LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 
 
 ftr^ws'-z. 
 
 Shelf .....(£i/.5 
 
 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 
 
 ,>ilt7 
 
11 
 
 MOOM'S AMIYERSARY: 
 
 % ^lnsical ^Ilcgorn. 
 
 For the use of Catholic Schools and Irlsh 
 Societies. 
 
 KATHARINE A. O'KEEFFE. 
 
 boston : 
 PUBLISHED BY THOMAS B. NOONAN & CO. 
 
 17, 19 and 21 Boylston Street. 
 
f\\ 
 
 
 Copyright, 1887, 
 Bv KATHA.RINE A. O'KEEFFE. 
 
 TRIXTED by CASH3IAN, KEATING & CO., 
 
 597 Washington St., Boston. 
 
No literary or poetic merit is claimed for the 
 original portions of this little allegory. The author 
 has attempted nothing more than the preparation of 
 a few simple links with which to bind together some 
 of the best-known gems from Moore's melodies. 
 
 It has already, on occasions of Moore's birthday, 
 May 28, served — in connection with an address on 
 Thomas Moore, or on the Music and Poetry of Ireland 
 — for an evening's entertainment, thereby assisting 
 several worth}^ objects. That it may be again helpful 
 in some such way is the design of its present publi- 
 cation. K. A. O'K. 
 
CJHARACTERS. 
 
 CoLUaiBIA. 
 
 Leinster. 
 Ulster. 
 
 MUNSTER. 
 CONNAUGHT. 
 
 Dublin (Moore's Birthplace). 
 Kerry (Birthplace of Moore's father). 
 WiCKLow (Birthplace of Moore's mother). 
 WEXFOiJD(Coinmeiiioratiug the Wexford massacre). 
 Belfast Minstrel. 
 
 The Twenty-eight other Countiks of Ireland. 
 Love, 
 
 Valoi:. 
 
 Wit. 
 
PROLOGUE 
 
 TO THE ''MOORE'S ANNIVERSARY." 
 
 Give glad, triumphant greeting, sing his own most 
 
 joyful lay. 
 And make Moore's anniversary a gleeful gala-day ; 
 For, with the budding roses, in the summer's ojiening 
 
 glow, 
 He came, old Erin's noble bard, one hundred * years 
 
 ago. 
 
 Yes, weave for l)im bright chaplets pure, of glory and 
 
 of fame. 
 With fairest, sweetest flowers now enwreathe the 
 
 poet's name ; 
 And wake his country's harp once more, until both 
 
 earth and sk}' 
 Ring with the wild, melodious strains of Irish minstrelsy. 
 
 For when that charming harp was mute, and Erin's 
 
 spirit low. 
 When gloom of death o'ershadowed her, and hatred 
 
 armed her foe, 
 
 *Can be changed to suit time. 
 5 
 
Her Bard then broke the silence that had chained iier 
 
 spirit long, 
 And proudly "gave her golden chords to freedom, 
 
 light, and song." 
 
 He bids his land remember well her glorious days of 
 
 yore ; 
 He tells her that her shaded star shall brightly beam 
 
 once more ; 
 He sings a song of sad, sweet love, at which the world 
 
 still weeps, 
 And, as he said, our tears "keep green" the grave 
 
 where Emmet sleeps. 
 
 O'Ruark's tale he sadly tells, and weeps fur Erin's 
 
 shame, 
 But soon he calls her to be proud of Wellington's 
 
 great name ; 
 And then, with retrospective glance, he looks back at 
 
 the Danes, 
 And says, " 'Tis sweeter far to die than live one hour 
 
 in chains." 
 
 In silence deep, a death song chants at noble Grattan's 
 grave. 
 
 And sighs for "Vanquished Erin" at the Boyne's ill- 
 fated wave ; 
 
But, should she be disconsolate, he thrills her heart 
 
 with joy 
 By telliDg her the noble deeds of her brave "Minstrel 
 
 Boy." 
 
 With glowing Eastern beauties, oft through Cashmere's 
 
 vale he roves ; 
 Then, soaring above mortals far, he sings the " Angels' 
 
 Loves ' ' ; 
 But tells his faithful Irish wife her "smile turns all to 
 
 light"; 
 He dreads no gloom while she is near with eye so true 
 
 and bright. 
 
 "Oft in the stilly night" he brings us back "Love's 
 
 bright 3'Oung dream " ; 
 At morn he sings of lovely vales, and of Avoca's 
 
 stream ; 
 He leads us to the Peri fair that wept at Heaven's 
 
 gate; 
 Anon, he sweetly pleads the cause of roses that bloom 
 
 late. 
 
 Then, rising on the "Muse's wing, whose theme is in 
 
 the skies," 
 He bids us "Sound the timbrel loud," and calls, 
 
 " Awake ! and rise " ; 
 
8 
 
 He shows us '' Sinful Mary's tears," the sad he asks 
 
 to kneel, 
 And tells them '^ Earth no sorrow has which Heaven 
 
 cannot heal." 
 
 Now while the world doth gladly sing these songs so 
 
 sweet and pure, 
 Ohl Erin's sons are justly proud of their loved poet 
 
 Moore ; 
 Wherever they have found a home, they raise to him a 
 
 shrine, -' 
 
 And round it Erin's '-chosen leaf" with loving hands 
 
 they twine. 
 
 Like all the rest we've gathered here to sing our poet's 
 
 lays, — 
 To strew our flowers before him, and to listen to his 
 
 praise ; 
 To bring the days of glory back, eie yet the "Emerald 
 
 gem " 
 Illumed with purest, richest rays the stranger's diadem. 
 
 America's sweet mayflower we will with the shamrock 
 
 twine, 
 And Erin and Columbia shall wreathe them round his 
 
 shrine ; 
 While Erin's tears are falling, from Columbia bright 
 
 shall flow 
 Fair Freedom's light transforming them into Hope's 
 
 radiant bow. 
 
Oh I may the blissful promises that shine about the 
 
 twain, 
 Meet rich fulfilment ere the world greet this glad day 
 
 again ; 
 And may Moore's countrymen be free to crown their 
 
 poet's brow, 
 In Ireland, as in this free land, in just one year from 
 
 now. 
 
 ( Before curtain rises on Erin, all sing behind the scenes, 
 ''The Harp that once through TarcCs Hall.'') 
 
 The harp that once through Tara's hall 
 
 The soul of music shed, 
 Now hangs as mute on Tara's wall 
 
 As if that soul were fled. 
 So sleeps the pride of former days, 
 
 So glory's thrill is o'er. 
 And hearts that once beat high for praise. 
 
 Now feel that pulse no more. 
 
 Xo more to chiefs and ladies bright 
 
 The harp of Tara swells ; 
 The chord alone, that breaks at night, 
 
 Its tale of ruin tells. 
 Thus Freedom now so seldom wakes, 
 
 The onl}^ throb she gives 
 Is when some heart indignant breaks, 
 
 To show that still she lives. 
 
MOOEE'S ANNIVEESAEY, 
 
 (Celtic cross on one side of stage, harp on the other.) 
 Erin. {Advaz/cifig toivards harp.) 
 
 '' Dear Imrp of my country ! in darkness he * found 
 thee, 
 
 The cold chain of silence had hung o'er thee long, 
 When proudly, my own island harp, he unbound thee. 
 
 And gave all thy chords to light, freedom, and song ! 
 The warm lay of love and the light note of gladness 
 
 Have wakened thy fondest, thy liveliest thrill ; 
 But so oft hast thou echoed the deep sigh of sadness. 
 
 That even in thy mirth it will steal from thee still. 
 
 '' Dear harp of my country ! farewell to thy numbers, 
 
 This sweet wreath of song is the last we shall twine ; 
 Go, sleep with the sunshine of Fame on thy slumbers. 
 
 Till touched by some hand less unworthy than mine ; 
 If the pulse of the patriot, soldier, or lover 
 
 Have throbbed at our lay, 'tis Moore's glory alone ; 
 We were but as tlie wind, passing heedlessly over. 
 
 And all the wild sweetness was Moore's and thine 
 own." 
 
 * Here, as in several other quotations from Moore, slight 
 changes have been made for adaptation to occasion. Ix is 
 deemed unnecessary to note them, however, as they will, of 
 course, be immtdiately recognized. 
 
 11 
 
(Enter Munstfr, Ulster, Connaught, and Leinstkk.) 
 
 MUNSTER. 
 
 Dear Erin, wherefore weeping in this sad and lonely 
 
 hall ? 
 Oh ! why upon thy silent harp do tears like raindrops 
 
 fall? 
 Thon knowest that, though captive now, thou look'st 
 
 across the sea, 
 Thy sons at home and far away still faithful are to 
 
 thee. 
 
 Ulster. 
 
 And we, thy faithful subjects now, have come Lhy grief 
 
 to cheer, 
 From North and South, and East and West, we come 
 
 to greet thee here. 
 Here's Connaught, ever called'- The Just," and Munster 
 
 bold, "The Free,'^ 
 Here's Leinster with glad tidings fraught, and here true 
 
 Ulster see. 
 
 Connaught. 
 
 Yes, Erin, from thy lovely eyes now wipe all tears away. 
 And, with thy brightest, sweetest smiles, make this a 
 
 festal day ; 
 By Leinster summoned here we are to make th}- lone 
 
 heart glad ; 
 Then raise to Heaven th}^ noble brow, why stand'st 
 
 thou there so sad? 
 
13 
 Erin. 
 
 blame me not, sisters, " my pride is gone b}'. 
 My spirit is broken which never wouhi bend ; 
 O'er my ruin my children in secret must sigh, 
 
 For 'tis treason to love me, and death to defend. 
 Unprized are m}^ sons till they've learned to betray ; 
 Undistinguished they live, if they shaine not their 
 sires ; 
 And the torch that would light them through dignity's 
 way. 
 Must be caught from the pile where their country ex- 
 pires." 
 
 Leinster. 
 
 If of the past thou'rt thinking now, and of the glory 
 
 gone, 
 One glor}', Erin, yet remains which should for all 
 
 atone ; 
 One thought should give thee healtli and strength all 
 
 sorrow to endure : — 
 The world to-day is honoring thy glorious son, Tom 
 
 Moore. 
 
 Ulster. 
 
 '' And though glory be gone, and though hope fade 
 away, 
 
 Thy name, loved Erin, shall live in his songs ; 
 Not e'en in the hour when his heart was most gay 
 
 Did he lose the remembrance of thee and thy vy^rongs 
 
The stranger shall hear th}^ lament on his plains, 
 The sigh of thy harp shall be sent o'er the deep ; 
 
 Till thy masters themselves, as they rivet thy chains, 
 Shall pause at the song of their captive and weep. 
 
 MUNSTER. 
 
 ," The nations have fallen, and thou art still j^oung, 
 Thy sun is but rising when others are set ; 
 
 And though slavery's cloud o'er th}^ morning hath hung 
 The full noon of freedom shall beam round thee yet. 
 
 Erin, O Erin, though long in the shade, 
 Tl)y star will shine out when the proudest shall fade !" 
 
 Erin. 
 
 Ah ! Munster, dearest Munster, with thy beauty of 
 
 Killarne}', 
 Thou hast a charm more potent still, the stone they call 
 
 "the blarney." 
 But, sisters dear, the ver}" thought you say should make 
 
 me glad, 
 But bowed me o'er my silent harp, and made my lone 
 
 heart sad. 
 The thought that in my pain and grief o'er a hundred 
 
 years ago, 
 God blessed me with a son whose songs have often 
 
 cheered my woe ; 
 A noble son, whose fondest dream was liberty for me ; 
 But a century since his birth has passed, and still I 
 
 am not free. 
 
15 
 
 And now, that time has brought again his glorious 
 
 natal day. 
 It grieves my heart that I to him no honor meet can 
 
 pay. 
 But since you're all so happy now, your bliss I'll not 
 
 alloy, 
 I know to see his Erin smile would fill Moore's soul 
 
 with joy. 
 
 CONNAUGHT. 
 
 Ah ! Erin dear, for sorrow, sure thy heart was never 
 
 meant, 
 Around thee sunny beams should play, and rays from 
 
 Heaven sent ; 
 How brightly joy shines from thine eyes that late were 
 
 filled with tears, 
 Look, Leinster, at the radiant smile her rosy mouth 
 
 now wears. 
 
 Leinster. (Sings : " Erin! the Tear and the Smile in 
 thine eyes.") 
 
 Erin ! the tear and the smile in thine eyes, 
 Blend like the rainbow that hangs in thy skies ! 
 Shining through sorrow's stream, 
 Saddening through pleasure's beam , 
 Thy suns with doubtful gleam 
 Weep while they rise. 
 
i6 
 
 Erin ! thy silent tear never shall cease, 
 Erin ! thy languid smile ne'er shall increase, 
 
 Till, like the rainbow's light. 
 
 Thy various tints unite, 
 
 And form in Heaven's sight, 
 One arch of peace. 
 
 Erin. 
 
 You are right, sweet sisters, I have reason to rejoice ; 
 for, 
 
 *' Let fate do her worst ; there are relics of joy. 
 
 Bright dreams of the past, which she cannot destroy ; 
 
 Which come in the night time of sorrow and care, 
 
 And bring back the features that joy used to wear. 
 
 Long, long be ray heart by such memories filled ! 
 
 Like the vase, in which roses have once been dis- 
 tilled,— 
 
 You may break, you may shatter the vase if you 
 will, 
 
 But the scent of the roses will cling to it still." 
 
 CoNNAUGHT. (Si7igs : ^^ Oh, ivhere*s the Slave/') 
 
 Oh, Where's the slave so lowly. 
 Condemned to chains unholy, 
 
 Who, could he burst 
 
 His bonds at first. 
 Would pine beneath them slowly? 
 
17 
 
 What soul whose wrongs degrade it, 
 Would wait till time decayed it, 
 
 When thus its wing 
 
 At once may spring 
 To the throne of him who made it? 
 
 Hear me, Krin, — hear me all. 
 
 We ne'er shall see thee fall. 
 
 Less dear tlie laurel growing 
 Alive, untouched, and blowing. 
 
 Than that whose braid 
 
 Is plucked to shade 
 The brows with victory glowing. 
 We tread the land that bore us, 
 Her green fl;ig glitters o'er us. 
 
 The friends we've tried 
 
 Are by our side. 
 And the foe we hate before us. 
 
 Hear me, Erin, — hear me all, 
 
 We ne'er shall see thee fall. 
 
 Munstp:r. 
 
 And, Erin, though in slavery they bind thy fair white 
 
 hands, 
 Thy mind admits no thraldom, no, it bursts all servile 
 
 bands ; 
 In poetry's bright galaxy thy noble son is bright, 
 " The poet of all circles of his own the fond delight." 
 
i8 
 
 Remember grand Cornelia with her Grracchi at her 
 
 side, 
 Cared not for other jewels, they were e'er her only 
 
 pride ; 
 In the glorious possession of thy genius-dowered 
 
 Moore, 
 Rejoice, be glad, Mother dear, thy glory shall endure. 
 
 Leinster. 
 
 On this glad anniversary of thy noble poet's birth, 
 List to his songs and poems now, from all parts of the 
 
 earth ; 
 And while the world doth honor him, oh ! let us lead 
 
 to thee 
 Thy children whom with flowers fair we in the distance 
 
 see. 
 
 {Enter, as they are named, the counties of Leinster.) 
 
 Here's bonny Carlow and bright Kildare, 
 And here is Longford with face so fair ; 
 Meath and Westmeath with regal air, 
 Kings and Queens Counties, a noble pair ; 
 Here's Louth and Wexford, renowned of yore, 
 And sweet Kilkenny from the river Nore, 
 And here are Wicklovv and Dublin grand, — 
 A mutual joy brings them hand in hand. 
 
19 
 Ulster. 
 
 (E)der, as they are named, the counties of Ulster.) 
 
 Here's Antrim ready lier love to seal, 
 
 And Armagh, the county oX Roe O'Neill ; 
 
 Together come Cavan and lordly Down, 
 
 And brave old Derry with her " Maiden town." 
 
 Here's noble Monaghan the county of McGee, 
 
 And with her Donegal from her shore washed by the sea ; 
 
 Here comes fair Fermanagh from her green and fertile 
 
 fields, 
 And bold Tyrone rejoicing in her brave son, General 
 
 Sliields. 
 
 MUNSTEU. 
 
 (Enter, as they are named, the counties of Munster.) 
 
 From cliff of Moher liere comes sweet Clare, 
 Here's brave Tipperary to do and dare ; 
 Here's noble Cork with her Gougaune Barra, 
 And Waterford, coming with joy to Tara ; 
 True Limerick thinking of hei stone with ire. 
 And Kerry, the county of our poet's sire. 
 
 CONNAUGHT. 
 
 {Enter, as they are named, the counties of Connaught.) 
 
 Last, from my western, sea-beaten shore, 
 
 I bring five daughters, with love galore; 
 
 Here's Gal way, strong in her gray hills' might. 
 
 And Roscommon, where Goldsmith first saw the light ; 
 
 Brave Sligo or Leitrim will never fail, 
 
 Nor Mayo, the county of Granuaile. 
 
20 
 
 All. (Si)ig: ^ 'Let Erin Rememher.'') 
 
 Let P^i'in remember the days of old, 
 
 Ere her faithless sons betrayed her, 
 When Malachi wore the collar of gold, 
 
 Which he won from her proud invader ; 
 When her kings, with standards of green unfurled, 
 
 Led the Red-Branch Knights to danger ; 
 Kre the emerald gem of the western world 
 
 Was set in the crown of a strang;er. 
 
 On Lough Neagh's bank as the fisherman strays, 
 
 When the clear cold eve's declining. 
 He sees the round towers of other da^^s 
 
 In the wave beneath him shining ; 
 Thus shall memory ofien, in dreams sublime, 
 
 Catch a glimpse of the days that are over; 
 Thus, sighing, look through the waves of time 
 
 For the long-faded glories thej' cover. 
 
 Erin. 
 
 A glad cead mille failtlie now I give you with a will, 
 Your love and presence here lo-day with joy my soul 
 
 doth fill ; 
 From my heart, cead iiiille failthe, and blessings, too, 
 
 galore, 
 For bringing back proud thoughts and glad of all my 
 
 glory's store. 
 
21 
 
 All. {Recite.) 
 
 For Ihy welcome we are grateful, 
 
 To thy love we will be faithful, 
 And in one grand and noble cause we here do all unite ; 
 
 We have cast old feuds behind us, 
 
 A chain of love doth bind us 
 To Erin and her Poet, to Freedom and to Right. 
 
 Leinster, Ulster, Munster, and Conxaught. {Sing 
 '^ Oh, for the Stuords of Former Time:') 
 Oh, for the swords of former time ! 
 
 Oh, for the men who bore them, 
 When, armed for Right, they stood sublime, 
 
 And tyrants crouched before them ! 
 When pure yet, ere courts began 
 
 With honors to enslave him, 
 The best honors worn by man 
 
 Were those which virtue gave him. 
 Oh. for the swords of former time ! 
 
 Oh, for the men who bore them. 
 When, armed for Right, they stood sublime, 
 
 And tyrants crouched before them ! 
 
 Oh, for the kings who flourished then ! 
 
 Oh, for the pomp that crowned them, 
 When hearts and hands of free-born men 
 
 Were all the ramparts round them ! 
 When, safe built on bosoms true, 
 
 The throne was but the centre 
 Round which Love a circle drew, 
 
 That Treason durst not enter. 
 
22 
 
 Oh, for the kings who flourished then ! 
 
 Oh, for the pomp that crowned them, 
 When hearts and hands of free-born men 
 
 Were all the ramparts round them ! 
 
 Kerry. 
 I, the county of Moore's father, have left my lakes of 
 
 beauty, 
 Rich in memories of O'Connell, I have, too, a claim on 
 
 Moore ; 
 So, now with love and pleasure, 'tis Kerry's right and 
 
 duty 
 To wait upon thee, Erin, and flowers round thee pour. 
 
 (Gives Erin flowers .) 
 
 WiCKLOW. 
 
 I from lovely vales have come here, and from Avoca's 
 
 waters. 
 
 To offer thee glad wishes and in all this joy to share ; 
 
 For our poet's noble mother was one of Wicklow's 
 
 daughters, 
 
 In memory of her virtues I present these flowers rare. 
 
 (Gives Erin flowers.) 
 Dublin. 
 And I, from by the Liffe3^'s banks, have come to greet 
 
 thee now, 
 In love and gratitude and jo}^ I, Dublin, to thee bow ; 
 Kerrj^'s son and Wicklow's daughter came in wedded 
 
 love to me. 
 And gave me thus the honor gieat Moore's native place 
 to be. 
 
23 
 
 Together we have ever shared thy mingled weal and 
 
 woe, « . 
 
 On this, thy proud and happy day, we come our joy to 
 
 show ; , . • ^ 
 
 While all the world doth gladly sound his praise so 
 
 high and pure. 
 With flowers we've come te crown thee here, thou true 
 love of our Moore. 
 
 (Attempts to crown Erin,m the latter prevents her, and 
 gives back to Kerry and Wickloro the flowers she had 
 received from them.) 
 
 Ekin. 
 Dear Dublin, Kerry, Wicklow, weave not your flowers 
 for me, ^ 
 
 A crown of thorns still binds my brows and will till 1 
 
 am free ; 
 But since my harp is silent now, go, bind your flowers 
 
 there, ,, , . 
 
 Bedeck her with their beauty, and I will her glory 
 
 Ah! wotld'that from her golden chords I could her 
 
 spirit call, , , ,i . 
 
 But, alas ! we have no music now in Tara's lonely hall , 
 For " the Minstrel Boy to the war has gone, 
 4 In the ranks of death you'll find him ; 
 His father's sword he has girded on. 
 And his wild harp slung behind him." 
 
Ulster. 
 
 Antrim sa3^s there is a wanderer here from good old 
 
 Belfast town, 
 A minstrel gra}^ who'll sing for thee some air of old 
 
 renown. 
 
 Lead him in, dear Ulster, we'll list to him with joy. 
 Since on the field of glory we lost our Minstrel Boy. 
 
 Hakpp:r. (Advancing to harp, plays and sirigs : '^Tlie 
 Minstrel Boy."') 
 
 The Minstrel Boy to the war has gone, 
 In the ranks of death you'll find him ; 
 
 His father's sword he has girded on, 
 And his wild harp slung behind him. 
 " Land of song ! " said the warrior bard, 
 
 " Though all the world betrays thee. 
 
 One sword, at least, thy right shall guard, 
 One faithful harp shall praise thee." 
 
 The Minstrel fell ! — but the foeman's chain 
 
 Could not bring his proud soul under ; 
 The harp he loved ne'er spoke again. 
 
 For he tore its chords asunder ; 
 And said, " No chains shall sully thee. 
 
 Thou soul of love and bravery ! 
 Thy songs were made for the brave and free ; 
 
 They shall never sound in slavery." 
 
25 
 Erin. 
 
 And now that you have woven around my harp fair 
 flowers, 
 There yet remains an emblem e'en dearer still to me ; 
 'Twas sunshine in my darkness, my hope in gloomy 
 hours, 
 My sisters — bare before you, the Celtic cross there 
 see. 
 Go, Wexford, mark with roses the traces of the life- 
 blood 
 Of thy women and thy children which there glutted 
 Cromwell's blade — 
 Thou rememb'rest well the morning, when before that 
 holy emblem. 
 They bowed in deepest anguish and for mercy vainly 
 prayed. 
 
 Wexford. ( While croimiing cross vntli roses, sings : "■ The 
 Last Rose of Summer.") 
 
 'Tis the last rose of summer left blooming alone ; 
 All her lovely companions are faded and gone ; 
 No flower of her kindred, no rosebud is nigh. 
 To reflect back her blushes, to give sigh for sigh. 
 
 V\\ not leave thee, thou lone one, to pine on the stem ; 
 Since the lovely are sleeping, go sleep thou with them. 
 Thus kindly I scatter thy leaves o'er the bed. 
 Where thy mates of the garden lie scentless and dead. 
 
26 
 
 So soon may I follow, when friendships decay, 
 And from Love's shining circle the gems drop away" ! 
 When true hearts lie withered and fond ones are flown, 
 Oh ! who would inhabit this bleak world alone ! 
 
 Leinster. 
 
 Now harp and cross we both have crowned, from them 
 
 . we must not sever 
 "The chosen leaf of bard and chief, the shomrock 
 still forever." 
 
 (Love, Valor, ayid Wit enter, bearing each a bunch of 
 shamrocks^ and sing: '•'The Shamroch.'') 
 
 Wit. Through Erin's Isle 
 
 To sport a while, 
 As Love and Valor wandered, 
 L. and V. With Wit the sprite, 
 
 Whose quiver bright, 
 A thousand arrows squandered. 
 L. V. W. Where'er they pass, 
 
 A triple grass 
 Shoots up, with dewdrops streaming, 
 As softly green 
 As emeralds seen 
 Through purest crystal gleaming. 
 All. Uh, the Shamrock, the green, immortal 
 Shamrock ! 
 Chosen leaf 
 Of bard and chief. 
 Old Erin's native Shamrock ! 
 
27 
 
 Valok. Says Valor, " See, 
 
 The}' spring for me, 
 Those leafy gems of morning ! 
 Love. Says Love, "No, no. 
 
 For me they grow. 
 My fragrant path adorning." 
 Wit. But Wit perceives 
 
 The triple leaves. 
 And cries, "Oh, do not sever 
 A t^'pe that blends 
 Three God-like friends, 
 Love, Valor, Wit forever ! " 
 Oh, the Shamrock, etc. 
 
 L. V. 
 
 All. 
 
 W. 
 
 ( 
 
 L. 
 
 V. 
 
 W. 
 
 So firmly fond 
 May last the bond 
 The}" wove that morn together, 
 Love. And ne'er may fall 
 
 One drop of gall 
 On Wit's celestial feather. 
 Valor. May Love, as twine 
 
 Her flowers divine. 
 Of thorny falsehood weed 'cm. 
 Wit. May Valor ne'er 
 
 Her standard rear 
 Against the cause of Freedom ! 
 All. Oh, the Shamrock, etc. 
 
 {Columbia appears.) 
 
28 
 
 Erin. 
 
 Now who is this comes with the beauty of morning, 
 Heaven's bright stars her fair brow adorning, 
 Her face glad and beaming, her eyes brave and true? 
 'Tis Columbia comes decked in the red, wliite, and blue. 
 
 lovely young sister, from over the sea, 
 In joy as in sorrow rememb'rest thou me? 
 
 Columbia.- 
 
 " Remember thee ! 3'es, while there's life in this heart 
 It shall never forget thee, all lorn as thou art ; 
 More dear in thy sorrow, thy gloom, and thy showers, 
 Than the rest of the world in their sunniest hours. 
 
 "Wert thou all that I wish thee, — great, glorious, and 
 
 free, — 
 First flower of the earth, and first gem of the sea, — 
 
 1 might hail thee with prouder, with happier brow, 
 But, oh ! could I love thee more deeply than now? " 
 
 {Si7igs : ^^ Believe Me . " ) 
 
 Believe me, if all those endearing young charms, 
 
 Which I gaze on so fondly to-day, 
 Were to change by to-morrow, and fleet in my arms. 
 
 Like fairy-gifts fading away, 
 Thou wouldst still be adored, as this moment thou art, 
 
 Let thy loveliness fade as it will. 
 And around the dear ruin each wish of my heart 
 
 Would entwine itself verdantly still. 
 
29 
 
 It is not while beauty and youth are thine own, 
 
 And thy cheeks unprofaned by a tear, 
 That the fervor and faith of a soul can be known, 
 
 To which time can but make thee more dear ; 
 No, the heart that has truly loved never forgets. 
 
 But as truly loves on to the close, 
 As the sunflower turns on her god when he sets 
 
 The same look which she turned when he rose. 
 
 Erin. 
 
 Dear Columbia ! thou art welcome to Erin's Emerald 
 
 Isle ; 
 Would my children all were happy like thine 'neath 
 
 PYeedom's smile ; 
 But, thank God ! when they're exiles, they need not 
 
 friendless roam. 
 With thee, O kind Columbia ! the}" ever find a home. 
 
 Columbia. 
 
 Yes, and ever will, dear Erin, for they've earned it 
 
 with their blood, 
 In my bitter days of sorrow, at my side thy brave sons 
 
 stood. 
 In all battles for my freedom thy true-hearted sons 
 
 were seen. 
 Never was my free flag threatened, but beside it stood 
 
 thy green. 
 
30 
 
 Erin. (Sings : ^^Fd Mourn the Hopes'') 
 
 I'd mourn the hopes that leave me, 
 
 If thy smile had left me too ; 
 I'd weep when friends deceive me, 
 
 If thou wert, like them, untrue. 
 But while I've thee before me, 
 
 With heart so warm and eyes so bright, 
 No clouds can linger o'er me, — 
 
 That smile turns them all to light. 
 
 'Tis not in fate to harm me, 
 
 While fate leaves thy love to me ; ' 
 'Tis not in joy to charm me. 
 
 Unless that joy be shared with thee. 
 One minute's dream about thee 
 
 Were worth a long, an endless year 
 Of waking bliss without thee, 
 
 My own love, my only dear. 
 
 Columbia, 
 
 And now to honor thee, Erin dear, and thy noble poet 
 Moore, 
 
 I've come across the waters, at this shrine my gifts to 
 pour. 
 
 Not a state in all my broad domain, not a city, not a 
 town, 
 
 But on this day commemorates thy noble son's re- 
 nown. 
 
31 
 
 You've heard, sure, of the old Bay State * — well one, 
 
 good city there, 
 From the valley of the Merrimac, sends 3'ou these 
 
 flowers rare ; 
 We'll place them {Leinster and Manster unveil picture 
 
 of Moore) round Moore's portrait, and strew 
 
 them at his shrine, 
 I know that when I honor him the glory will be thine. 
 
 ( While Erin and Columbia are decorating portrait, both 
 together sing. Air: '' The Meeting of the Waters.'*) 
 
 There is not in this wide world a poet so sweet, 
 
 As the dear bard who sanof "where the bright waters 
 
 meet ;" 
 Oh ! the last rays of feeling and life shall depart, 
 Ere the name of Tom Moore shall fade from our heart. 
 
 Yet it is not that nature had dowered him well. 
 It is not that the world now his praises doth swell ; 
 It is not the grand magic of genius and lore. 
 That has won for Tom Moore affection's rich store. 
 
 *Tis that Erin, his country, to his heart was so dear, 
 That he brings to her children her loveliness near ; 
 He sings of her glory, her hopes, and her fears, 
 And his songs shall be cherished through all coming 
 years. 
 
 * State and river can be changed to suit locality. 
 
32 
 
 (^Turning to picture.) 
 
 Dear Bard of old Erin ! now calm be thy rest 
 
 In the Island of Saints with the friends thou loved'st 
 
 best ; 
 May thy country's afflictions for evermore cease, 
 Be her future, like thine, blest with glorj and peace. 
 
 (All sing. Air : " St. Patricias Day.'") 
 
 Though dark are our sorrows, to-day we'll forget them, 
 And smile through our tears, like a sunbeam in 
 showers ; 
 There never were hearts, if our rulers would let them, 
 More formed to be grateful and blest than ours. 
 But just when the chain 
 Has ceased to pain, 
 And hope has enwreathed it round with flowers. 
 There comes a new link 
 Our spirit to sink. 
 Oh ! the joy that we taste, like the light of the poles, 
 
 Is a flash amid darkness, too brilliant to stay ; 
 But, though 'twere the last little spark in our souls, 
 We must light it up now on our Poet's Day. 
 
 Contempt on the minion who calls us disloyal ! 
 
 Though fierce to our foes, to our friends we are true ; 
 And the tribute most high to a genius right royal, 
 Is love from a heart that loves liberty too. 
 While cowards who blight 
 Our fame, our right. 
 
33 
 
 Would slirink from the blaze of tlu- battle ana » , 
 The standar.i of green 
 Iq front would be seen. 
 Oh ! our lives on our faith ! were we summoned this 
 minute, 
 We'd cast every bitter remembrance away, 
 And show what the arm of old Erin has in it 
 When roused bj^ the foe on her Poet's Day. 
 
 He loved the Green Islo, and his love is recorded 
 
 In hearts that have suffered too much to forget ; 
 And hope shall be crowned, and attachment rewarded, 
 And Erin's gay jubilee shine out yet. 
 The gem may be broke 
 By many a stroke, 
 But nothing can cloud its native ray. 
 Each fragment will cast 
 A light to the last. 
 And thus Erin, my country, though broken tliou ait, 
 There's a lustre within thee that ne'er shall decay ; 
 A spirit which beams through each suffering part, 
 And now smiles at all pain on thy Poet's Day. 
 
 Columbia. 
 
 Now, many, many glad returns of this bright natal 
 
 day. 
 And at its close, before we part, how truly we may 
 
 say : 
 
34 
 
 As onward we journe\^ how pleasant, 
 
 To pause and inhabit a while, 
 Those few sunny spots like the present, 
 
 That 'mid the dull wilderness smile ! 
 But time, like a pitiless master, 
 
 Cries ' Onward ! ' and spurs the gay liour« ; 
 Ah! never doth time travel faster, 
 
 Than when his way lies among flowers." 
 
 (All sing. Air :'' Hail ColiimhUi.'') 
 
 Hail, Columbia ! happy land, 
 Hail, loved Erin ! maityr grand, 
 Hail, the Poet of Freedom's cause ! 
 Moore, the Poet of Freedom's cause, 
 Who Erin cheered through slavery's night. 
 And showed her gleams of Freedom's light. 
 Let Moore's loved Erin be tlie cr3', 
 For her we'll bravely do and die ! 
 Firm united let us be. 
 Rallying all for liberty, 
 As a band of sisters joined 
 Liberty we'll surely find. 
 
 Tableau. 
 
35 
 
 OTHER ALLEGORIKS BY THK SAME AUTHOR. 
 
 "FAITH OF OUR FATHERS." 
 
 This Allegory, which occupies about an hour in its 
 presentation, may include from fifteen to one hundred 
 persons, as is desirable, and may be given by either 
 boys or girls, or by both. It describes, in a few 
 words, the introduction of the Faith into Europe, 
 Asia, Africa, and America, in general; and, more 
 particularly, into italy, France. Spain, Germany, Eng- 
 land, Ireland, and the United States, special promi- 
 nence being given to the last two ; and concludes with 
 a grand tableau representing Hibernia as the one most 
 true to the Faith. 
 
 It is written in verse, as are all here mentioned, intro- 
 duces a number of Irish and American national airs, 
 and has been carefully prepared with regard to his- 
 torical accuracy. 
 
36 
 
 '^ A GLIMPSE OF THE DAYS THAT ARE 
 OVER," 
 
 another Allegory, represents Erin, at first, in despon- 
 elency, — " A crownless stricken Queen," cheered by 
 angel visitants, who reward her faith and long suffer- 
 ing by a glorions vision, in which Religion, Histor}', 
 Liberty, Science, Poetry, Music, Oratory, Painting, 
 Sculpture, Architecture, Industry, Love, Valor, and 
 Wit, recount the achievements that made Erin's land 
 the "Isle of Saints and Sages." Cheered by this 
 ''Glimpse of the days that are over," ' she is still 
 further encouraged by a visit from Columbia, her 
 '' lovelv young sister from over the sea," who tells her 
 that her land, too, has been improved and enriched by 
 Erin's sons ; that often 
 
 " Had been her rich resources vain, 
 But for the Irish exile's strength, his sinew, bone, and 
 brain." 
 
 She then prophesies for Erin a future more glorions 
 even than her past, and 
 
 " Prays with right good will 
 That God may speed the day and hour of Ireland's 
 Bunker Hill." 
 
37 
 A third Allegory, 
 
 "THE CHRISTIAN YEAR," 
 
 introduces, in representation of each month, characters 
 who recount the principal religious events whose anni- 
 versaries occur during her time, also the particular 
 saints she honors, as well as that to whom she is 
 dedicated. 
 
 "CHRISTIAN EDUCATION," 
 
 another Allegory, is particularly adapted to exhibitions 
 and commencements at Catholic schools and academies ; 
 as it recalls, by representations of the Pagan Muses, 
 and of the Christian Arts and Sciences, how carefully 
 and how successfully the Church has fostered Christian 
 Education. 
 
 "Go, search the records of the world, and thou wilt 
 
 surely find, 
 That while the Church trained heart and soul, she also 
 
 taught the mind. 
 And this is Education true, the Christian's noblest 
 
 boon, 
 Outshining thee [Secular Knowledge] as the warm, 
 
 bright sun outshines the cold, pale moon." 
 
3S 
 
 ''THE CHILDREN'S HEARTS FOR JESUS" 
 
 is more suitable for 3'oung children than an3^ of the 
 preceding, and is only appropriate for the month of 
 June. The characters are, June, Queen of the Red 
 Roses, of the White Roses, and of the Lilies; an 
 "Angel of the Sacred Heart," and a representative 
 from the children. 
 
 An Opeietta, 
 
 "THE DEAR OLD FARM," 
 
 has also been favorably received in several places. It 
 is lo be sung in character, and represents the f.ither, 
 mother, and children driven from their old home in 
 Ireland, the children to seek their fortune in America. 
 
39 
 
 ^'AYASHINGTON'S SHRINE," 
 
 a musical Allegory somewhat similar to "Moore's 
 Anniv^ers.'UT," is appropriate for an entertainment on 
 Washington's Birthday. It recounts briefly the parts 
 taken in tlie ReyoUitionary War by England, Ger- 
 many, France, Ireland, and Columbia ; introduces the 
 national airs of each ; and closes with a grand tableau 
 representing Ireland. Fiance, and Columbia unveiling 
 a picture or statue of Washington, while the Goddess 
 of Liberty, attended by Peace and War, crowns it. 
 
 Of this last ihe Lawrence American^ dated Feb. 23, 
 said : " The operetta, ' Washington's Biitliday,' wliich 
 was pi-esenLed at the Caihulic Ljceuin exercises last 
 evening, is a literary production of which Miss Olveeffe 
 maj' justl}' feel proud. It is fully up to the standard 
 of other productions from this young lady's ptn, and 
 the applause which greeted it throughout last evening, 
 from so large and refined an audience, showed the pub- 
 lic appreciation of the piece. It was an appropriate 
 and fitting close to one of the mo-t successful enter- 
 tainments conducted here this season." 
 
40 
 
 In press, the 
 
 "CATHOLIC QUARTERLY ELOCUTIONIST," 
 
 containing choice selections suitable for Catholic 
 schools and Literary Societies. 
 
 The experience of several years, in preparing for 
 Catholic literary entertainments, has convinced the 
 coraplier of the lack of works of this kind. Of the 
 scores of "Speakers" and "Choice iSelections " con- 
 sulted, few have more than one selection, some none 
 at all, fit to be rec:ted by Catholic youth. 
 
 All found in this collection have already been satis- 
 factorily tested by being recited in public, subject to 
 the criticism of those competent to decide as to tlieir 
 accordance with faith, morality, and patriotism. 
 
 For information concerning any of the above, ad- 
 dress 
 
 KATHARINE A. O'KEEFFE, 
 
 Lawrence, Mass. 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
 iitiiiiiiiniii 
 
 014 526 803 5 tf