The Anderson intelligencer. [volume] (Anderson Court House, S.C.) 1860-1914, 1879-06-12
ERlN'S IMMORTAL BARD.
Centennial Celebration OF the Birth OF Tom
Moore.
Charleston News ard Courier

Moore.
Charleston Ners ard Courier.
The Centennial Of Ireland's great bard
was celebrated with fitting honors at
Hibernian Park yesterday, by the open
ing. of the annual two days festival
under the auspices of the Park Associa-
tion. The Park was we'll filled with
pleasure.seekers, and in the afternoon,
when the centennial address was deliy-
cred, goodly number Of the fair sex,
ana OF the sterner sex, too, gathered
under the grand old oaks, which shade
the Park, to hear the praises of Tom
Moore sung by as gallant soldier and
as silyer.tongued al orator rs ever owed
his origin to the land of Emmett and
Moore
Capt. b. F. McCabe, in an appropriate
| alluson to the event, introduced Col.
James Armstrong, the orator of the day.
who spoke us follows:
To-day in many lands the scattered but
devoted children of dear Erin meet to.
| gether to commemorate the centennial of
| Thomas Moore.
Here on this bright, glad May day,
beneath this summer splendor Of foliage
and sunshine, waving banners of green
and gold-where the symbolic harry is
seen, and where brave and true, fresh
and pure hearts throb in unison with
this event, and are thrilled with the
gladdening memories it awakens-we
swell the great chorus which arises from
countless thousands in recalling the
genius and patriotism of Ireland's chosen
Bard.
The very name Of Tom Moore should
engender thought and inspire sentiment.
The rich sunshine of his song dispelled
the mists from the smiling valleys, and
made gladsome the sparkling streams of
his native land, which he devoted the
depth, the tenderness, the beauty and
strength of his genius. He loved Ire
land with an ardor and enthusiasm that
only death could extinguish. 1t is not
my province to assign lis true place in
the galaxy Of poets. I have neither the
time nor talent to prove that he reached
a proud heighth on Parnassus. The
British reviewers said that he possessed
fancy, but no genius. The same writer
denied to Robert Emmett the virtue of
patriotism. "Lilla Rookh" everywhere
sparkles with the richest and rarest gems
OF poetic thought, and possesses q radi-
! ance of grandeur as brilliant as the stars.
Thongh the scene is ls;d IL TIC East, the
wrongs OF Ireland suggested and inspired
his matchless verse. He never believed
that success alone can make the patriot
misfortune always makes the rebel.
With what beauty and force he express.
es it:
Rebellion foul, dishonoring word,
,, Whose wrongful blight SO oft has stained
me ne hoiiest cause that tongue or sword
Of mortal ever lost or gain'd.
How many spirit born TO bless,
Hath sunk beneath that whitening name,
Whom but days, an hours success
Had waited to eternal fame"
But, my friends, it is his sweet and
enchanting melodies that 1 love to re-
call. They conjure up delightful associ-
atlons and tender recollections of by-
gone times, and revive those golden
hours of youth which many Of you
passed by the verdant slopes of the SUR,
the Lify, the Barrow, the Blackwater,
the Foyle, the Lee, ana the Shannon.
Delightful old Christopher North said
that 'ot all the song writer's that ever
warbled or chanted, or sung the best, in
our estimation, is verify none other than
Thomas Moore" Many of his songs,
my friends, are both sad and sweet
| sweet as the music Of her purling rills-
sad as the signing of the winds through
her valleys. You heard them along with
the breathing of a mothers love. and
they were followed with the whisper of a
mothers prayer. They strike the tender
est chord in the harp of the Irish breast,
for they seem as voice waited from the
dear Island home, "Home, Sweet Home"
whose grand and beautiful image is still
fresh and green in memory. The mois-
tened eye, the quivering lip, the silent
prayer prove
'Wert thou all that wish thee great, glorious.
First aow,r Of the earth, and first gem of the sea-
might hail thee with prouder, with happier brow
Bat, oh! could love thee more deeply than now ?
mo, thy chains they rankle thy blood as it runs
But make thee more painfully dear to thy sons--
whose hearts, like the young Of the desert-birds S
Drink love In each life-drop that flows from thy
breast"
Moore was one of Emmett's early
friends and warm admirers. How ten
derly he speaks of the gifted young
martyr:
Oh! breathe not his name let It sleep in the shade,
sad silent, and dark be the tears that wo ,hed,
As the night dew that falls on the grass Ger his
head.
but the night dew that fails, though In silence 1t
Shall brighten with verdure the grave where he
sleeps;
tcai thae tnOuBn In secret IL rolls,
shall long keep his memory green in our souls
How grandly he tells of the former
greatness and renown of Ireland:
LET Erin remember the days OF DID,
Ere her faithlcss sons betray her;
When Malachi wore the collar of gold
Which he won from the proud invader;
When her Kings, with standard Of green unfurled,
Led the Red Branch knights TO danger;
Ere the Emerald gem OF the Western world
Was set In the clown Of q stranger"
Washington Irving has furnished a
most felicitous and touching sketch of
the ill-fated loves of Emmett and Sarah
Curran, and Moore has embalmed it in
immortal verse:
'she is far from the land where her young hero
sleeps,
But coldly she turns from their gaze and weeps,
For her heart in his grave is lying.
"IIe had lived for his love- for his country nc died
They were all that to life had entwined him,
Nor soon shall the tears OF HIS country be dried,
FOR long Will his love stay behind him.
"oh make her grave whero the sunbeams rest,
,,, Where they promise glorious morrow;
They'll shine DER her Sleep like q smile from the
| West,
From her own loved Island of sorror.n
Fletcher, of saltoun, said: "If man
were permitted to make all the ballads,
he need net care who should make the
Laws of {. nation" While Moore may
have at times basked in the sunshine OF
Court favor and entertained gay and cul-
tivated English circles with his charming
| and aentim anfaI 1vrira xuhap he ,,rota ~