The Irish standard., 1901-02-23
A FAMOUS MOUNTAIN.
4 Priest Takes It's Irish Name as 4
N0m-de-Plum0.

N0m-de-Plums.
Rev. ]. B. Dollard, the patriotic poet
priest, writes as follows in the New
York Gael for February under the
caption Of Thoughts on Gray Noun
tain:
l have been often asked why chose
"Sliav-na-mon" for pen-name, the
name of that beautiful! mountain Of
mist and sunshine, which is the pride
and glory Of my lovely valley Of the
SUR. There are very many reasons,
and when sent my first poem to the
Boston Pilot, didn't take moment
to deliberate on what l should sign
underneath it. Yet, after all, what had
to do with Sliav.na-mon? Sliav-na-
mon is in the county Tipperary, and
was born in county Kilkenny, 16 or II
miles away from it. l have never been
closer than four miles to it, and never
had the pleasure of standing upon it's
summit.
in air, in solitary magnificence, domi-
mating the Golden Vale," and over
looking the sinuous curves of the
"Sweet River Suir," was no inconspic-
uous object from my native village.
1t was sufficiently remote for one Of
an imaginative turn of mind to fancy
tp1 rfo;, 1et
Of fairyland, and the mountain in it's
varying moods lent itself lovingly to
the illusion. In the wonderful Irish
atmosphere, what varied tints and
shades it assumed, now azure blue
like the vault of heaven, now deeper
hued like the unbuurdcd ocean; anon
notwithstanding ard cloud-veilcd, and
again bright-smiling in the suns warm
caresses showing vesture of green
field, brown hcatlcr-belt and golden
crowning gorse. And Sliav-na-mon
was ever associated in my boyish mind
with the shadowy past of Erin. 1t
seemed to me to be not only the chosen
dwelling place of the good people,, y
but also the home of the mighty
shades of Cuclulainn, Finn and heroic
"Oisin of the golden locks"
The slow-moving mists on it's broad
breast We're the Fcnian hosts and the
"Red Branch knights, sweeping OIL
ward in resistlcss battle array. and the
reyerberating thunder peal was the
shock Of the onset and the rattle of the
bucklcr and shield.
The old mountain looks down into
"Cashel of the Kings and what scenes
of splcndor and wrrlike pomp it must
have viewed in Erin's Golden, golden
days. the mastering Of the Dalcas-
sian and Eugenian battalions-the roy
al splendor OF the kings Of Erin-their
contests, their fcats and revelries
whereat Il hundred harps clashed in
swelling diapason.
1t has viewed the march of Brian
Of the Tribute" and his matchless
troops from Kincora surging onward
to the red havoc of ClOntarf Later
on, the turbulent Normans, De Burgo,
Of Clanricard, Butler, of Ormond, and
the Geraldnes, of kildare, fought
doughty battles, and reduced proud
fOrtresses on the broad plains spread
ing below; and "Murrough the Burn
er" passed leaving behind Il black and
desolatc trail
"Murrough the Burner, from Croomc
to Connaught
see the smoke of your conquest rise
Maddened with slaughter, your kernc
and bonnaght
Alright our valleys with murdcrous
cries,
Law Laidhir Abu!
The dumb beast c'cn from their pres.
ence flies
Law Laidhir Abu!"
Sliav-namon had charms for me not
only on account of it's wealth of an.
cient story and legend, but it was hal
lowed and consecratcd in my eyes by
it's intimate associations with the gen.
tie poet, the pure-souled patriot and
martyr, Charles J. Kickham. He was
born at the "mountain foot" and well
he loved old Sliav-na- mon with the
great love which included all his native
land and it's people.
His little ballad Of "rhe Irish Peas.
ant Girl" cnshrines his name for all
time in the Irish heart:
"She lived beside the Amer
At the foot Of Sliav-n mon,
A gentle peasant girl
With mild eyes like the dawn"
So whedever l looked on the blue
mountain l remembered Charles Kick.
ham and his life truly given for Ire
land. And "Knocllnagow," his great
novel, furnished me with friends and
acquaintances wherewith to people the
distant misty valleys nesting around
it's base.
10 have a good, true, sympathetic
and unexaggerated description of life
in the South of Ireland one has but tc
read "Knocknagow." 1t is the best
Irish novel have ever read and gives
the truest idea of Irish life. Being q