ts more effectual prohibition. This, the only statute made in Ireland that names the Coulin, was passed two hundred and forty-two years before the act cited by Mr. Moore; and, in consequence of it, some of the Irish Chieftains who lived near the seat of English government, or wished to keep up intercourse with the English districts, did, in or soon after that year, 1295, cut off their Coulins, and a distinct memorial of the event was made in writing by the officers of the Crown. It was on this occasion that the bard, ever adhesive to national habits, endeavoured to fire the patriotism of a conforming chieftain ; and, in the character of some favourite virgin, declares her preference for her lover with the Coulin, before him who complaisantly assumed the adornments of foreign fashion.Dublin Penny Journal.

THE last time she looked in the face of her dear,
She breathed not a sigh, and she shed not a tear;

But she took up his harp, and she kissed his cold cheek-
"'Tis the first and the last for thy Norah to seek."

For beauty and bravery Cathan was known,
And the long flowing coulin he wore in Tyrone;
The sweetest of singers and harpers was he,
All over the North, from the Bann to the sea.

O'er the marshes of Dublin he often would rove,
To the glens of O'Toole, where he met with his love;
And at parting they pledged that, next Midsummer's day,
He would come for the last time, and bear her away.

The king had forbidden the men of O'Neal,
With the coulin adorned, to come o'er the pale;
But Norah was Irish, and said, in her pride,
"If he wear not his coulin, I'll ne'er be his bride."

The bride has grown pale as the robe that she wears,
For the Lammas is come, and no bridegroom appears;
And she hearkens and gazes, when all are at rest,
For the sound of his harp and the sheen of his vest.

Her palfrey is pillioned, and she has gone forth
On the long rugged road that leads down to the North ;-
Where Eblana's* strong castle frowns darkly and drear,
Is the head of her Cathan upraised on a spear.

The Lords of the Castle had murdered him there,
And all for the wearing that poor lock of hair:
For the word she had spoken in mirth or in pride,
Her lover, too fond and too faithful, had died.

'Twas then that she looked in the face of her dear,
She breathed not a sigh, and she dropped not a tear;
She took up his harp, and she kissed his cold cheek:
"Farewell! 'tis the first for thy Norah to seek."

* Eblana, Dublin,

And afterward, oft would the wilderness ring,

As, at night, in sad strains, to that harp she would sing
Her heart-breaking tones-we remember them well-
But the words of her wailing no mortal can tell.

Mr. Malone has caught the true spirit of the ballad in these lines, so touchingly commemorative of an historic epoch, and the two leading notes given above are rather curious. We may further notice, here, the singularity in the changes of fashion. We see, from the above, that short hair was enjoined in those days as a mark of loyalty, whereas short hair in 1798 was the mark of a rebel. See "The Croppy Boy," and "A Prospect," in this volume,

There is an antique character in this song, and the refrain

"Hark, the foe is calling,

Fast the woods are falling,"

strengthens the idea of its being of an early date; for in the early days of the invasion of Ireland, the woods, which then abounded, were used for shelter and concealment; hence they were objects of wholesale destruction to the invaders, and this often proved a source of national lament. One of the very old Irish airs, full of plaintive melody and a certain antique quaintness, is called "The Woods are cutting."

Here are two remarks on the subject, even as late as Elizabeth's time:

"A flying enemy, hiding himself in woods and bogs, from whence he will not draw forth but into some strait passage, or perilous ford, where he knows the army must needs pass; there will he lie in wait, and, if he find advantage fit, will dangerously hazard the troubled soldier."

"I wish that order were taken for cutting and opening all places through woods: so that a wide way, of the space of one hundred yards, might be laid open in every of them."— Spenser's View of the State of Ireland.

THE CHAIN OF GOLD.

SAMUEL LOVER. From "Songs and Ballads."

The Earl of Kildare, Lord-Deputy of Ireland, ruled justly, and was hated by the small oppressors whose practices he discountenanced. They accused him of favouring the Irish, to the detriment of the king's interest; but he, in the presence of the king (Henry VII.), rebutted their calumnies. They said, at last, "Please your Highness, all Ireland cannot rule this Earl." "Then," said Henry, "he is the man to rule all Ireland." And he took the golden chain from his neck, and threw it over the shoulders of the Earl, who returned with honour to his government.

Он, Moina, I've a tale to tell,
Will glad thy soul, my girl;

The King hath giv'n a chain of gold
To our noble-hearted Earl.

His foes they rail'd, the Earl ne'er quail'd,
But with a front so bold,

Before the King did backward fling

The slanderous lie they told;
And the King gave him no iron chain,
No-he gave him a chain of gold!

Oh, 'tis a noble sight to see,

The cause of truth prevail;
An honest cause is always proof
Against a treach'rous tale.

Let fawning false ones court the great,
The heart in virtue bold,

Will hold the right in pow'rs despite
Until that heart be cold:

For falsehood's the bond of slavery;
But truth is the chain of gold!

False Connal wed the rich one,
With her gold and jewels rare,
But Dermid wed the maid he lov'd,
And she clear'd his brow from care.

And thus, in our own hearts love,
We may read this lesson plain-
Let outward joys depart love,
So peace within remain :
For falsehood is an iron bond,

But love is the golden chain!

In a later day there was another Earl of Kildare went over on a similar piece of business, but the affair did not turn out so well. A false report was spread, by the enemies of the Geraldines, that the Earl had been committed to the Tower of London and beheaded. Whereupon his son, Lord Thomas, known as "Silken Thomas," broke out into rebellion, which ended as his enemies wished.

ROISIN DUBH.*

Translated from the Irish, by THOMAS FURLONG.

"Roisin Dubh, (Little Black Rose,) is an allegorical ballad, in which strong political feelings are conveyed, as a personal address from a lover to his fair one. The allegorical meaning has been long since forgotten, and the verses are now remembered and sung as a plaintive love ditty. It was composed in the reign of Elizabeth of England, to celebrate our Irish hero, Hugh Ruadh O' Donnell, of Tyrconnell. By Roisin Dubh, supposed to be a beloved female, is meant Ireland. The toils and sufferings of the patriot soldier are throughout described as the cares and feelings of an anxious lover addressing the object of his affection. The song concludes with a bold declaration of the dreadful struggle which would be made before the country should be surrendered to the embraces of our hero's hated and implacable rival. The air is a good specimen of the characteristic melancholy which pervades Irish music."-Hardiman's Irish Minstrelsy, vol. i., p. 254.

OH! my sweet little rose, cease to pine for the past,
For the friends that come eastward shall see thee at last;
They bring blessings and favours the past never knew,
То
pour forth in gladness on my Roseen Dhu.

Long, long, with my dearest, thro' strange scenes I've gone,
O'er mountains and broad valleys I still have toil'd on;
O'er the Erne I have sailed as the rough gales blew,
While the harp pour'd its music for my Roseen Dhu.

Tho' wearied, oh! my fair one! do not slight my song,
For my heart dearly loves thee, and hath loved thee long;
In sadness and in sorrow I shall still be true,

And cling with wild fondness round my Roseen Dhu.

* Pronounced Roseen Dhu, in which form of spelling I think it preferable to leave it, for the sake of those who are not Irish scholars.