The Sun.
London, England, 1849-07-10 00:00:00

MIGIZINES, &1.-(CONTINUED.)

DUBLIN UNIVERSITY.

The papers comprising the number of this able
periodical for the present month are of a very high
order. The first is an elaborate critical analysis of
air. Ruskins' interesting and learned. work, " The
Seven Lamps of Architecture." The other literary
notices are written in a fair and candid spirit, doing
justice alike to the author, the critic, and the public :
" The Virgin Victims"—" Iphigenia"—" Jephtlaa's
Daughter," a poem of considerable length, in two
parts, of great poetical merit, glowing with true in-
spiration, and high and pure feeling. We cannot
avoid treating our readers to a stanza or two from
" Jeplitha's Daughter," though perhaps not the highest
specimens of poetical excellence we could select,
but they seem to us simple, touching, and beautiful
" And yet I know not—surely Life is sweet!
Life—it is Love it,-4 Light.
Lie--'tis to wander on with buoyant feet
Wherever Earth is bright.
To know sweet labours, sweeter still reposes,
To look on sunlight, and to smell the roses.
Life—it is crowed' wi,h flaw; rs, and full of eyes
-That we know well. and pleasant memories!
And woman's life
Ba Meth thro' all its springs, and ripeneth
That it may have some fruit, or ever death
13/tiseth his sharp-edged knife.
The soaring mountains, and the sounding sea,
What are their songs, but life and liberty ?
Life, shouts the storm—
Li'e, screams the Eagle—Lire, th' unfolded flowers
I.IIY e pencilled on their petals by the showers
And sun, where'er they form.
"Yes, but there's more, for Life hath other things,
It it bath love, hath hate—
If it bath pleasant walks, bath wanderings
Or mountains desolate.
Life, it bath weariness, and much vexation,
And mid-stream strife, with no sweet alternation,
And seldom sunlights—and decaying blossoms—
And loves, deep-sepulchred in selfish bosoms,
And Life bath also many quench'd eyes,
Missed one by one, and restless memories
That walk among the dead;
They seek for comfort, finding none—so cold,
Lies on the long black hair the heavy mould.
Ocean and hills, disquieted,
Grow weary in old age—the Eagles bear
Life like a burden up the mountain air,
And flowers men rudely- crush,
E'cn where they live their little happy lives,
Betray'd, because they blush,"
The notice of the interesting life and writings of the
late Professor Butler, of Trinity College Dublin, is
worthy the reader's attention. " Ceylon and the
Cingalese" is continued in its usual graphic, amus-
ing, and instructive style ; "The Opium Clipper, an
Atter Dinner Yarn," is light and characteristic. The
paper which demands our attention is a satrical poem
"Dublin," in imitation of the third Satire of Juvenal.
This poem, though requiring a few additional turn-
ings of the stylus, and though somewhat rugged in the
versification, possesses much merit, and has a dash of
spirit and boldness current through it which rather
pleases us; but we have some little more to do with
this poem than its mere literary merit. We feel the
author has done us great injustice in placing us in
the category of the anti-Irish press ; the shaft of the
satirist should be pointed with truth, otherwise it
falls blunted and useless to the earth, utterly power-
less either to serve a friend or to hurt an enemy ; we
feel that the arrow which has been shot at us bas

3 passed by like the idle wind which we regard not."
For upwards of half a century has The Sun been the
successful champion► of humanity and liberty, and
long, ere this young aspirant for poetical fame
emerged from the " black north," ere yet
His infant lungs inhaled Dungannon's air,"

The Sun was, as it still is, thy~ warm advocate
of the rights and liberties of Ireland ; perhaps, after
all, we were but pressed into the author's service for
the mere purposes of versification ; a few extracts
may perhaps amuse some of our readers.
"1, I admit, make not the least pretence
To frank the fallacies of common sense;'
Can't comprehend, and truly never could,
How Absenteeism does any good ;
Nor how, just now, if Court and Parliament,
Lords, Ladies, Commoners, and Madams went
To live at Petersburgh, the Cockney folk
Should take it as an economic joke.

Worse still, I never yet could bear the jest
Would make me ' evil bird ' in my own nest,
Nor simpering cry How Irish,' when some tool
Has haply broken Hoyle's or Priscian's rule.

In Ireland, now, would Irishreen advance,
Who but your supple, servile, has a chance ?

Nor hero alone the selfabasing game
Prospers. In London, with e'en less of shame,
As more of profit, 'tis pursued by all
•
The servile Irish of the eapital.
Yes, I confess, that crew degenerate
Are they of men I most abominate ;
Nor shall one touch of tenderness debar
My 'minting them the rascals that they are.
'l'is not alone low Dodder disemhogues
Its Brook's dull sediment of bulls cud brogues;
Lee, Shannon, Liffey, with united streams,
All bear their foal contingents to the Thames.

•
Nor only is the pLraFitic part •
In Lo:ters pi. ed. It scandalises Art; •
Oh, shut the book—on shoots degraded cease
To trace the shame anl genius of Maclise.
Turn from the scoffing page your.s.,ddeted eyes,
Where taste and feeling make self-sari-Rice,
And mvazre,Trap„ue presents his rugged foil
To the smooth Briton, in the sketch of Doyle:
Doyle whose fine pencil g:nerously applied,
• Moves-free:as beauty in hir.virgin pride;
Put to home mockm,s et detraction's suit,
Stumbles and shrinks,. a conscious prostitute.
Ah! youths, .before the gifted bend you lift
To strike your mother, think who gave the gift;
Nor scorn the land, tho' poor she b., and far,
That nursed the genius' makes you what you are.

Yes—lrish all the men who chiefly mar
P. or pleading at Great Britain's bar.
enti•lrish pr. ss, an Irish host
Itself', Sun, Standard, Herald, Morning Post.
In fine, who with seditious dirt begr:mes
Poor Iceland in she leaders of the Times
Up•closes with the prompt diurnal he
The opening hand of English charity.
Gloats o'er our crimes, and laughs our woes to
scorn?
A servile Irish scoundrel, bred and born!"
This number closes with a powerful and argumenta-
tive paper on the necessity of Church Reform. It is
evidently written by a true friend of the Church, the
admitted and palpable abuses of which he would wish
to remove with the least possible danger to its sta-
bility. There is one matter to which he refers, call-
ing loudly for reformation, ." the unequal distribution
of Church property." It is monstnAis to contemplate
the enormous sums applied to the building of episco-
pal palTes, while in many dioceses the working
clergyman scarcely receives as much as the labourer
employed in raising these gorgeous structures.