'-■■ -: THE EMERALD ISLE ISP IP m i ; " '-.■•'■'■■■. " : - - '-. - The Emerald Isl IN POETRY AND PICTURES H BY HENRY S. CULVER $RISTOPj(Eft .PUBLISHING HOUSE. BOSTON Copyright ig20 By The Christopher Publishing House AUG 28 1920 1 13 - "W j EXPLANATORY This little book with its pictures and in- terpretive verses is published with the hope that those who peruse its pages may have at least a glimpse of those scenes and characters which make the Emerald Isle so interesting to the world, and so beloved by her sons and daughters everywhere. - \'M I H Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2011 with funding from The Library of Congress .': ,:■; http://www.archive.org/details/emeraldisleinpoeOOculv CONTENTS Ode to Ireland 9 queenstown 11 Dundanion Castle 13 connemara 15 The City of Cork 17 The River Lee 19 Cromwell's Bridge 21 The Marina Way 23 Grab-all-Bay 25 The Ruins 27 Sir Walter Raleigh 29 The Round Tower 31 Muckross Abbey . . . .• 33 Legend of the Two Towers 35 The Shamrock 37 Blarney 39 The Fastnet Rock 41 The Jingle 43 Dan'l O'Connell 45 The Donkey 47 Guarding the Chicks 49 Gathering Sea Weed 51 The Pig and the Children 53 My Irish Colleen 55 Retired From Service 57 Evening 59 Taking Their Pictures - 61 Scolding the Pigs 63 The Green Isle 65 Kate Kearney 67 Paddy's Market 69 The Sailor's Home 71 A Rale Irishman 73 The Dreadnought 75 The Jaunting Car 77 The Irish Farmer 79 la m ISP H h ■■"--■ m I 8 '■ Waiting 81 Racing 83 Sing to Me, Robin 85 The Kurnel 87 The Sunset Land 89 Going to Market 91 The Legend of Lough Bray 93 The Blind Fiddler 95 The Silvery Bay 97 The Evicted Tenant 99 Welcome, O Waves! 101 The Street Cobbler 1 03 By the Sea 1 05 The Blue Flame Turf 1 07 Meeting of the Waters 1 09 At the Shrine Ill The Tenant 113 KlLLARNEY 115 The Village 117 The Old Spinning Wheel 119 Going to Mass 121 Holy Well of Aghada 1 23 Life and the Tomb 1 25 The Irish Emigrant 127 Y m / - tf! V -ji.y ~>\'r'<" )''' A ; " ■,";"'■:.:■;' .,.-', y i '.; ■'. '■ l!'" 1 ' 1 y ' ', r,[ ' f . ""'/'' ""'; ■" _ ODE TO IRELAND HEN ye rose from the sea, Oh Erin A gift from God's own hand, To be the crowning glory Of all created land; And ye met the first day's dawning, With thy gorgeous hills aglow, There was ecstasy in heaven O'er the new world here below. 9 ,""": : 1 8 And that ye, supreme creation, Might forever be earth's queen Ye were decked in purple heather, And crowned with shamrock green Till the beauty of thy mountains Thy vales and glens among, Are the themes of rarest sweetness In earth's poesy and song. While to guard thy sacred portals, And stay time's ruthless hand, Ye were given sturdy warders To inherit thy fair land; Men exalted, honoring ever On the earth thy cherished name, Adding glory to thy beauty, Adding luster to thy fame. : - ■:-' ■■."_. a : n QUEENSTOWN AIR city by the Lee, Thy terraced houses gracefully Adorn with vari-colored hues The granite hills thou'rt built upon; And when at early morn the sun Doth touch thy tints with burning gold, Thy Oriental splendor is supreme. Thy whitening ways hedged in by walls 11 { W : \ -: w? a m 1 Of ivy green, that winding, crawl From quay to loftiest summit, But bind thy many sundered hills In common mass of pleasing beauty. The stranger at thy gate looks in With admiration on thy charms. The sun and air and sky temper Their moods to gratify thy pride While lured by shady grove and park, And gardens in perpetual bloom; Cathedral tower and battlements Of stone, that face thy boldest cliffs,. The sea, the mighty amorous sea, Leaps boldly through thy harbor's mouth To kiss thy guarded waiting shore. pi i? - : . DUNDANION CASTLE ELL may ye hide your prison bars Beneath the living ivy green, Well may ye perish thus disguised, Your frightful dungeon cells unseen. 13 This be your end for deeds of shame, For pleas of justice oft denied Where innocence in galling chains Languished, unheard, in terror, died. Full soon your craven form must pass, The leaves that hide you soon must die, Naught will e'er mark your resting place — In dust and ashes will ye lie. m 1 &. CONNEM ARA HERE'S a cottage 'mong the hills of Connemara, Where I left my dark-eyed sweet- heart long ago: I kissed her there good bye, the love-light in her eye, While she whispered, "Oh, I love you so, love you so." While she whispered, "Oh, I love you so." 15 There's a grave among the hills of Conne- mara, Where my sweetheart 'neath the hawthorn lies so low; My heart is buried there in the grave beside my fair, While she whispers, "Oh, I love you so, love you so." While she whispers, "Oh, I love you so." I mourn for her who sleeps in Connemara, Tho' I see her angel face wher'er I go; I am waiting for the hour we'll be together, And she'll whisper, "Oh, I love you so, love you so." And she'll whisper, "Oh, I love you so." : n 16 THE CITY OF CORK N MARSH-LAND, where the river Lee Now in thy lap pours wealth of From distant lands far o'er the sea, St. Finbar thy foundations laid. Where now thy teeming thousands run, And stand thy busy marts of trade, The sons of Ebric were undone, And Conn unsheathed his trusty blade. 17 t2. ' The pagan Kings on parapegm Proclaimed thy laws, unknowing God, Before the Babe in Bethlehem The troubled ways of life had trod. Ye had, for full a thousand years, Oh, ancient city by the Lee Stood trembling 'twixt thy hopes and fears, Before Columbus sailed the sea. And yet ye stand, unrivaled still, Proud of an honored ancient name, And brave undaunted Ireland will Forever guard thy well earned fame. - m M M i THE RIVER LEE RAND in song and ancient story Are the Shannon and the Dee, But grander in pristine glory- Art thou, Oh beautiful Lee. Old thou art, Oh silent River, Years their weight have on thee prest, Thou hast seen the bow and quiver Of the wild tribes on thy breast. 19 ■ Yet thou art to eye enchanting As ye flow through fields of gold, Ever on our hearts implanting Scenes our memories unfold. Be thou then majestic River, What through ages thou hast been, Grand, imperious, silent, ever Ireland's glory to defend. - 20 I CROMWELL'S BRIDGE 'LENGARIFF'S hills are red with fire, The frantic people pray and moan, And swear eternal vengeance, sire, — And fly to yonder bridge of stone." "They seek to check our onward march, And gather with increasing force, E'en now uncapped is every arch To drive us from our southern course." 21 7 : Thus spake an emissary brave, When Cromwell turned to him and said,. — "If thus the Irish clans behave, Some wily chief must lose his head." "Go tell the savage Irish horde, If thus, are royal troops delayed, Not one, but many by the sword Shall perish, go; nor be afraid." "Stay; tell them more, my orders are, They shall disperse and not delay, They must at once the bridge repair, And for our troops must clear the way." "Nay more; for every hour delayed, One Irish rebel shall be hung, And if again we are betrayed, The necks of twenty shall be wrung." At coming morn to martial view, A pleasing object met their sight, — There stood the bridge, all risen new, While Cromwell slumbered through the night. - 22 rf> - ' THE MARINA WAY E STALWART trees that guard so well This grand majestic way, What of your duties, pray ye tell Why stand in such array? 23 SSii ■ rz!:' PI -"••■,' i Have ye been marshaled 'gainst the foe, The storm wind in its flight? If this your mission then we know Ye are victors by your might. But if ye stand to guard the way Where a maid but seeks her swain, Then all your grandeur fades in a day Your splendor is all in vain. "■ ; 24 m • GRAB-ALL-BAY 'N THE days when pirates roamed the seas Thy sheltering hills their plunder hid, And many a bark that touched thy shores But swelled the wealth of Captain Kidd. Could they but speak thy hills would tell A story of this murderous band, How babes were slain and women killed Who now lie buried in the sand. 25 .^ ;i ;M'- ' :--":-■" -■'-'-- — ■ \v ! m: .-:; v And how they lured the flying sail On treacherous rocks that guard thy shore, There to enslave the hapless crew Whose ship would ride the seas no more. - : ,. : - 26 ^ r 1© THE RUINS f H, ANCIENT pile of dust and stone, Speak, tell the story of thy life; When were ye brought from quarry forth, To be a fortress in the strife? Unveil the past and picture those Who from thy casements watched the foe In stealth approach, with murd'rous hearts To slaughter them, and lay thee low. 27 " ■,. Did royal king, or chieftain bold, E'er dwell within thy granite walls, Did ever music, song and mirth, Or laughter echo through thy halls? Speak, ancient pile, when glory full, Did'st render service to the State, Or did thou merely vaunt the pride Of some vain glorious potentate? ■^ : : 28 ^::H^ Ouj, 4itBK mPRK^ MB ; _^^B^^^^. HBUl r3i BffLisi jH « jAE* ^ PSJfcj. MM WT VWr fir : w! B8- : " ^5^ BBIBI"' Nil ..^ HjUn jfc^BS mBBBI SIR WALTER RALEIGH HO HAVE achieved, we love them most, The truly great we love and all That touched their strenuous lives. The scene some master mind has stirred, Or martial hero looked upon, We cherish as a part of his Immortal self, but if perchance The habitation stands wherein he wrought, Wherein with kindred souls he lived, And from which poured his genius forth; 29 Tis hallowed ground, a holy place, And to our wondering waiting souls It speaks as though with very tongue Of him, who dwelt within its walls; So speaks this ancient house at Youghal, As he whom kings did honor spake: And as we tread its sacred halls That once took measure of his step, And read on manuscript and stone, The record of his full fraught years, And gaze within the curtained room Where Spencer's "Fairie Queen" had birth, We reckon not the lapse of time, But see in fancy still his form As when with mighty spirits Like his own, he walked the earth, A noble specimen of Man. 30 THE ROUND TOWER HAT anxious eyes have from thy case- ments glared, And into others, threatening, wildly stared? 31 -■' What beating hearts have refuge found within, From savage foe, or yet more savage kin? What hopes, what fears within their bosoms stirred When sound of clashing sword and spear were heard? Thou answereth not mysterious shaft, But standeth mute, thy secrets holding fast; Nor hast thou through the prying centuries Disclosed thy vast, astounding mysteries. Ah well; while cold and silent yet, thou art, Thou still unconsciously must play a part, For standing 'twixt the years, now long since past, And those to be, thou must until the last Mark the long distance human feet have trod From savagery, to hope in Holy God. ■W\ - - - -.-'"■ i " ; :> --.--■ -:s ::-;_. MUCKROSS ABBEY HEN human structures crumble into dust, And earthly scenes of grandeur fade, and rust Consumes the enchanting art of ages past, And leaves a ravished hideous pile at last That must forever mar dame nature's realm, And her harmonious system overwhelm; Then comes the master architect sublime, And with a skillful practiced touch benign, Weaves the green ivy o'er the ruins old, 33 In most exquisite fashion, fold on fold, Until from out the ruined wastes arise A scene of beauty rarer than the skies; Quivering with life, as fresh as budding spring, The dull dead heap transformed to living thing; Surpassing all the works of human hand To decorate and beautify the land. 34 I 1 LEGEND OF THE TWO TOWERS With apologies to Samuel Lover WO TOWERS there are at Clonmac- noise, Once of equal size and poise, But now dismantled, overthrown Lies one a heap of granite stone The subject of my story; When selfish Bishop years ago, Who fond of earthly power and show, To save his certain overthrow Built here these towers for glory. 35 To save the priest and him defend The workmen hastened to the end, Nor asked for compensation till They'd anchored fast the topmost sill ; With what results ye may surmise, His lordship thought the price too h:gh, And sought to argue how and why A lesser sum would satisfy, Until at last his ire did rise. Then hastening from the dizzy height He soon did leave them in a plight, For when they followed to the ground No ladders in the tower they found ; A sad predicament indeed, And then to tantalize them sore He threatened, ranted, even swore And vowed that they should starve before He'd satisfy unrighteous greed. "Ye'll take what's offered," said the priest "Or else ye'll never feed or feast, So when your pride ye modify I'll choose to help ye from the sky And welcome ye to mother earth." At this his lordship went to pray, And Tim the fool passed by that way, "Ah well;" he shouted, "well-a-day, Here's chance for litt'e fun and mirth." "Ye're lookin' well up there," says he, "Like preaghauns sittin' in a tree." "Ye blackguard," shouted back the men, "Come back and help us down again Now, while his lordship's gone to pray." At that the foolish lad replied, "I'm thinkin' ye are fools servile For can't ye turn from off the pile, Three stones for one put on the while, Before, by cunning Bishop spied?" 'Twas then the workmen with a will Uncapped the heavy topmost sill, And in their rage flung stone and mortar To the ground, in great disorder, The cunning Bishop to surprise. And long before his prayer was finished The lusty workmen had demolished All their labors had accomplished, And fled the place where now it lies. 36 ^ - I; ; THE SHAMROCK ' E MAY take from dear Erin her wild purple heather, And the sweet blushing roses that bloom on the hill; Ye may rob the red fuchsias of beauty forever, Only leave the dear shamrock, she'll be Ireland still. 37 . : ■' - ■ " Ye may filch from her glens the fairest of flowers, And the hawthorn and laurel may ruth- lessly kill; Ye may veil from the sight her castles and towers, Only leave the dear shamrock, she'll be Ireland still. Ye may fade the green Ivy that creeps o'er the hedges, And so lovingly drinks from the mad rushing rill; Ye may plunder her velvety moss-covered ledges, Only leave the dear shamrock, she'll be Ireland still. Ye may drive from her shores the hearts that adore her, Even into her life alien blood may instill; But wherever her children, they'll ne'er cease to love her, And with the dear shamrock, she'll be Ireland still. .- 38 .-':■ ^J BLARNEY N HIS vestments of grey, All ragged at last, The spirit of Blarney lives; And concealed in his breast Is a marvelous past, The secrets of which he gives To those alone Who kiss the stone That he holds in his iron grasp. 39 1 -j A right clever sage is This spirit in grey; In spite of his vestments plain; For the pilgrims who stay, At his shrine, must pay, If to wisdom they would attain, And kiss the stone And thus atone, For wearing his vestments away. ; : i i : .f, 40 (wWMmi B THE FASTNET ROCK HOU bold unchanging mighty rock, Breasting the storm swept sea, Waiting the frightful ocean's shock, In silent majesty. Alone where the wild and savage tide, Lurks for his human prey, Ye stand in brave and martial pride, Holding his wrath at bay. 41 The while ye throw your dazzling light Far flashing o'er the sea, Dispelling the awful ocean night, And the heart's anxiety. So on the crowded ocean way, Ye guide the flying sail, While round thee, fearful thunders play, And the tempests loudly wail. : , 42 THE JINGLE KING may ride in his royal car Where only the gentry mingle, But the common folk may go as far In a fine old Irish Jingle. So here's to the jarvey and his car When clouds hang low and lowery, And he'll drive you swiftly near or far For half of your lady's dowery. 43 And here he waits for a half crown fare A shilling for one way single, But if you come back he'll charge ye mair For a ride in his one horse jingle. 44 DAN'L O'CONNELL S ONE who sees amid the clouded heavens, As through a mist, a dimly lighted star, So he, the chieftain of a valiant people A vision caught of freedom from afar. His flaming torch flung high that they might follow, He led them on to heights unknown and new, 45 '. And there, though faint and weary with the struggle, They stood with him at last and caught the view. Caught the dim star that brighter grew and brighter As nearer to the light he led them on, Until at last the star lit up the kingdom, — The vanished kingdom that they thought had gone. And still that star is blazing in the heavens, The star of freedom that O'Connell saw, And Ireland, patient, brave, unconquered Ireland, Will yet rejoice in Freedom's holy law. 46 ,„;;,; -jL. i 3 HI H THE DONKEY REAMILY waiting beside the wall, Waiting the master's familiar call, Waiting for duty with eyes half closed, To love and faithfulness ever disposed. Putting the master, me thinks, to shame With many a virtue he dares not claim; If men were donkeys and donkeys men As far as some of their traits we ken The world would be better, yes saner be With less of haste and anxiety. 47 ■) iv= .'? ; GATHERING SEA WEED UT OF thy waters, O mystic sea, Ye build and build mysteriously, Homes on thy stones has the red sea weed, Where it lives and grows 5! As the wild sea rose, That the hungry fields, it may nourish and feed While they in turn may bring forth food To feed the famishing human brood. So ye the fountain of life art then, Sating the hunger and thirst of men. O marvelous sea; What a mystery. 52 - ;■: m THE PIG AND THE CHILDREN ISTRESS Julia McCarty of Killnoch- magree Had a pig and some children who couldn't agree, The children were dirty, but the pig, she kept "clane," For a very good reason I soon will explain. She would wash Mister Piggy and brush his white hair And she'd leave the dear children alone in despair. 53 The baby McCarty who was just rising two Was so dirty his features were lost to the view; Well, one day a neighbor went over to call And seeing the children so dirty and all — She "aixed" Mistress McCarty to rise and explain Why the children were dirty and his pigship so "clane." "Well ye know, Mistress Johnson," said Mis- tress McCarty, "A full share of dirt is both healthy and hearty, So in raisin' the pig and the childer togither, I but follow the rule laid down by me mither; For she often remarked as together we'd sup, In nature there's always a true levelin' up, So I wash up the shoat to look clane and nate And I lave the dear childer in a dirtier state, For by this means you see the pig's more like a kid, And the childer look more like a pig than they did." : m MY IRISH COLLEEN LUSHING her cheeks as the red rose of Erin, Graceful her form as the swift bounding deer, 55 W&Wt Eyes burning softly with love's tender passion, A voice like the thrush when morn doth appear. She is my Colleen, my sweet Irish Colleen, And no dearer sweetheart hath ever been seen. Oft o'er the mountain all purple with heather, We wander in search of the full sated kine, Nor weary the quest if moon-beams are shin- ing, Her soft hand lovingly resting in mine. She is my Colleen, my sweet Irish Colleen, And no dearer sweetheart hath ever been seen. : When in the gloaming I tell her I love her, And long for the day when she shall be mine, She whispers in accents of purest devotion, — "I love only you and pray to be thine." She is my Colleen, my sweet Irish Colleen, And no dearer sweetheart hath ever been seen. :■-, 56 RETIRED FROM SERVICE NLY a donkey, and nobody knows The kicks I've had and the cruel blows, And the loads I've pulled. And the trials I've had, Trying to make my master glad. So here I am all limpy and old Left to starve out here in the cold, No one to love me — Here then must I lie Forsaken, alone, perchance to die. 57 v I think of the days of my youth now passed In shining harness polished and brassed, Such pride in me then Tho' they beat me sore, But this is the end, I'll soon be no more. -~ . *ci' 58 o EVENING >H! SILENT peaceful time of rest; That hour when nature seeks repose, And doth so gently, softly close The golden curtains of the west, For sleep and rest. Thou art of all the hours the best, Inviting with a subtle spell 59 The sated herds with tinkling bell, To wend their way in silent quest Of home and rest. •>-; Thy tranquil spirit ever blest, Beguiling to the sheltered bowers The song birds, where through danger hours, They find in safe accustomed nest Sweet sleep and rest. As thus thy moments we attest, So may our evening time of life Steal gently on, no fear, no strife, Until at last at God's behest We find sweet rest. 60 " : TAKING THEIR PICTURES ADDY look dacent if ye can, So folks will know it's you, Ye've no pride left, it seems to me, Don't move, he'll soon be through. 61 Oh, thank ye, Sor, God spare ye too; I'm glad the picture's took, — Ye see he's careless, Sor, and old, It's hard to make him look So the childer'll know it's him, Sor, They once knowecl like a book. It's many years they've left us, Sor, For lands far, far away; There's no one left, just me and dad, And we're not very gay. But then he moight be better, Sor, That's what I often say. How many? Oh, there's eight with Tim, The youngest don't ye know, But I wouldn't care so much. Sor, Only he's crippled so, And walks with a crutch like this, Sor, He went to live with Joe. Excuse me, Sor, it's awful hard, To think of Dad and me A-livin' alone till the judgment day, Before we'll ever see Each other again, the childer and us, Just as we used to be. 62 ¥< S^i' SCOLDING THE PIGS 'E ROGUES: how ye scramble for pra- ties and milk, That's makin' your coats just as soft as rale silk; Ye're clane enough too, for the parlor indade, But I'm lost to account for your heathenish greed. Why don' ye be dacent and eat like your mither? Shure she's niver a minnets trouble or bother. I know ye belong to a new generation, 63 1 _ ' - --_ But that's no excuse for such seeming starva- tion, When from mornin' till night I be tremblin' and quakin' For fear your poor bellies will be painin' and achin'. Ye're an ungrateful lot, shure I'd ne'er be a pig; I'm ashamed of ye quite, but plainly I twig Ye're expectin' the day when the rint comes around And ye'll go to the market a full hundred pound, And they'll cut off your heads that ye fight with so hard And by faith I'll be glad when ye're out of the yard. 64 THE GREEN ISLE ] PHEAVED from the fathomless deep, Thy bosom wet with the sea; Nor aroused from thy ocean sleep, Till sun kissed, ye modestly Donned a mantle of green, That ye wear like a queen, Thou nymph of the Northern Sea. Begot in a far distant age. Nurtured by the fruitful tide, 65 Lost in mist when the mad storms rage, Still charming when they subside; In thy velvety green, That ye wear like a queen, Daughter of the loving sea. Favored one of the signal three, Rich in thy castles and towers, Thy rivers the Shannon and Lee, Thy fragrant rose crowned bowers, And the Shamrock so green Ye still wear like a queen, Brave heart of the world-wide sea. 66 ._ __ . ■^ :s :. KATE KEARNEY LD ENGLAND, and the rest of earth Have maids who never blarney, But of such beauties there's a dearth As Ireland's own Kate Kearney. E'en Scotland with her wealth of girls Must take a far off journey, For not within her realm are pearls As beauteous as Kate Kearney. 67 All lands have famous beauties rare Some poor and some with money, But none with Ireland can compare For she has dear Kate Kearney. So when you land on Erin's shore Go straight to Lake Killarney, And for earth's beauties seek no more For there you'll see Kate Kearney. ; 68 -. PADDY'S MARKET EDLEY of sights, fury of sounds Mixture of all that on earth abounds, Short and tall, the hungry and fat, And still more mixtures after that; Cabbage and oranges, fish and tripe, Onions and pig's feet mixed with snipe, Lard and beeswax, honey and hake, Bloaters and beans, oysters and steak, Hardware and tinware, beer and bones. Eggs and butter mixed up with stones, 69 Ribbons and buttons, laths and nails, Raspberry jam wth tallow and snails, Codfish and pig's heads, flour and soap, Rashers and saurkraut mixed up with rope, And so never ending but always extending The mixtures you find at this market in Cork. 70 J ;: : © THE SAILOR'S HOME E TELL of the land, the wooded land, The beauty of vale and glen, Wide stretches of meadow and ripening fields, The habitations of men. To me your woods are prison walls, Your valleys the dungeons gloom, Your crystal air from wind swept plains, The stifling breath of doom. 71 Mine is a home where the boundless deep Touches the far off sky, Where storm clouds kiss the wakening waves While onward they swiftly fly. The hills I love are the crested waves, Heaved by the mighty tide — I love the winds, the far blown winds By the salt spray purified. My home is vast, from the dawn of day It stretches to dawn again, No shore so distant but it may reach And your continents enchain. Do ye wonder then I love my home, The vast the billowy sea, The mighty realm where none but God Reigns through Eternity? 11 " -- - II fU A RALE IRISHMAN EY? plase speak a bit louder, Sure, Sor, no one is prouder Of being an Irishman true, Than I be meself, Sor, 73 h-^9 For that were no lie, Sor, An' God bless ye'r honor, too. Just inside o' me shanty. There's praties in plenty, An' a drap o' the crater too; Step inside me door, Sor, An' hev but a smile, Sor, Ye'r welcome, ye'r honor, too. Oh yes, Sor; I'm ninety, But I f ale big an' moighty, An' niver a moment blue, With a drink o' the crater To aid mother nater, An' 'twill help ye'r honor, too. J 74 THE DREADNOUGHT RIM cruel monster of the sea, Creature of lowest savagery, Inspired by that arch fiend the devil To burden man with still more evil, In arrogance of power ye ride The foaming sea and restless tide, And when some weak and helpless state, Has of your power but felt the weight, And by your guns been terrified From claiming justice yet denied. Ye swell with vanity supreme, From stem to stern your pennant's stream, 75 And joined by others of your kind Ye seek what honors ye may find, Ye proudly boast your perfect art While men applaud, and praise the heart Whose blood your murd'rous decks yet stain, Or else still tortured writhes in pain. Oh! peace on earth, what mockery! When such crafts sail on every sea; When will the beast in man subside? When will the words of Christ abide? 76 ': l SM THE JAUNTING CAR ROM Iceland to the southern seas, From east to west as distant far, No creature sweeps with pinions spread, So swiftly as the Jaunting Car. Up rugged steeps it flies aloft As if to some great sparkling star; One feels the earth receding fast When riding on a Jaunting Car. 77 It whirls through valleys, over hills With lightning speed without a jar, It never tires, it never stops, This flying Irish Jaunting Car. What use to man the aeroplane, Or anything that's sublunar- While there is such a thing on earth, As Ireland's famous Jaunting Car. 78 L- 1 k r ". THE IRISH FARMER ING we the song of the verdant soil, The fallow fields and green, The honest labor that dignifies toil, And the primal life serene. Sing we the songs of harmonies grand, The blending of myriad throats, The rippling stream over pebbly sand, The torrents ponderous notes. 79 The plowman's song and the lowing herds, The laughter of childish glee, The crowing of cocks, the singing birds In the tree-tops, glad and free. All, all in a happy loud acclaim, Mingle their voices of love. The music swells in a glad refrain To the courts of heaven above. WAITING HEN ye go for the cows at e'en, Katy, Wait for me down by the stile, And we'll drive them home to- gether, lassie, By the safest longest mile. 81 i m And if they think ye've been o'er long, Katy, Oh; tell them never a lie, But say ye were helping a calf, lassie, Along the hedge hard by. And when at the top of the hill, Katy, We see your house in the glen, I'll go back the lane through the woods, lassie, Then we'll drive the cows again. r :C . 82 >r i&rs . RACING if HERE'S life and speed in the iron steed, As he roars and thunders along, There's woe and weal in the auto- mobile, As it swiftly glides with its song; But for real true racing And sport that is bracing, I'll take the gamey horse, Who with muscles of steel, And a soul that can feel, Flies over the race-track course. 83 V >', S'"' W' ©8 SING TO ME, ROBIN ING to me robin, thine own love song, I have been waiting the hours so long, Sing to me robin, the same sweet lays Ye sang to my heart in the golden days. Golden days, Golden days, Ye sang to my heart in the golden days. Sing to me robin, sweetly and low, Bring back the dreams of the years ago, 85 - Bring back the joy and comforting rest, Sing to me, sing from thine own love nest. Own love nest, Own love nest, Sing to me, sing from thine own love nest. ; - - 86 ■■ " ,■ . §& w$ "THE KURNEL" 'VE A good store of turf for the wintry weather, When the cold North winds blow and I sit by me hob; 87 Now bare are the oak trees and brown is the heather, Yet me comforts o'erflow when I smoke me old cob. If ever I think of me landlord and rent dues It is only to wish for a few extra bob; All the same I'm continted, readin' the weeks news, On each Sunday mornin' while smokin' me cob. I still now and then have a turn at the old reel, And it's often I go when at Ballydehob And swing Mrs. Murphy around like a fly- wheel, But me greatest of comforts is smokin' me cob. And so me days run from winter to summer, But whatever I do I am onto the job, I smile at misfortune, I've no cause to murmer If I have but a sixpence to fill me old cob. m } 88 THE SUNSET LAND UT OF this land at the close of day When sable shadows come creeping Over the waters so still and gray, To 'waken hosts that are sleeping. There bursts a vision of beauty rare, Flaming banners on mountains high, And crimson forests and valleys where Bright silv'ry mists go floating by. 89 Where is that beautiful land so fair, Reflecting such scenes of glory? Tell us, Oh! tell us ye wise men, where Is that land of ancient story? : - 90 :s: ? : '\ " : - GOING TO MARKET HAT queer things one hears in the market be sure," Said plump Mistress Careb to me; "These dear city folk are so smart don't ye know, 'Tis a sin to deceive them," said she. '-- "There's the magistrate's wife comes along and says she, 'Your fowls appear old I must say;' Oh, not as ye'd notice says I wid a smile, They always be young where they lay." 91 "Then along comes the wife of the parson, says she, 'How are eggs Mistress Careb, I pray?' Oh, very well thank you, Mistress Connor, says I, They've been fresh for many a day." "And here comes the priest, God bless you, says I, and says he, 'Your butter smells strong in a way;' Do ye think so, says I, but how can that be? It was made on the last week day." m THE LEGEND OF LOUGH BRAY HERE'S a legend 'mong the people Who live near lone Lough Bray, That they tell in broken whispers, Lest the fearful secret may Renew the shocking orgies seen ; When Hugh McShane O'Bryne Led his clan of heartless robbers forth To kill and slay and burn. They tell how in those bloody days On many a darksome night, 93 : •■!■: ='.: A man and woman could be seen Far up the mountain height, Their torches waving in the storm As the genii wave their wand, In warning to the ones below 'Gainst the wild and murd'rous band. And they tell how when the torches Of these Pookas lit the sky, The people of the plains below Would in greatest terror fly, And leave their homes and flocks and herds To the mercy of the band; Who then would rob them of their store, And devastate the land. At last there came a wilder storm Than the mountain glens had known, The winds blew fiercely on the cliff With hideous shriek and moan, The waters of the Lough below Were dashed into milk white spray, The mountains creaked and trembled In the direful awful fray; The while the Pookas danced and yelled And waved their torches high, Till caught by the whirling wind were borne To their spirit home in the sky. And those who dwell by the lonely Lough, Still tell a wondrous tale, Of how these sprites on darksome nights Yet ride in the tempests gale, And how by the vivid flash they see Their misty ghost-like forms, Still bear the flaming torches high On the breast of the raging storms. 94 mmmi THE BLIND FIDDLER E TELL of the fields all fresh and green, And the waving yellow corn, And depths of forest shade se- rene, 95 ' , : '■ That this cherished land adorn; But rocks and the barren shores of the sea To my sightless eyes, are as dear to me. My vibrant strings are tuned ye see. To the fruitful fields and glens, To murm'ring streams and songs of glee, As well as the damp dark fens; So rocks and the barren shores of the sea. To my sightless eyes, are as dear to me. I catch the soul of harmony, That paints the myriad forms, The mountain sides and rolling sea, And wild tempestuous storms; So rocks and the barren shores of the sea, To my sightless eyes, are as dear to me. 96 THE SILVERY BAY ERE we are a-sailing, Sailing o'er the bay, Sailing to the primrose fields In the month of May. Oh the breath of Spring-time Sweet with perfumes rare, Golden are the gorse plumes, Meadows green and fair. 97 • Wild birds gayly singing In the shady bowers, Elder trees o'er hanging Rich with budding flowers. Joyfully we're sailing* Sailing on our way, To the shady hillsides Where the violets stay. ':"■ : 98 m m THE EVICTED TENANT HEY'VE ta'en from us our home, dear Tom, It breaks me heart to go; 'Twas here ye brought me first a bride, here we've labored so; But cheer up lad And don't be sad, ve the childer yet, ye know. 99 We can stop by yonder hedge, Tom, The childer's bed the heather, While the hawthorn boughs will shelter us This cold and stormy weather; So cheer up lad And don't be sad, We'll not forsake each other. There are other homes on earth, Tom, And gardens rich with flowers, A dear thatched house that's ivy crowned And sweetly scented bowers; So cheer up lad And don't be sad, Such home will yet be ours. , ; ,■■_- Ye've heard them tell of the land, dear Tom, Where golden sun sets be, Where riches, wealth and happiness, Are the birth-right of the free; Then cheer up lad And don't be sad, There's a home for you and me. : 100 . " _ m m WELCOME O WAVES ELCOME, O waves of the ocean wide, Welcome your wild mad roar, Ye are a part of the self same tide That laves my native shore; And ye break at my feet, on this foreign strand, While I dream of that far away distant land I shall love forever more. 101 Roll on, O sea, earth's throbbing blood, And fling your salt spray o'er, Till I am drenched with the briny flood That has kissed my native shore; And bring on thy winds, in my own land born, The smell of the clover and ripening corn, The perfumes I adore. ■'-''' O mighty sea; thy generous waves Seek every waiting shore, And the boundless life, thy bosom heaves, Spreads joy the wide world o'er; So I greet thee, O sea, on whatever strand, For ye bring me a message from my home- land, A message from mv Asthore. --:-■ 102 ' - THE STREET COBBLER 'M OLD and gray," said the cobbler, And he smiled an artless smile; "I'm thinkin' of riches and com- fort, And wond'ring if they're worth while." 'I'm old and poor," said the cobbler, With a twinkle in his eye; 'And wondering who'll say the masses When I shall come to die." 103 I "I am thirsty," said the cobbler, With a very thirsty grin ; "But you wouldn't have the price sir, For a little stout or gin?" "I'm thanking you," said the cobbler, As he wandered 'cross the way; "What matters now if poor or rich, Or masses any-way." ■ i 104 & W ■''- 7 BY THE SEA E SAT by the sea when our love was new, And whispered the words that no one could hear; For the sea was calm, and it whispered too As we breathed to each other love so dear. Life was the water, clear and fair, We, the boats that were anchored there. We sat by the sea when our love was worn, And talked of our trials and troubles and grief, While the sea by tempest and wind was torn, 105 And the mad waves roared on a rock built reef. Life was the water, rough and high, We, the boats that were drifting by. We sat by the sea when our love was old, And whispered again, but with hearts now sore, And the sea was placid, but dark and cold, The billows were gone, for the storm was o'er. Life was the water, deep and wide, We, the boats on the ebbing tide. : . "' 106 >>" I 9 THE BLUE FLAME TURF UILD ye a fire with the blue flame turf And drive the dread banshees away; Then dream as ye watch the curl- ing smoke And your dreams will come true some day. If ye dream of your sweetheart's lovely face So sweet with the red flame of life, 107 H , Ye will surely meet in a fortnight's time And ye'll ask her to be your wife. If ye dream of your lover's tender looks And ye hear him mutter a sigh Ye will meet another within a week And will bid the first one good bye. If ye dream of your wife's bewitching smile And between ye there's no word said, Ye'll fight next day like Kilkenny cats And be nursing a broken head. . 108 ■., MEETING OF THE WATERS HERE the waters meet in the shadows And mingle their crystal flow, The stars in their virgin splendor Reflect their heavenly glow. And the moonbeams slyly creeping Through the thickly curtained bowers, Dance merrily on the waters In the stilly midnight hours. 109 What a joyous happy meeting, With these denizens afar, Each crystal drop of water Gayly kissing each bright star. mmMi^nm&m' 1 ' i§ IS ; ^' AT THE SHRINE COME from crowded busy ways of life, Where saddened faces tell of sinfulness, Where galling tears and longing wistful eyes Betoken hearts bereft of happiness. Strength do I need to meet life's daily cares, And power divine to meet life's sorrow; Oh grant that here sufficient help I find, To fit me for each new tomorrow. Ill Oh, sacred place where lowly contrite hearts Their solace find from sin's pollution, I come, to thee and bend the suppliant knee, And at thy shrine seek absolution. THE TENANT E MAY talk about castles, landlords and sich, And those who have plenty of golden store; 113 ,<..„ ■ But give me a cabin with only a thatch And I'll be content beside me own door. What more has the lord than what's on his back, Considering the food he's able to buy; I meself I'm thinkin' am richer by far, I've peace of mind and a pig in the sty. Away with your money, titles and all, Go ride to the hounds until you are sore; For me 'tis enough to have me old pipe And find rich contentment at me own door. ■a-;; 114 HKJffi»pK smm& & *'ftj«iovft .- ^^tsi IBm^" "*■■> ■ . : £.'■ f ~i ■£ ; tfi ■ ■ : ** ''-^mBm l^^p^ife'f'IM^pBB l^^3€'^^^^^SS %*%&&** *0 '■ ^^ WS&jIs^^'*'*-^'' S^HSfe^' -St^ : '^ PV -\ v^'~'^-Sds&* *$&$f$m ^^zL K--?' g 1!) 1 S KILLARNEY KNOW of a spot in Ireland That is very dear to me Tis the fairest in that fair land Tis the Lakes of Killarney. From my soul I send my greeting And in spirit I can see The crystal waters meeting At the Lakes of Killarney. 115 Mine eyes are dim with weeping When I think dear land of thee And that spot within thy keeping The fair Lakes of Killarney. Oh, I long for thee my home-land And I fain would cross the sea To forever live in Ireland By the Lakes of Killarney. 116 THE VILLAGE IVE me the life in the village street, The neighborly friendly smile On the faces of those I chance to meet, For only such life is worth while. Envy and strife are absent there, Contentment and peace abide, For the spirit is free from worldly care And the hearts are true and tried. 117 -■.'■■-' THE OLD SPINNING WHEEL WHIRL the wheel as old time whirls me. Till we're both as wobbly as wobbly can be; Yet there is that, in life's troublous storm 119 : ■ ■■-.- ■■ w H) §Hi That makes me smile at the way we perform ; For when the yarn is but poorly spun, I blame the old wheel for the mischief done. And spitefully then it throws off the band, And pesters me so on every hand, That I just indignantly stop and say, — "You're old and stubborn, so have your own way." Then I leave it a while to ponder and rest, And think of the things that I strongly detest, But again I return to my endless task, To find the old wheel in a different mask; It spins and spins as it used to do, And we're both so happy, and over our stew, That I sing an old song, an old love rhyme, While the wheel hums merrily all the time And I want to hug it, and a secret tell ; In spite of its faults I love it well. And so we spin, we two together, Spinning the yarn for the wintry weather. Yet sometimes I smile to myself to see, How foolish old things, over nothing, can be. 120 ir ^ GOING TO MASS IS A-TOP of the beast me Missus and me Ride over to mass every morn- in\ As proud as a Lord and a Lady could be, And the rest of the people a-scornin'. See me shape, and me stoile, with new knick- ers on, As straight as a peacock, begorra, And Missus behind with her new pillion Lookin' sweet as the rose of Aurora. 121 H /: -- ■■; The beast too, himself, is the envy of all, Ye'll not find his aquil in Kerry, He knows if we're goin' to church or a ball, By our bein' rale sober or merry. Ah, the King and the Queen have no better stoile Than the Murphys' who live in Killcown; Shure I'd not trade me place for the whole of his pile, Exceptin' he'd throw in his crown. 3? ■ : 122 HI - HOLY WELL OF AGHADA ET ME drink thy living waters, Cheer me with thy cooling flood, Cleanse me, heal me, loving foun- tain, Be in me life's richest blood; For I come to thee believing, As I pray, I am receiving. Let me touch thy sacred waters, That again I may be whole, 123 &S0 H m> I am broken, faint, disheartened, Heal my troubled doubting soul; For I come to thee believing, As I pray, I am receiving. Let me in thy healing waters, Lave my weary aching limb In thy sacred sparkling waters, Praying only unto Him Who hath said, "Have faith believing, As ye pray, ye are receiving." m 124 LIFE AND THE TOMB fO SOLEMN church-yards mark the end of all mankind, Is life a dream, an hour of toil and pain and bliss, Where at its close a narrow bed of earth we find, Where we may cherish evermore the farewell kiss? No; life is seed, the master sows and scatters wide; 125 i I 1 Some find the primal soil and some the stone and clod, Some perish, others gain the light and there abide And grow, still clutching earth until they are with God. The grave can never mark life's end nor its beginning, It but transforms the shapes that earth has given To those of more exalted state, when freed from sinning They find an entrance to the lofty courts of heaven. 126 (iB^\ Ww m Sm f^ W P B : THE IRISH EMIGRANT ' AREWELL blessed land and farewell forever, No longer thy charms attract me to thee; The last of my name lies cold in thy bosom, The land of the west calls me over the sea. My land of the shamrock is owned by an alien, The waters are his and denied unto me; 127 - m Though I love thee dear Erin, the home of my fathers, The land of the west calls me over the sea. Thy rich fertile valleys, thy fields ripe and golden, Engraved on my heart their beauty shall be; They were mine as a child, yet ever another's; The land of the west calls me over the sea. I shall miss thy bold cliffs, thy mountains of heather, The sails wide-spread on the beautiful Lee; The bay of the fox-hounds, the horn of the hunter, But the land of the west calls me over the sea. 'Tis there I at last shall meet my heart's long- ing, A spot of green earth unencumbered and free; A home, and Oh God; what that means to a tenant; The land of the west calls me over the sea. 128 .• ■ ,:.,<■ ■■■■■-, ■:vu:K<&wvm