The Irish republic. [volume] (Chicago, Ill.) 1867-18??, 1867-06-15

But coldy she turns from their gaze and weeps,
For her heart in his grave is lying.
She sings the wild notes of her dear native plains
Every thought which he loved awakng-
All little they think who delight in her strains
How the heart of the minstrel is breaking
He had lived for his love, for his country he died.
They all that to life had entwned him;
Nor soon shall the tears of his country be dried,
Nor long will his love stay behind him.
Oh! make her grave where the sunbeams rest
When they promise glorious morrow,
They'll shine on her sleep like smiles from the west
Ger her own loved Island of Sorrow.
Modern literature might be searched in vain for per-
feet translation than the foregoing The rhyme the hythm,
the and the pathos preserved exactly that
might almost suppose the composer and translator Eng
ishmen-soheaded who write in the Pail Mall Co.
s and Saturday Rviewshould have this translation thrust
down their throas whenever they'd Gaelic barbarous
language.
Some has said that the songs of people have in
fuence them than history The saying certainly holds good
far ireland concerned Irish nationality of
its existence poetry Moore and Davis have made
Irish rebels than either Cromwell Judge Keogh Conquer
and peures may subdue and madden nation but neither
have the kill its songs The yrant and ruan die,
and their power ceases but the Spirit of Song lives forever
and influences generation after generation If the poetry of
Ireland could be killed. then, indeed might she to be
difficulty English statesmen. But supposing inn
possibility for the and the beautiful die and
long Irish hearts throb to the music of their glorious melo
dies so long there hope for their liberty and long will
they aspire to be free.
popularity of Celtic music is that is either very sad
very gay sadness is its distinguishing Characteristic
great sad hearing Irish melodies for the first
me "Tha the music of people who have lost their lib
erty Moore with beauty of expression rarely equalled has
told the whole in four lines of Dear Harp of my Coun
try
The warm lay of love and the light note of gladness
Had Weakened thy loudest, thy lveliest thrill
But oft has it echoed the deep sigh of sadness,
That in thy mirth it will steal from thee STILL"
Sad indeed has been the lot of the children of the Gael No
that their poetry should be great song of
Of all branches of the Caucasian they have been the
steadily unfortunate Those of sorrow not
fined alone to Ireland for they the strains which the
Scotch Highlander laments the desoon of his country and
the ruin his race The Banks and Braes bonny DOOM
We more* havea strange chronological affinity
with the Cooiu" and the Lamenaton of Aughrim" All
express depth of sentiment that might imagine the
very nanmate things of earth would weep hear them But
certainly they have very little effect the "cod-hearted
Saxon" The Grampans Sieve Mon may weep at the
swanke strains, but Jolly John Bull" looks on quite un
moved and reoces that the Celts "gone with
geance Take care, John; they may be "gone for ven
geance Remember the story of Mazeppa He bound
the back of wild horse perish the wilderness.
You driving away the children of the Gael naked and
bleeding perhaps you sending them "acro desert to
throne"
As have remarked Celtic music and poetry either very
sad very joyous They often both almost at the same
time Like the that made them they full of regu
lare amounting almost to contradictions An itneran Irish
musician may be often playing melody with every feature
of his expressing the depth and intensity of his feeling
and looking very personcaon of sentiment and sadness
The next instant he rattles off into jig pnxy, his
fairly twinkle with merrment and his whole department would
cha tasi mi tul" Scotch Gaelic the the
they country forever order that be
multiplied cockneys amused.