The Irish standard., 1891-10-31
WHAT DO The IRISH SING!
The Irish Melodies Are Enough
for Any Nation to Be .
Proud Of.
MooRE's TOUCHING VERSION.
Songs Full Of Courage and Glad
Anticipation for Ireland's
Future.

| In the course OF an article IN The
Irish Ecclesiastical Record, the Very
Rev. Canon Arthur Ryan of Thurles,
says:-'Trash mostly, and treason will
be mary an Englishman's reply. Not
SO, perhaps, he has had the fortune Of
reading in the Nineteenth Century OF
some years ago Sir J. Pope HennessY IS
answer to the question, What do the
Irish read?' This distinguished Irish
man has in his article printed, perhaps,
little treason; but no trash, as all must
confess. save those who are judges
neither of trash nor tire ason. I hope
many Engllshmer, and many Of my
own countrymen Who have shared With
me the disadvantages of an education
in England, have read that admirable
article and have laid to heart its lesson,
very serious one [ may be pardoned,
since it is very much to my purpose. it
I give the following extract. A Nuns
ter parish priest ~ speaking.
If you 60 by the test Of literary taste
and knowledge, those workingmen of
the country reading rooms and those
shop boys and clerks Of the city are no
longer the lower classes, The young
gentlemen educated at O5cott or Stony
hurst Of pious fathers and moth
ers-young gentlemen who may be seen
in the smoking room Of this Munster
Club, or at the races. or emulatlng the
style OF some Of the military mashers-
these are not nowadays from literary
point Of view our upper or middle class
youth. +
Then follows long list Of the books
now most popular in the reading rooms,
comprising the works--most)y bistoTi-
cal and hiographical-of McGeogh
McGee, Duffy, Macaulay, Justin McCar-
thy, Lecky, Mitchell. Sullivan, Mcguire.
and so forth. A contrast this, to the
''masher' list, where Ouida, Zola, and
their 'rubesco refereas,' George Moore
bear away their unblushing honors.
But it is not of Irish reading that wish
to treat in this article, but OF Irish
singing, We have always been allowed
the credit Of being musical. IT it were
asked on what grounds this credit rest
ed, the answer would probably be, 'Oh,
the Irish Melodiss-Moore's Melodies;
they are enough for any nation to be
proud of. Of course the Irish are mu: j.
cal Well. we do not disclalm Moore's
Melodies. They are--both the words OF
the modern poet, and the ancient airs
which those words have at once enfeeb-
led and immortalized-a collection of
national lyrics which we challenge the
world to equal. But they are not the
songs Of which Irishmen are proudest
or fondest. They are not the songs
that are oftenest sung by the people.
a few of them are truly and deserved]y
popular: but by far the greater number
of them are already forgotten as songs,
and survive only as lyrics. The truth
is they were never racy Of irish soil.
Some Of them, indeed, will make the
Irish heart beat fast to the end of time,
but most of them live only as sweet bal
lads matchless IN fancy and felicitous
expression, but wanting, as their author
was, in that honest fire and truth and
courage that alone can lastingly move
a nations heart. Irish literateurs Will
ever praise them; but irish voices will
choose, and have already chosen, the
songs of better if not more gifted men.
Moore himself, 10 lines themselves
most touching, and welded to an air
perhaps the sweetest OF all the Irish
melodies, has told us the secret Of bis
charm and of his failure. Dear Harp
of my Country is his tender good bye
to the work of fitting words to Irish
music. ApostrophisinR his own island
Harp" he sings
gladness
Have wakened thy fondest, thy liveliest
thrill
But so oft hast thou echoed the deep sigh
of sadness
lnat even u tny mHtA II Will steal nom
thee still.
That sadness Of Moore was the sad
ness of despair. In the inner life OF
Ireland the sweetest lyrist Of her sad
dest wrong took little interest. True
he has written I'm his mirth we may
suppose those prophetic words SO often
fnndly reneate(l in Ireland.
: The nations have fallen, and thou stin
art young.
Thy sun is rising. when others are Get;
And though slavery's clouds DER thy morn.
ing hath hung, .s
Tne full moon Of freedom shall bean,
round thee yet, s$
Erin, Ertnl though 'l5 long Il the shade,