About 1830 Davis travelled through England and Scotland, earning his living by his trade as he went, and writing poems all the while, studying at the same time French, Greek, Latin, and Gaelic. During this period also he contributed to the Nation newspaper and to various periodicals, spending some years in Manchester. Returning to Belfast in 1845, he resumed his toil; but his fame had preceded him, and he left the loom to edit the Belfastman's Journal. He then engaged in literary work for a Belfast firm, also contributing to several magazines and journals. He was elected successively to the positions of librarian in the People's Institute and assistant registrar in Queen's College. His poetical works are The Tablet of Shadows, The Lispings of the Lagan, Earlier and Later Leaves, or an Autumn Gathering, and several love poems and patriotic songs.] CASTE AND CREED.1 Come, man! your hand, a brother sings, The wars of nations leave to kings, And those of creeds to clergy: By holding man, whate'er his clime, May all who'd sow opposing views, Their harvests find tremendous, What, though the waves should walk the air, Do these make men the less akin, Or pleas for hate and slaughter? Ah, if, indeed, ye hold a creed, We've fair-we've foul in every clime, 1 By permission of the author. If, loathing virtue-blood and bone, Ah, Virtue, ever in our throats, Much wear and tear attend thee! O'er ills that mayn't be mended— Let's hold from frost and ferment- Like Save-all's Sabbath garment! Let's clear our light to show the right- And loathe the bile would green the sight, My neighbour's weal is weal to me, He'd care no more than Bruin, Then creeds and classes, To-or-Fro- Nor deem it an unsound thing— And mark me, men, a day shall dawn Nor clime nor class shall make the man- Then, brother man, if all agreed, Though live we mayn't to see such, Let's tack this trifle to our creed, And chant a long "So be such!" All knavish souls, or high or low, May conscience-cuffs distress them; But bless, O Heaven, the better taught- MY KALLAGH DHU ASTHORE. Again the flowery feet of June Have tracked our cottage side; But what were June or flowers to me, Let others prize their lordly lands, And sceptres gemmed with blood; More dear to me the honest hands That earn my babes their food: And little reck we queens or kings When daily labour's o'er; And when he sings, his every song And like his voice his arm is strong, Ah, fancy! touch no more; O'er Kallagh dhu asthore! His voice is firm, his knee is proud, When pomp's imperious tone That right should bow alone; For well does Kallagh know his due, Nor ever seeks he more; Would Heaven mankind were all like you, My Kallagh dhu asthore! And Kallagh is an Irishman In sinew, soul, or bone; Not e'en the veins of old Slieveban Are purer than his own; The wing of woe has swept our skies, The foreign foe our shore, But stain or change thy race defies, My Kallagh dhu asthore! What wonder, then, each word he said Fell o'er my maiden day, Like breathings o'er the cradle bed Though dear your form, your cheek, and eye, I loved those virtues more, Whose bloom nor ills nor years destroy, My Kallagh dhu asthore! Oh could this heart, this throbbing thing, I'd rend its every swelling string, No slave wert thou, my blood, my bone, ONLY A FANCY. Hast thou ever known a flower Which, when years had bustled by, Flashed again upon thy dreamin sDreaming 'neath a darker skyTill its phantom light and fragrance Forced a moisture from thine eye, As are those beloved faces, Ah, how weary can be known Towers not of brick or stone- Yet, I love my shadowy castles- Thus I walked a moonlight garden On my left and on my right; One was dark and one was bright, Or as, in Day's death-embraces, Blusheth heaven's feathery white! There were flowers young and many, Till my full heart's solemn heavings, For, though beauties never, never, Burst the teeming earth like these, They were mingled, good and evilBody's health, and soul's disease, Holding, in their fieriest splendour, What the fieriest truth might freeze; So, I sighed, and whispered meekly: "Nay, my eyes are dim and weakly, And I know not which should please!" Then the fairer spirit caught me, And I wandered where she led, While the darker followed, chiding, Though I knew not what she said; Till a lake there gleamed beneath me, Like the round moon overhead; Green its banks, and flower-besprinkled, Then I sat, and songlets tinkled Leaves I wove in links together, Doing what I did not know, Till the fairer spirit's fingers Pencils-things of tinted snow- Seeds are ye of many flowers, DION BOUCICAULT. [Dion Boucicault was born in Dublin on December 26, 1822. He was brought up under the guardianship of Dr. Dionysius Lardner, whose life and writings we have noticed in vol. iii. Boucicault had scarcely reached his majority when he produced the play of London Assurance, which was brought out at Covent Garden in March, 1841. It was enormously successful, has since remained a stock piece on the stage, and is perhaps the best of all his works. From that time forward Mr. Boucicault has been constantly before the public, either as author, actor, or theatrical manager, and frequently in the combined character of the three. He has written upwards of fifty pieces. In most of these he has been indebted to some other author for his story, but that does not take away from him the merit of having used his materials with great skill. Most of his works are a singular mixture of merits and defects. He possesses unquestionably wit, skill in describing character, and marvellous ingenuity in stage effects. On the other hand, he depends for a great part of his success on the aid of the stage carpenter, and his plays, when they come to be read, appear very poor in comparison with the impression they produce on the stage. Among his chief pieces may be mentioned London Assurance, already referred to, the Colleen Bawn, the Octoroon, Old Heads and Young Hearts, Janet Pride, The Corsican Brothers, Louis XI., and The Shaughraun. Since 1876 Mr. Boucicault has lived in New York, where he has brought out several pieces, some of which have appeared on the London stage.] THE MAN OF FASHION IN THE COUNTRY. (FROM "LONDON ASSURANCE.") [Sir Harcourt Courtly is a London man of fashion: Charles is his son, a wild-going scapegrace: Max Harkaway is a country gentleman: Grace, his niece, is intended for Sir Harcourt: Meddle is a rural attorney, Dazzle a town adventurer, and Cool Sir Harcourt's servant.] Enter MAX and SIR HARCOURT. Max. Here we are at last. Now give ye welcome to Oak Hall, Sir Harcourt, heartily. Sir H. (Languidly.) Cool, assist me. (Cool takes off his furred cloak, gloves; gives him white gloves and a white handkerchief, then places a flower in his coat.) Max. Why, you require unpacking as carefully as my best bin of port. Well, now you are decanted, tell me what did you think of my park as we came along? Sir H. That it would never come to an end. You said it was only a stone's throw from your infernal lodge to the house; why it's ten miles at least. Max. I'll do it in ten minutes any day. Sir H. Yes, in a steam-carriage. Cool, perfume my handkerchief. Max. Don't do it. Don't! perfume in the country! why it's high treason in the very face of Nature; 'tis introducing the robbed to the robber. Here are the sweets from which your fulsome essences are pilfered, and libelled with their names,-don't insult them too. Sir H. (To Meddle, who is by a rose-bush.) Oh! cull me a bouquet, my man! Max. (Turning.) Ah, Meddle! how are you? This is Lawyer Meddle. Sir H. Oh! I took him for one of your people. Meddle. Ah! naturally-um-Sir Harcourt Courtly, I have the honour to congratulate happy occasion approaches. Ahem! I have no hesitation in saying this very happy occasion approaches. Sir H. Cool, is the conversation addressed towards me? Cool. I believe so, Sir Harcourt. Meddle. Oh, certainly! I was complimenting you. Sir H. Sir, you are very good: the honour is undeserved; but I am only in the habit of receiving compliments from the fairsex. Men's admiration is so d--ably insipid. (Crosses to Max, who is seated on a bench.) If the future Lady Courtly be visible at so unfashionable an hour as this, I shall beg to be introduced. Max. Visible! Ever since six this morning. -I'll warrant ye. Two to one she is at din ner. Sir H. Dinner! Is it possible! Lady Courtly dine at half-past one P.M.! Meddle. I rather prefer that hour to peck a little my Sir H. Dear me! who was addressing you? Meddle. Oh! I beg pardon. Max. Here, James! (Calling.) Enter JAMES. Tell Miss Grace to come here directly. [Exit James. Now prepare, Courtly, for, though I say it, she is with the exception of my bay mare Kitty the handsomest thing in the country. Considering she is a biped she is a wonder! Full of blood, sound wind and limb, plenty of bone, sweet coat, in fine condition, with a thorough-bred step, as dainty as a pet greyhound. VOL. IV. Sir H. Don't compare her to a horse. Max. Well, I wouldn't, but she's almost as fine a creature,-close similarities. Meddle. Oh, very fine creature! Close similarity amounting to identity. Sir H. Good gracious, sir! What can a lawyer know about woman? Meddle. Everything. The consistorial court is fine study of the character, and I have no hesitation in saying that I have examined more women than Jenks or Sir H. Oh, d- Jenks! Meddle. Sir, thank you. Max. Won't you kiss your old uncle? (He kisses her.) Sir H. (Draws an agonizing face.) Oh!— ah-um-N'importe!-my privilege in embryo-hem! It's very tantalizing though. Max. You are not glad to see me, you are not. (Kissing her.) Sir H. Oh! no, no, (aside) that is too much. I shall do something horrible presently if this goes on. (Aloud.) I should be sorry to curany little ebullition of affection; butahem! May I be permitted? tail Max. Of course you may. There, Grace, is Sir Harcourt, your husband that will be. Go to him, girl. (She curtseys.) charms, the presence of which have placed me Sir H. Permit me to do homage to the in sight of paradise. (Sir Harcourt and Grace retire.) Enter DAZZLE. Dazzle. Ah! old fellow, how are you? (Crosses to him.) Max. I'm glad to see you! are you comfortably quartered yet, eh? Dazzle. Splendidly quartered! What a place you've got here! Why it's a palace. Here, Hamilton. Enter CHARLES COURTLY. COOL sees him and looks astonished. Permit me to introduce my friend, Augustus Hamilton. (Aside.) Capital fellow! drinks like a sieve, and rides like a thunder-storm. Max. (Crosses.) Sir, I'm devilish glad to see you. Here, Sir Harcourt, permit me to intro 75 duce to youcourt.) (Goes up stage to Sir Har- ing, that it for a moment-the equilibrium of my etiquette-'pon my life I-permit me to request your pardon. Courtly. The devil! Sir H. (Advancing.) Hamilton! Good gra- which I took care to preface with an apology, cious! bless me why, Charles, is it possible!--I was compelled to the ceremony, and conwhy, Max, that's my son! Max. Your son! sequently not answerable for the languagebut to that gentleman's identity I would have Grace. Your son, Sir Harcourt! have you pledged my hair. a son as old as that gentleman? Sir H. No-that is-a-yes,-not by twenty years-a-Charles, why don't you answer me, sir? Grace. (Aside.) If that security were called for, I suspect the answer would be no effects. [Exit Sir Harcourt and Grace. Meddle. (To Max.) I have something very Courtly. (Aside to Dazzle.) What shall I particular to communicate. say? Dazzle. (Aside.) Deny your identity. Courtly. (Aside.) Capital! (Pause they look at each other-aloud.) What's the matter, sir? Sir H. How came you down here, sir? in twelve hours and a quarter. Sir H. Isn't your name Charles Courtly? [Exit. Max. Can't listen at present. Dazzle. Oh, don't bother! [Exeunt. Meddle. Now, I have no hesitation in saying that is the height of ingratitude.-Oh—Mr. Cool-can you oblige me. (Presents his account.) Cool. Why, what is all this? Meddle. Small account versus you—to giving Sir H. Do you mean to say you are usually information concerning the last census of the called Augustus Hamilton? population of Oldborough and vicinity, six Courtly. Lamentable fact―and quite correct. and-eightpence. Sir H. Well, I never-Cool, is that my son? Cool. No, sir-that is not Mr. Charles--but is very like him. Max. I cannot understand all this. Į (Go up a Grace. (Aside.) I think I can. S little.) Dazzle. (Aside to Courtly.) Give him a touch of the indignant. Courtly. (Crosses.) Allow me to say what, Sir What-d'ye-call'em-Carthorse Hartly? Dazzle. Sir Walker Cartly. Sir H. Hartly, sir! Courtly, sir. Courtly! Courtly. Well, Hartley, or Court-heart, or whatever your name may be, I say your conduct is-a-a-, and was it not for the presence of this lady, I should feel inclined-toto—. Sir H. No, no, that can't be my son,-he never would address me in that way.- Sir, your likeness to my son Charles is so astonish Cool. Oh, you mean to make me pay this, do you? Meddle. Unconditionally. Cool. Well, I have no objection-the charge is fair-but remember, I am a servant on board wages, will you throw in a little advice gratis-if I give you the money. Meddle. Ahem!-I will. Cool. A fellow has insulted me. I want to abuse him--what terms are actionable? Meddle. You may call him anything you please, providing there are no witnesses. Cool. Oh, may I? (Looks round.) Thenyou rascally pettifogging scoundrel! Meddle. Hallo! (Retreats.) Cool. (Following him.) You mean-dirty-disgrace to your profession. Meddle. Libel-slander- Cool. (Going up, turns.) Aye, but where are your witnesses? |