the market and fair- And my people are wild with delight. And he will be married to me. TIPPERARY. Let Britain boast her British hosts, Tall is his form, his heart is warm, Lead him to fight for native land, His is no courage cold and wary; The troops live not on earth would stand The headlong Charge of Tipperary! Yet meet him in his cabin rude, Or dancing with his dark-haired Mary, You'd swear they knew no other mood But Mirth and Love in Tipperary! You're free to share his scanty meal, His plighted word he'll never varyIn vain they tried with gold and steel To shake the Faith of Tipperary! Soft is his cailin's sunny eye, Her mien is mild, her step is airy, Her heart is fond, her soul is highOh! she's the Pride of Tipperary! Let Britain brag her motley rag; We'll lift the Green more proud and airy; Be mine the lot to bear that flag, And head the Men of Tipperary! Though Britain boasts her British hosts, About them all right little care weGive us, to guard our native coasts, The Matchless Men of Tipperary! A NATION ONCE AGAIN. And, from that time, through wildest woe, It seemed to watch above my head Its angel voice sang round my bed, It whispered, too, that "freedom's ark And passions vain or lowly: For freedom comes from God's right hand, And righteous men must make our land So, as I grew from boy to man, I bent me to that biddingMy spirit of each selfish plan And cruel passion ridding; 1 The Three Hundred Greeks who died at Thermopyla, and the Three Romans who kept the Sublician Bridge. — Davis. Oh! for a steed, a rushing steed, when Brian smote down the Dane; And a train of spirits seemed passing me by, Or a place beside great Aodh O'Neill, when Bagenal I looked for a cabin, yet none could I spy [Thomas Colley Grattan was the son of John | and in due time Thomas was sent to the school Grattan, M.D., and was born in Dublin in 1795. Shortly after his birth his father left Dublin, and retired to Clayton Lodge, county Kildare, a property which he had inherited. The future author was only three years old when Clayton Lodge was burned down by the rebels, in 1798, after having been repeatedly attacked and successfully defended by its owner and his servants. The family fled to the little town of Athy, settled down there, of the Rev. Henry Bristow. Here he made fair progress in the usual branches of education, while the wild scenery by which the school-room was surrounded had its due effect upon his imagination, and assisted in the development of that genius which he inherited in common with his illustrious relatives, Henry Grattan and the Duke of Wellington. In writing of this period of his life he tells us that, while traversing the Bog of Allen, "the friendship of Tom Moore and Washington Irving. Through the advice of the latter he was induced to write some of his experiences in travelling, and High-ways and By-ways, or Tales by the Road-side, was produced, and offered to and rejected by four London publishers in succession. Grattan then flung the work aside as worthless. Subsequently a friend happened to see the MS., declared it well worthy of publication, and introduced the author to Mr. Whittaker, who accepted and published it. Its success was great. Grattan next attempted dramatic literature, and produced the tragedy of Ben Nazir the Saracen. The principal character was to have been represented by Edmund Kean, but the great actor, being in weak health at the time, was unable to do justice to the part, and failure resulted. A portion of the press were very severe on the author, and in vindication he printed the play; but he felt the failure, and renounced dramatic composition for many years. His next work, Traits of Travel, appeared in 1829, followed in 1830 by The Heiress of Bruges, a Tale of the Year Sixteen Hundred. These were both well received. His History of the Netherlands, which, up to the appearance of Mr. Motley's volumes, might be considered the standard work, formed one of the historical series of Lardner's Cyclopædia (published in 1830). whistling of the wind across its brown bleak | Brun. Here, too, he met and gained the breast, and the shrill cries of the curlew that sprung from its heather into the skies, were the first sounds that impressed themselves on my recollection; the blackened ruins of CastleCarbery rising far upon its skirts were the earliest objects on which my memory seemed to have reposed; and its fragrant wild flowers and mossy banks had been many a time my pillow in the dreamless sleep of infancy." When his school-days were over, Grattan's father sent him to the house of a friend in Dublin who was an attorney, that he might study law; but the boy soon declared his distaste to the profession, and his ardent desire to become a soldier. The father met this wish half-way by procuring him a commission in a militia regiment; but the lad, desiring more active service, expressed a wish to volunteer into the line. His friends opposed this idea for a time, as one of his brothers had been shot dead, and another severely wounded, in the Peninsular war. When he at length gained their consent he left England to join the army, but the opportunity had passed and the great war had come to an end in the battle of Waterloo. Some months subsequently his father died, and his love for soldiering still remaining active, he embarked on board a ship bound for Bordeaux, with the intention of sailing from thence to join the South Americans in their war against the Spanish yoke. Again his design was frustrated. On board the vessel was a young lady named O'Donnel, who with her family had left Ireland to reside in France. They were introduced, became mutually attached, and young Grattan, leaving the Americans to fight for themselves, got married, and settled down in the south of France. He now adopted literature as a profession. At that period Scott had made poetical romances the literary fashion, and Colley Grattan accordingly tried his hand at a production of this character. The result was Philibert, a poem in six cantos, which he published in 1819. Although the poem ran through two editions, the author, not satisfied with his work, purchased the remaining copies and committed them to the flames. With the idea of improving his fortune and widening his literary acquaintance he removed to Paris, and soon became foreign contributor to The Westminster and Edinburgh Reviews, and The New Monthly Magazine. His abilities were widely recognized, and he became acquainted with many French celebrities of the day, notably Béranger, Lamartine, and Le In consequence of the revolutionary disturbances which took place in France during the year 1830 Grattan fled with his family to Brussels. The insurrectionary flame, however, as is known, soon spread to Belgium, and Grattan's house was almost destroyed by cannon and grape shot during the attack on Brussels, and what remained of his property was pillaged by the Dutch troops. Again with his family he sought safety in flight, and settled in Antwerp, where he wrote his History of Switzerland, and Men and Cities, or Tales of Travel. From Antwerp Grattan proceeded with the Prince of Orange to the Hague, where he wrote Jacqueline of Holland, The Master Passion and Other Tales, and a Chance Medley of Light Matter. The great educational and economical advantages of the famous town of Heidelberg attracted the wandering feet of our author, and in the May of 1832 we find him settled in the sunny valley of the Neckar, within a league of the town. Here he wrote his most popular and successful work, The Legends of the Rhine. In this book he portrays with a master haud |