That many of these airs possess great beauty and pathos, no one can doubt who is acquainted with the selections that have been made by Mr Moore; but as a genus or a style, they also exhibit the most unequivocal proofs of a rude and barbarous origin; and there is scarcely a more striking instance of the proneness of mankind to exalt the supposed wisdom of their ancestors, and to lend a ready ear to the marvellous, than the exaggerated praise which the authors of this music have obtained.

It is natural to suppose that in music, as in all other arts, the progress of savage man was gradual; that there is no more reason for supposing he should have discovered at once the seven notes of the scale, than that he should have been able at once to find appropriate language for all the nice distinctions of morals or metaphysics. We shall now pass to some interesting accounts of the Bards of the olden time, which come within the scope of our subject when speaking of the present Bard of Erin, and his « Irish Melodies.

Dr Burney observes, that the first Greek musicians were gods; the second, heroes; the third, bards; the fourth, beggars!» During the infancy of music in every country, the wonder and affections of the people were gained by surprise; but when musicians became numerous, and the art was regarded of easier acquirement, they lost their favour, and, from being seated at the tables of kings, and helped to the first cut, they were reduced to the most abject state, and ranked amongst rogues and vagabonds. That this was the cause of the supposed retrogradation of Irish music, we shall now proceed to show, by some curious extracts from contemporary writers.

so highly as Polydore Virgil and Major, in the 15th, Clynn, in the middle of the 14th, or Fordun, in the 13th. As we recede yet further, we find Giraldus Cambrensis, G. Brompton, and John of Salisbury, in the 12th century, bestowing still more lofty encomiums; and these, again, falling short of the science among us in the 11th and 10th centuries. In conformity with this, Fuller, in his account of the Crusade conducted by Godfrey of Bologne, says, Yea, we might well think that all the concert of Christendom in this war would have made no music, if the Irish Harp had been wanting.

In those early times the Irish bards were invested with wealth, honours, and influence. They wore a robe of the same colour as that used by kings; were exempted from taxes and plunder, and were billeted on the country from Allhallow-tide to May, while every chief bard had thirty of inferior note under his orders, and every second-rate bard fifteen.

John of Salisbury, in the 12th century, says, that the great aristocrats of his day imitated Nero in their extravagant love of fiddling and singing; that they prostituted their favour by bestowing it on minstrels and buffoons; and that, by a certain foolish and shameful munificence, they expended immense sums of money on their frivolous exhibitions. The courts of princes," says another contemporary writer, « are filled with crowds of minstrels, who extort from them gold, silver, horses, and vestments, by their flattering songs. I have known some princes who have bestowed on these minstrels of the Devil, at the very first word, the most curious garments, beautifully embroidered with flowers and pictures, which had cost them twenty or thirty marks of silver, and which they had not worn above seven days!»

The Bards, the earliest professors of whom we have not any account, having united to their capacity of musicians the function of priests, could not fail to obtain for themselves, in an age From the foregoing account, by Salisbury of ignorance and credulity, all the influence and John, the twelfth century must, verily, have been respect which that useful and deserving class of the true golden age for the sons of the lyre; who men have never failed to retain, even among nawere then, it seems, clothed in purple and fine tions who esteem themselves the most enlight-linen, and fared sumptuously every day. It is ened. But the remotest period in which their true, they were flatterers and parasites, and did character of musician was disengaged from that « dirty work » for it in those days; but, at any of priest is also the period assigned to the high-rate, princes were then more generous to their est triumph of their secular musical skill and re- poet-laureates, and the sackbut and the song spectability. . It is certain, says Mr Bunting were better paid for than in a simple butt of (in his Historical and Critical Dissertation on the sack. Harp), that the further we explore, while yet any According to Stowe, the minstrel had still a light remains, the more highly is Irish border min-ready admission into the presence of kings in the strelsy extolled.»

■ The oldest Irish tunes (says the same writer) are said to be the most perfect,» and history accords with this opinion. Vin. Galilei, Bacon, Stanishurst, Spenser, and Camden, in the 16th century, speak warmly of Irish version, but not

4th century. Speaking of the celebration of the feast of Pentecost at Westminster, he says, « In the great hall, when sitting royally at the table, with his peers about him, there entered a woman adorned like a minstrel, sitting on a great horse, trapped as minstrels then used, who rode about

the table showing pastime, and at length came lant gentleman of the north of Ireland has told up to the king's table, and laid before him a let-me, of his own experience, that in his wolf-huntter, and, forthwith turning her horse, saluted every one and departed: when the letter was read, it was found to contain animadversions on the king. The door-keeper, being threatened for admitting her, replied, that it was not the custom of the king's palace to deny admission to minstrels, especially on such high solemnities and feast-days."

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ings there, when, he used to be abroad in the mountains three or four days together, and lay very ill a-nights, so as he could not well sleep, they would bring him one of these tale-tellers, that when he lay down would begin a story of a king, a giant, a dwarf, or a damsel, and such rambling stuff, and continue it all night long in such an even tone, that you heard it going on whenever you awaked, and believed nothing any physicians give could have so good and so innocent an effect to make men sleep, in any pains or distempers of body or mind.»

In Froissart, too, we may plainly see what necessary appendages to greatness the minstrels were esteemed, and upon what familiar terms they lived with their masters. When the four Irish kings, who had submitted themselves to In the reign of Elizabeth, however, civilization Richard II. of England, were sat at table, «on had so far advanced, that the music which had the first dish being served they made their min- led away the great lords of antiquity no longer strels and principal servants sit beside them, and availed to delude the human understanding, or eat from their plates, and drink from their to prevent it from animadverting on the perniThe knight appointed by Richard to at- cious effects produced by those who cultivated tend them having objected to this custom, on the tuneful art. Spenser, in his view of the state another day ordered the tables to be laid out of Ireland, says, There is amongst the Irish a and covered, so that the kings sat at an upper certain kind of people called Bardes, which are table, the minstrels at a middle one, and the ser- to them instead of poets, whose profession is to vants lower still. The royal guests looked at set forth the praises or dispraises of men in their each other, and refused to eat, saying, that he poems or rithmes; the which are had in so high deprived them of their good old custom in which regard and estimation among them, that none they had been brought up." dare displease them, for fear to run into reproach through their offence, and to be made infamous in the mouths of all men. For their verses are taken up with a general applause, and usually sung at all feasts and meetings by certain other persons whose proper function that is, who also receive for the same great rewards and reputation amongst them. These Irish Bardes are, for the most part, so far from instructing young men in moral discipline, that themselves do more deWhen war and hunting formed almost the ex- serve to be sharply disciplined; for they seldom clusive occupation of the great; when their sur- use to choose unto themselves the doings of good plus revenues could only be employed in sup- men for the arguments of their poems; but whomporting idle retainers, and no better means could soever they find to be most licentious of life, most be devised for passing the long winter evenings bold and lawless in his doings, most dangerous than drunkenness and gambling, it may readily and desperate in all parts of disobedience and be conceived how welcome these itinerant musi- rebellious disposition: him they set up and glocians must have been in baronial halls, and how rifie in their rithmes; him they praise to the peoit must have flattered the pride of our noble an-ple, and to young men make an example to folcestors to listen to the eulogy of their own The moralizing poet then continues to achievements, and the length of their own pedi

However, in the reign of Edward II., a public edict was issued, putting a check upon this license, and limiting the number of minstrels to four per diem admissible to the tables of the great. It seems, too, that about this period the minstrels had sunk into a kind of upper servants of the aristocracy: they wore their lord's livery, and sometimes shaved the crown of their heads like monks.

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show the effect of evil things being decked with the attire of goodly words," on the affections of a young mind, which, as he observes, « cannot rest; for, «< if he be not busied in some goodness, he will find himself such business as shall soon busy all about him. In which, if he shall find any to praise him, and to give him encouragement, as those Bardes do for little reward, or a share of a stolen cow, then waxeth he most insolent, and half mad with the love of himself and

Sir William Temple says, the great men of the Irish septs, among the many officers of their family, which continued always in the same races, had not only a physician, a huntsman, a smith, and such like, but a poet and a tale-teller. The first recorded and sung the actions of their ancestors, and entertained the company at feasts; the latter amused them with tales when they were melancholy and could not sleep; and a very gal-his own lewd deeds. And as for words to set

We have gone into the above details, not ouly because they are in themselves interesting and illustrative of the Irish Melodies,» but because we fully coincide with the bard of Childe Harold, that the lasting celebrity of Moore will be found in his lyrical compositions, with which his name and fame will be inseparably and immortally connected.

forth such lewdness, it is not hard for them to attempted to fashion them according to the mogive a goodly and painted show thereunto, bor-del of the modern music; and these acts are conrowed even from the praises which are proper to sidered in the country as capital improvements. virtue itself; as of a most notorious thief and wicked outlaw, which had lived all his life-time of spoils and robberies, one of their bardes in his praise will say, that he was none of the idle milksops that was brought up to the fire-side; but that most of his days he spent in arms and valiant enterprises-that he did never eat his meat before he had won it with his sword; that he lay not all night in slugging in a cabin under his mantle, but used commonly to keep others waking to defend their lives; and did light his candle at the flames of their houses to lead him in the darkness; that the day was his night, and the night his day; that he loved not to be long wooing of wenches to yield to him, but, where he came, he took by force the spoil of other men's love, and left but lamentation to their lovers; that his music was not the harp, nor the lays of love, but the cries of people and the clashing of armour; and, finally, that he died, not bewailed, of many, but made many wail when he died, that dearly bought bis death.»

It little occurred to Spenser that, in thus reprobating these poor bards, he was giving an admirable analysis of the machinery and effects of almost all that poets have ever done!

In 1563 severe enactments were issued against these gentlemen, to which was annexed the following- Item, for that those rhymers do, by their ditties and rhymes, made to dyvers lordes and Gentlemen in Ireland, in the commendacion and highe praise of extorsion, rebellion, rape, raven, and outhere injustice, encourage those lordes and gentlemen rather to follow those vices than to leve them, and for making of such rhymes, rewards are given by the said lordes and gentlemen; that for abohishinge of soo heynouse an abuse,» etc., etc.

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The feudal system, which encouraged the etical state of manners, and afforded the minstrels worthy subjects for their strains, received a severe blow from the policy pursued by Elizabeth. This was followed up by Cromwell, and consummated by King William, of Orange memory.

More recently a Scotch writer observes, " In Ireland the harpers, the original composers, and the chief depositories of that music, have, till lately, been uniformly cherished and supported by the nobility and gentry. They endeavoured to outdo one another in playing the airs that were most esteemed, with correctness, and with their proper expression. The taste for that style of performance seems now, however, to be declining. The native harpers are not much encouraged. A number of their airs have come into the hands of foreign musicians, who have

Mr Moore possesses a singular facility of seizing and expressing the prevailing association which a given air is calculated to inspire in the minds of the greatest number of hearers, and has a very felicitous talent in making this discovery, even through the envelopes of prejudice or vulgarity. The alchemy by which he is thus accustomed to turn dross into gold is really surprising. The air which now seems framed for the sole purpose of giving the highest effect to the refined and elegant ideas contained in the stanzas Sing, sing-music was given, has for years been known only as attached to the words of, «Oh! whack! Judy O'Flanagan, etc., and the words usually sung to the tune of Cumilum are of the same low and ludicrous description. He possesses, also, in a high degree, that remarkable gift of a poetical imagination, which consists in elevating and dignifying the meanest subjects on which it chuses to expatiate:

As they, who to their couch at night

Would welcome sleep, first quench the light,
So must the hopes that keep this breast
Awake, be quench'd, ere it can rest.
Cold, cold my heart must grow,
Unchanged by either joy or woe,

Like freezing founts, where all that's thrown
Within their current turns to stone.

The ingenuity with which the above simile is applied, is not more remarkable than the success bed-candle before we sleep, is divested of every with which the homely image of putting out the particle of vulgarity.

In the same way, and with equal facility, the sudden revival of forgotten feelings, at meeting rated, is compared to the discovering, by the with friends from whom we have been long sepaapplication of heat, letters written invisibly with sympathetic ink:

What soften'd remembrances come o'er the heart
In gazing on those we 've been lost to so long!
The sorrows, the jovs, of which once they were part,
Still round them, like visions of yesterday, throng.
As letters some hand hath invisibly traced,
When held to the flame will steal out to the sight,
So many a feeling that long seem'd effaced,
The warmth of a meeting like this brings to light.

Rich and Rare, taken music, words and all, ens assembled on the green, and agreed to cele

is worth an epic poem to the Irish nation,-sim-brate the arrival of their poet with a dance; they

ple, tender, elegant, sublime, it is the very essence of poetry and music;-there is not one simile or conceit, nor one idle crotchet to be met with throughout.

fixed upon the air he was to play for them; it was the merriest of his collection; the ring was formed; all looked eagerly to the quarter from which he was to arrive, determined to greet their favourite bard with a cheer. But they were checked the instant he appeared; he came slowly, and languidly, and loiteringly along; his countenance had a cold, dim, and careless aspect, very different from that expressive cheerfulness which marked his features, even in his more melancholy moments; his harp was swinging heavily upon his arm; it seemed a burthen to him; it was much shattered, and some of the strings were broken. He looked at us for a few moments, then, relapsing into vacancy, advanced without quickening his pace, to his accustomed stone, and sate down in silence. After a pause, we ventured to ask him for his friends; -he first looked up sharp in our faces, next down upon his harp; then struck a few notes of a wild and desponding melody, which we had never heard before; but his hand dropped, and he did not finish it.

The musical as well as the poetical taste of the author is evident in every line, nor is one allowed to shine at the expense of the other. Moore has composed some beautiful airs, but seems shy of exercising this faculty, dreading, perhaps, that success in that pursuit would detract from his poetical fame. The union of these talents is rare, and some have affirmed that they even exclude one another. When Gretry visited Voltaire at Ferney, the philosopher paid him a compliment at the expense of his profession: « Vous êtes musicien," said Voltaire, « et vous avez de l'esprit cela est trop rare pour que je ne prenne pas à vous le plus vif intérêt.» Nature certainly may be supposed not over-inclined to be prodigal in bestowing on the same object the several gifts that are peculiarly hers; but, as far as the assertion rests on experience, it powerfully contradicted by the names of Moore and Again we paused:-then knowing well that, if

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we could give the smallest mirthful impulse to his feelings, his whole soul would soon follow, we asked him for the merry air we had chosen. We were surprised at the readiness with which he seemed to comply; but it was the same wild and heart-breaking strain he had commenced.

The late Mr Charles Wolfe, having both a literary and a musical turn, occasionally employed himself in adapting words to national melodies, and in writing characteristic introductions to popular songs. Being fond of «The Last Rose of Summer» (Irish MEL. NO V), he composed the fol-In fact, we found that the soul of the minstrel lowing tale for its illustration:

had become an entire void, except one solitary This is the grave of Dermid: -He was the best ray that vibrated sluggishly through its very minstrel among us all,-a youth of romantic ge- darkest part; it was like the sea in a dark calın, nius, and of the most tremulons, and yet the most which you only know to be in motion by the impetuous feeling. He knew all our old nation-panting which you hear. He had totally foral airs, of every character and description: ac-gotten every trace of his former strains, not only cording as his song was in a lofty or a mournful those that were more gay and airy, but even strain, the village represented a camp or funeral; | those of a more pensive cast; and he had gotten but if Dermid were in his merry mood, the lads in their stead that one dreary simple melody ; and lasses hurried into a dance, with a giddy and it was about a Lonely Rose, that had outlived all irresistible gaiety. One day our chieftain com- its companions; this he continued singing and mitted a cruel and wanton outrage against one playing from day to day, until he spread an unof our peaceful villagers. Dermid's harp was in jusual gloom over the whole village: he seemed his hand when he heard it :--with all the thought-to perceive it, for he retired to the church-yard, lessness and independent sensibility of a poet's and continued repairing thither to sing it to the indignation, he struck the chords that never day of his death. The afflicted constantly re- | spoke without response, and the detestation be- sorted there to hear it, and he died singing it came universal. He was driven from amongst to a maid who had lost her lover. The orphans us by our enraged chief; and all his relations, and have learnt it, and still chaunt it over Dermid's the maid he loved, attended the minstrel into the grave." wide world. For three years there were no tid- The Fudge Family in Paris is a most humoings of Dermid; and the song and the dance were rous work, written partly in the style of « The silent; when one of our little boys came running Twopenny-Post Bag.» These poetical epistles rein, and told us that he saw our minstrel ap-mind many persons of the Bath Guide, but a comproaching at a distance. Instantly the whole parison can hardly be supported; the plan of Mr village was in commotion; the youths and maid-Moore's work being less extensive, and the sub

Though these two celebrated writers in some measure divided the poetical public between them, yet it was not the same public whose favour they severally enjoyed in the highest degree. Though both read and admired in the same extended circle of taste and fashion, each was the favourite of a totally different set of readers. Thus a lover may pay the same attention to two different women; but he only means to flirt with the one, while the other is the mistress of his heart. The gay, the fair, the witty, the happy, idolize Mr Moore's delightful muse, on her pedestal of airy smiles or transient tears. Lord Byron's severer verse is enshrined in the breasts of those whose gaiety

has been turned to gall, whose fair exterior has a canker within-whose mirth has received a re-. buke as if it were folly, from whom happiness has fled like a dream! By comparing the odds upon | the known chances of human life, it is no wonder

that the admirers of his lordship's works should be more numerous than those of his more agreeable rival. We are not going to speak of any preference we may have, but we beg leave to make a distinction. The poetry of Moore is essentially that! of fancy, the poetry of Byron that of passion. If there is passion in the effusions of the one, the fan-able with two peculiarities: first, the pleasure or cy by which it is expressed predominates over it; if fancy is called to the aid of the other, it is still subservient to the passion. Lord Byron's jests are downright earnest; Mr Moore, when he is