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Cik charfaidh orm <cht stuadh-bhean

Há grukige geille, finne breadh', Uzus Kdhbhar bínsín buKinte Kicí

De'n luachair budh gheille bláth.

21 chailín beág na luachra,

An léigfá do bheart Kip Kr,
Ho án S-tiocfa liom knn ukizneks,

Faoi bhruach nk coille is glaise bláth. Tazkirt ní bh-faighidh rzeul «ir,

na Kon neach d'a bh-fuil le faghail, Zo d-tiocfkidh ckint do'n chéirreich,

A's beurk do'n lon-dubh bhreádh.

A chailín beág na luachra,

Gkc sukimhneas K'r fan go peidh, 41 cáil duit a bheith chomh h-uKibhreach,

Ann uaigneas «'s tu lekt féin. Ma scaip mé do chuid luKchrá,

Is dual go bh-fuil cuid tar héis, bainfead bínfín buấn duit,

A’s uklách mór már thuille léis.


This is one of the numerous sweet little songs to be found in almost every hamlet throughout the Irish parts of Ireland. With these ancient ballads, and the delightful old Finian Tales, in poetry and prose, the rural Irish are wont to recreate themselves after the toils of the day, when assembled round their village fire sides, they enjoy the only cessation from suffering, which they know, or expect in this life. To these productions, our gentry, except, perhaps, some few aboriginal families, are almost entirely strangers. From this class of society they have been banished to the cottages of the poor, where they have been preserved, with a sort of religious veneration, as relics of Ireland's better days. “ I heard an old Irish air sung,” says Trotter, in his Walks through Ireland, “ with Irish words, by an Irish woman; it was mournfully and remarkably melodious, sung very slow, and with astonishing and true pathos; it appealed powerfully to the heart.” Nothing can be more correct than this description. It shews of what rich feasts of sentimental poetry and music, political prejudice and religious bigotry have hitherto deprived their infatuated votaries in Ireland.*

* Even our national musical instruments, the harp and bagpipe, seem to have been considered as part of the paraphernalia of popery. In one of the first earl of Cork's noted protestant eyries, Bandon, a poor wandering minstrel, has lately been severely beaten, and had his bagpipe broken to pieces. The unlucky wight ventured to play in that town, contrary to an ancient standing rule of the corporation ; and he was thus treated for annoying the orthodox ears of the protestant inhabitants with his native papistical tunes. Were these bigots apprehensive that the charms of Irish music would “sooth their savage breasts?"


This song, or, perhaps more properly speaking, ode to music, which is now for the first time printed, was composed by David Murphy, a poor dependant of Theobald, fourth viscount Mayo, a nobleman who first sat in the Irish house of peers on 14th May, 1661. It was composed in the hall of Castleburke, a baronial mansion, now in ruins, near Castlebar, in the county of Mayo. The music which is well known, and much admired, was the production of Thady Keenan, a harper, with whom the venerable Charles O'Conor was acquainted early in the last century. In Walker's memoirs of the Irish Bards, will be found an interesting account of both bards, from the pen of his anonymous and excellent correspondent.

They have in the west of Ireland a favorite song, often mistaken for this ode, known by the name of Condée Mháizheó, "County of Mayo," and sometimes as "The lament of Thomas Flavell," having been composed by a bard of that name, a native of the island of Bophin, on the western coast. It is only remarkable for being combined with one of our sweetest native melodies-the very soul of plaintive Irish music. The words are here given, with a hope, that they may lead to the preservation of the air :-

Condaе Mhaigheo.

Is Air An lóíng so pháidí la̸óínse do ghním-se An dubrón,

Ag ofnadh Anns An óídhche Agus Kg síor-zhul 's An ló

Munk m beidh zur dalladh m' íntle<cht

A's me bh-fad om' mhuintir,

Eár máirea̸n! is múith A chKoinfinn-se condke Mháízheó,


Un uáir A mháir mo cháirde budh bhreádh mo chuid éif, 'oláinn lionn Ypáineách 1 3-comhluadár bán óg,

Muna m-beith fíer-ól ná g-cartá

'Y An Sligh bheith po láidir,

Hí a' Yanticrús d' fázfáinn mo chnámhá fa̸n bh-xóð.

Ta zádáidhnídh na h-áite so ág eirígheld ro mhór

Fo chnotádha a's fo háir bág gán trácht a̸ir bhueládhá


da máireadh dámh-sá án iáruil

dhéanfainn diobh ciánách, .

Munk m-beich gur thágáir dik dhám bheith a g-ciántáibh fá bhrón.

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da m-beidh Padruig lochláinn 'ná iárla̸ Kir ia̸ríil ze púil, Brián dubh a chliámháin 'ná thigheárná a̸ir Dhuáchmóp,

Aodh dubh Mac Grikda

'Ha̸ chornéal a g-Cliára,

Is An sin bheidh mo thriúll-sá go condke Mháízheó.

2 66

By each blessed bell that's there,”— Consecrated bells were formerly held in great reverence in Ireland, particularly before the tenth century. Cambrensis in his Welch Itinerary, says, " Both the laity and clergy in Ireland, Scotland, and Wales, held in such great veneration portable bells, and staves crooked at the top, and covered with gold, silver, and brass, and similar relics of the saints, that they were much more afraid of swearing falsely by them, than by the gospels, because, from some hidden and miraculous

power, with which they were gifted, and the vengeance of the saint, to whom they were particularly pleasing, their despisers and transgressors are severely punished.”-Hoare's translation of the Itinerary of Giraldus, London 1805, p. 31. Miraculous portable bells were very common, Giraldus speaks of the Campana fugitiva of O'Toole, chieftain of Wicklow; and Colgan relates, that whenever Saint Patrick's portable bell tolled, as a preservative against evil spirits and magicians, it was heard from the Giant's Causeway to Cape Clear, from the Hill of Howth to the Western Shores of Conamara,“ per totam Hiberniam.”Colgan. In Triade, p. 103. Evinus who wrote before the tenth century, says,

“ Saint Ciaran's portable bell still exists, and is held in high veneration, and carried round to the assemblies of princes, to protect the poor, and to raise contributions for his monastery.”— Vita Antiq. Ciarini in Actis SS. p. 458. This veneration for bells appears to have been preserved unabated, from the days of Saint Patrick to those of our bard.-- See Doctor O'Conor's Appendix to Cat. Stowe MSS.

p. 30. It was found difficult to procure a perfect transcript of the present ode. My first copy proved incomplete, and indeed little better than a fragment, but this I did not discover until after Mr. Furlong had versified it. Although his translation of the complete copy is contained in the text, yet I am induced to preserve his previous version of the fragment; and do so as I think, with the suffrage of every reader of taste :

No more in sad suspense I'll pine,

No longer droop in lingering woe-
Quick! hand that cup of cheering wine,

Let the rich liquor freely flow :
And long, and loud, my harp shall ring,
While sheltered here I sit and sing
The praises of Mayo!

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