And now this prophecy is come to pass,

Lilli, &c.

For T-but's (Talbot's) the dog, and Tyr-nel's (Tyrconnel's)* the ass, Lilli, &c.

DRIMMIN DHU.

An Irish Jacobite relic. Translated by SAMUEL FERGUSON, M.R.I.A.

"Drimmin Dhu" was a political password among the Irish Jacobites, and it is rather amusing here to find the Jacobite bard wrapping himself up in his cloak of mystery for the first three lines, and then coming out plump with

Expecting King James with the crown on his brow."

It reminds one of that intelligent sentinel who, being given the password, and desired to let no one enter within his guard who did not repeat it, told the first person who asked for admission, that he couldn't come in unless he said so-and-so--naming the very password.

AH! Drimmin Dhu deelish, a pride of the flow, †
Ah! where are your folks? Are they living or no?
They're down in the ground, 'neath the sod lying low,
Expecting King James with the crown on his brow,

But if I could get sight of the crown on his brow,
By night and day travelling to London I'd go;
Over mountains of mist and soft mosses below,
Till I'd beat on the kettle-drums, Drimmin Dhu, O!

Welcome home, welcome home, Drimmin Dhu, O!
Good was your sweet milk, for drinking, I trow;
With your face like a rose, and your dew-lap of snow,
I'll part from you never, ah, Drimmin Dhu, O!

There is a very sweet and plaintive air called "Drimmin Dhub," to which is sung an old Irish song called "The poor Irishman's lament for the loss of his cow, "Drimmin Dhub" signifying black-back, a pet name for the cow. In "Bunting's Ancient Music of Ireland" (Dublin, 1840), the following translation is given

"As I went out on a Sunday morning,

I found my Drimmin Dhu drown'd in a moss-hole;

I clapp'd my hands, and gave a great shout,

In hopes this would bring my Drimmin to life again."

I have heard other versions of this ditty, more modern, but equally absurd.

* In some versions it has been given-" and James is de ass."
†The soft, grassy part of a bog.

O! SAY, MY BROWN DRIMMIN.

An Irish Jacobite relic. Translated by J. J. CALLANAN.

Here is another form of the foregoing ballad. Points of resemblance are sufficiently apparent between them, but even in their original state they must have existed "with a difference," as Ophelia says, the latter version being more copious, and including proper names that could not have been introduced at the option of the translator. It seems to me this latter version comes from a better original than the preceding, as saying the people will arise "as leaves on the trees; "-and the mention of the "five ends of Erin," gives an air of old Irish idiom and old Irish lore to the production.

O! SAY, my brown Drimmin, thou silk* of the kine,
Where, where are thy strong ones, last hope of thy line?
Too deep and too long is the slumber they take;
At the loud call of freedom why don't they awake?

My strong ones have fallen-from the bright eye of day
All darkly they sleep in their dwelling of clay,
The cold turf is o'er them—they hear not my cries,
And since Lewist no aid gives, I cannot arise.

O! where art thou, Lewis? our eyes are on thee-
Are thy lofty ships walking in strength o'er the sea?
In freedom's last strife if you linger or quail,
No morn e'er shall break on the night of the Gael.

But should the king's son, now bereft of his right,
Come proud in his strength for his country to fight;
Like leaves on the trees, will new people arise,
And deep from their mountains shout back to my cries.

When the prince, now an exile, shall come for his own,
The isles of his father, his rights, and his throne,
My people in battle the Saxons will meet,

And kick them before, like old shoes from their feet.

O'er mountains and valleys they'll press on their rout,
The five ends of Erint shall ring to their shout;
My sons, all united, shall bless the glad day

When the flint-hearted Saxon they've chased far awav.

* Silk of the kine is an idiomatic expression in the Irish language to express superior

cattle.

†The king of France.

Ireland, now divided into four provinces, was anciently divided into five sections, or rather kingdoms.

R

THE BOYNE WATER.

Here are some fragments of what is supposed to be the original song whence the succeeding one of "The Battle of the Boyne" was taken. They possess more of the allad character, in simplicity of expression and accuracy of detail, than the later composition.

JULY the first, of a morning clear, one thousand six hundred and ninety,

King William did his men prepare, of thousands he had thirty;
To fight King James and all his foes, encamped near the Boyne

Water,

He little feared, though two to one, their multitudes to scatter. King William called his officers; saying, 'Gentlemen, mind your

station,

66

And let your valour here be shown, before this Irish nation;
My brazen walls let no man break, and your subtle foes you'll scatter,
Be sure you show them good English play, as you go over the water."

Both foot and horse they marched on, intending them to batter, But the brave Duke Schomberg he was shot, as he crossed over the

water.

When that King William he observ'd the brave Duke Schomberg

falling,

He rein'd his horse, with a heavy heart, on the Enniskilleners*

calling;

"What will you do for me, brave boys, see yonder men retreating,
Our enemies encouraged are-and English drums are beating ;"
He says, "My boys, feel no dismay at the losing of one commander,
For God shall be our King this day, and I'll be general under." +

*

Within four yards of our fore-front, before a shot was fired,
A sudden snuff they got that day, which little they desired
For horse and man fell to the ground, and some hung in their

saddles,

;

Others turned up their forked ends, which we call coup de ladle.
Prince Eugene's regiment was the next, on our right hand advanced,
Into a field of standing wheat, where Irish horses pranced-
But the brandy ran so in their heads, their senses all did scatter,
They little thought to leave their bones that day at the Boyne Water.

* It is interesting to find this early mention of a regiment that has since been so distinguished on many a battle-field. They fought triumphantly throughout the last Peninsular war, and against the Cuirassiers of Napoleon the First, at Waterloo; and their last achievement was at Balaklava, where (to use the words of our eloquent countryman, William Russell, the correspondent of the Times), in company with the Scots Greys and the Dragoon Guards of England, they swept through the solid masses of the Russian cavalry, like a flash of lightning.

This fine line is preserved in the later song.

Both men and horse lay on the ground, and many there lay bleeding, I saw no sickles there that day—but sure, there was sharp shearing.

Now, praise God, all true Protestants, and heaven's and earth's

Creator,

For the deliverance that he sent our enemies to scatter.
The church's foes will pine away, like churlish-hearted Nabal,
For our deliverer came this day like the great Zorobabel.

So praise God, all true Protestants, and I will say no further, But had the Papists gain'd the day, there would have been open murder.*

Although King James and many more was ne'er that way inclined, It was not in their power to stop what the rabble they designed. †

THE BATTLE OF THE BOYNE.

This is the version of the Battle of the Boyne which superseded the former, and is the one that is always sung.

JULY the first, in Oldbridge-town

There was a grievous battle,

Where many a man lay on the ground
By cannons that did rattle.

King James he pitched his tents between
The lines for to retire ;

But King William threw his bomb-balls in,
And set them all on fire.

Thereat enraged, they vowed revenge

Upon King William's forces,

And oft did vehemently cry

That they would stop their courses.

A bullet from the Irish came,

And grazed King William's arm,
They thought his Majesty was slain,
Yet it did him little harm.

* This also is imitated in the same.

+ This clearing of King James and the leaders of the opposite party from all intention of such barbarous doings as are imputed to the "rabble," is a stroke of generosity seldom seen in a party effusion, and much to be admired. How often have great names been stained by the misdeeds of their followers, which it was out of their power to prevent.

Duke Schomberg then, in friendly care,
His King would often caution
To shun the spot where bullets hot
Retained their rapid motion;
But William said, "He don't deserve
The name of Faith's Defender,
Who would not venture life and limb
To make a foe surrender."

When we the Boyne began to cross,
The enemy they descended;

But few of our brave men were lost,

So stoutly we defended;

The horse was the first that marched o'er,
The foot soon followed after

;

But brave Duke Schomberg was no more,
By venturing over the water.

When valiant Schomberg he was slain,
King William he accosted

His warlike men for to march on,
And he would be the foremost;
"Brave boys," he said, "be not dismayed
For the loss of one commander,
For God will be our King this day,
And I'll be General under."

Then stoutly we the Boyne did cross,
To give the enemies battle;
Our cannon, to our foes great cost,
Like thund'ring claps did rattle.

In majestic mein our prince rode o'er ;

His men soon followed after,

With blows and shout put our foes to the rout
The day we crossed the water.

The Protestants of Drogheda

Have reason to be thankful,

That they were not to bondage brought,

They being but a handful.

First to the Tholsel they were brought,

And tied at Millmount after ;*

But brave King William set them free,

By venturing over the water.

* To elucidate this line, it is necessary to refer to an assertion, which it is only fair to say was made by an anonymous writer, to the effect, that the Protestant prisoners in the hands of the garrison of Drogheda were tied together on the Mount, in Drogheda, that, in case of William bombarding the town, they must have been exposed to the fire. —Memoirs of Ireland, by the author of the Secret History of Europe, 1716; p. 221.