The Irish standard., 1891-10-31

| But deepen the long night of sorrow and
mourning
That dark o'er the kingdom of earth is returning,
l. And darkest of all. hapless Erin DER thee.
Such unhealthy hopelessness, even
thus exquisitely sung, could not stand
against the young fresh voices that
were then proclaiming Ireland's second
spring. Sad for the past-those voices
would not have been Irish if that minor
strain had not been in them, they were
even full of courage and glad anticipa~
tion for their count1y's future. From
end to end Of Ireland, to this day are
heard the songs which, more than
speech or manifesto, reused the people
to that self-reliance and trust in the
final prevalence OF justice which brought
the nation safe through the darkest
| hour of her history.
! I do not know a mole popular or a
more pathetic ballad than Davis's An
ME Dear'-a mournful love song mp to
the very last verse, when the rebel
lover passlonatelv weeps his double be
reavement-of wife and country:
| Far better by thee lying,
Their bayonets defying,
Than live an exile sighing.
Annie dear!
| But there are other songs as popular
as any by Davis, which were written in
! the days when the cause OF Irish nation
ality was supported by uhe most gifted
and pure souled of Irish thinkers and
which are sung now by those who still
stand by that cause. 'Sliabh Cuilnn'
! was the signatory to some Of the most
stirring Of all the AS songs, as they are
called. He died recently, after having
held the exalted position Of judge; but
we may safely say that his countrVmen
will remember 'Sliabh Cuilnn' when the
honest judge and refined man of letters
is forgotten. The songs, Yourselves
Alone sounds much more like that of
q Land Lacquer than of a judge Of the
Land Court:
| Remember, when Cur lot was worse
| Sunk trampied to the dust;
| Twas long Our weakness and our curse
! In stranger aid to trust.
And it, at length, we proudly trod
On bigot laws o'erthrnWn,
| Who won the struggle? Under God,
Ourselves Ourselves alone.
I'm the troubled days of Fenianism a
poor peasant was brought before a
county court judge in the North of Ire"
| land, to answer the charge OF singing a
seditious song. The song was read in
court. Its strongest verse ran thus:
| My boyish ear still! clung to hear
| Of Erins pride of yore.
! Ere Norman foot had dared pollute
| Her indendent shore;
Of chief long dead, who rose to head
| Some gallant patriot few,
Till all my aim on earth became
To strike one blow for YOU,
| Dear Land
| To strike one blow for you.
tt was 'Sliabh Cul]inn's' song of
Young Ireland days that the prisoner
had sung. But why does che judges
kindly voice falter in passing Sentence.
Can he be the writer? All. my Lord,
Tempora mutantur ct nos mutamur in ills.
I have heard that, though the sedi-
tion was held proved, the poor singer
went free; for the Judge, men say. was
himself scarcely pen1tent, and his heart
remained what it always was.
No rebel song ever had such, a success
in Ireland as Ingram's famous ballad,
Who fears to speak of Ninety Eight?
The writer holds now an h0nored posi-
tion in Trinity College. Dublin-an IN
stitutlon which, in spite of extraordi-
nary adverse influences, has ever been
the nursery of sturdy and intelligent
national spirits. There is scarcely a 80.
cial board in Ireland at which that
voice from odd Trinity has not been
heard; and only those who know the
power OF such song in Ireland can un-
derstand the strength Of this single link
between the Protestant University and
the hearts of the Catholic people. There
| is q hope shall I call it q belief-cher-
ished silently in Ireland that a day OF
resurrection is not far off, when the
promise of such songs will be realized.
and when it will appear that the Irish
]! hearts that beat in hostile camps were
never really far apart, never entirely
false to the noble STRINGS Of former
happier days.