We shall quote but one more poem of the witty Bishop's; and this we recommend to the serious attention of that learned body, The Provost and Fellows of Trinity College, Dublin, cock-a-hoop, as they must be, from the Royal visit. Indeed we know how much the slightest hint promulgated in these pages would influence them; and we feel particularly flattered by Dr Kyle's following our advice in discountenancing The Historical Society. The important piece we recommend, is entitled "A certain Poem, as it was presented in Latin by divines and others, before his Majesty in Cambridge, by way of interlude, styled Liber Novus de Adventu Regis ad Cantabrigiam, faithfully done into English, with some liberal additions." “It is not yet a fortnight since To trim the town, great care before One strike of March dust for to see, Their colleges were new be-painted,— You could not know (O strange mis- Whether you saw the town or map. But that the ways might all prove fair, Conceived a tedious mile of prayer. Upon the look'd-for seventh of March, Out went the townsmen all in starch, Both band and beard, into the field, Where one a speech could hardly wield; For needs he would begin his style, They gave the King a piece of plate, And so preferr'd with tune and gait, Next rode his lordship on a nag, See how, (quoth he,) most mighty For very joy my horse doth wince. What cries the town? what we? (said he,) And with the beams of your bright eye, Who, clad in gay and silken weeds, I wonder what your Grace doth here, Here's none, of all, your Grace refuses, Yet sure it was a goodly thing; My warning's short, no more I'll say, Soon you shall see a gallant play. But nothing was so much admired As were their plays so well attired; Nothing did win more praise of mine, Than did their acting most divine; So did they drink their healths divinely, So did they dance and skip so finely. Their plays had sundry grave wise factors, A perfect diocess of actors Upon the stage; for I am sure that There were both bishop, pastor, curate; Nor was their labour light or small, The charge of some was pastoral. Our plays were certainly much worse, For they had a brave hobby-horse, Which did present unto his grace, A wond'rous witty ambling pace. But we were chiefly spoil'd by that Which was six hours of, God knows what. But to conclude the King was pleased, The King is gone but to Newmarket, The King being gone from Trinity, Who all did throng to come aboard, They press'd his lordship wondrous hard, And cry'd, Hodiissimè Nor is this all which we do sing, Will spoil Joseph Barnesius To this Cantab felicitation we subjoin two effusions from Limerick and Cork, the harbingers of a joyous series, expressive of the loyal commotion which agitates the Green Isle. The poet flab- As I was sitting on the Shannon side, bergasted by anc strange apparition. Galloping by as quickly as he could ; I hail'd him, but he slacken'd not his pace, Until he past me, then he turn'd his face Back towards his horse's tail, and thus did say, "I ride express with news to strike you dumb, - "Our monarch has arrived at last--King George the Fourth is come!" Even to the vision of my outward eye, Like the thin shadowy figments of a dream; I felt, in short, as Wordsworth did, when he Chanced the leech gatherer on the moor all by himself to see. 3. By the exertion of judicious thought, At last I from this mental trance awoke, Upon my eyes so strange a vision broke ; Feel any way oppress'd in thought, it made me very dry. 4. When I arrived in brick-built George's Street, Then turning up my little finger strait, I gazed like Docter Brinkley on the sky, Whence heavenly thought I caught-pure and elate And, ere a moment its brief flight could wing, I threw the empty bottle down, to chaunt about the King. ODE. Which leaveth him in ane awkward doldrum, after the manner of W. Wordsworth, Esq. Shaketh it off, and marcheth homewards. Turneth stargazer. A very glorious day this is indeed! This is indeed a very glorious day! Our monarch has arrived at last-King George the Fourth has He calleth upon Ireland to rejoice in the fashion of a pot of portter. come! 2. Come down, ye mountains, bend your numbsculls low, Ye little hills run capering to the shore, Now on your marrow bones, all in a row, Inviteth the mountains to ane saraband. "Professor of Astronomy, in T. C. D. Maketh of them ane catalogue most musical. A word of advice to the rivers, in the style of Mas ter Edmund Spenser, late of Kilcolman. Howth is already at the water-side, Such is that loyal mountain's duteous haste; Come, I repeat, there's little time to waste; For now our monarch has arrived-King George the Fourth has come! 3. Down should dispatch Morne's snowy-vested peaks, Cork, the Galtees, studded with many a still, come! 4. Rivers, dear rivers, in meandring roll, A very neat Address from either Bull, Shall flow around in currents deep and full, "Our Monarch has arrived at last-King George the Fourth has come !" Anent lakes. Killarney sulkily remains behind, 5. Thinking the King should come to wait on her; But all the other loughs, where'er they be, Or Googaun-Barra,tt when the Lee doth take • Which being interpreted, signifies, the hill of the fairy calf; there is many a story about it. + Vinegar Hill, where a decisive battle was fought in 1798, with the rebels, who were totally defeated. Croagh-Patrick, in Mayo. § Spenser, who dwelt beneath old father Mole, (Mole hight that mountain gray That walls the north side of Armulla vale.) Collin Clout's come home again. He has catalogued our rivers in the Fairy Queen, B. 4. Cant. 2. St. 40-44. In Dublin Bay are two sand banks, called the North and South Bulls. Not far from them is a village called Ring's-End, which gives occasion to the facete to say, that you enter Dublin between two bulls and a blunder. Something Homeric απερὶ δὲ ξόος Ωκεανίο Αφρῷ μορμύρων ῥέεν.—Κ. Σ. ** Est aliud stagnum quod facit ligna dunrescere in lapides; homines autem findunt ligna, et postquam formaverunt in eo usque ad caput anni, et in capite anni lapis invenitur, et vocatur Loch-Each, ac (Lough Neagh.) See Mirab. Hib. ++ i. e. The hermitage of St Finbar, who lived there as a recluse. He was first Bishop of Cork. It is a most beautiful and romantic lake, containing a pretty island. It is a great place of pilgrimage. Its lovely course, join in the general hum- "Our monarch has arrived at last-King George the Fourth has come!" 6. O ye blest bogs,* true sons of Irish soil, From Geashil barony, with might and main, In turfy thunders, shouting as they roam, "Our Sovereign has arrived at last-King George the Fourth has come!" 'Twould be a pity, if a single stamp Smash'd bright Belfast-sweet linen-vending town.) Why have you travelled from your sea-beat dome? "Because our monarch has arrived-King George the Fourth has come !" 8. Last slopes in, sailing from the extremest south, Certain am I, that when she opes her mouth, So North, and South, and East, and West combine, + Ulster, and Connaught, Leinster, Munster, Meath, To hail the King, who, first of all his line, Was ever seen old Ireland's sky beneath. All shall exclaim, for none shall there be mum, "Our monarch has arrived at last-King George the Fourth has come!" L'ENVOY. 1. How living people joy, I shall not tell, Else I should make my song a mile in length; Chaunting their lays with pertinacious strength: Of sharks and lawyers-asses and Lord Mayors— In short, of every living thing, all in their own degrees. VOL. X. Every body has heard of the movements of the Irish bogs. + The five ancient kingdoms of Ireland. N Lealty of the bogs. Ane caution to the Giant's Causeway not to tread upon the learned weavers of Belfast. Shewing how lius. Mocke com mendation on various folk. |