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He scarce had spoken, ere away he pass'd
The horse, the hasty rider, all did seem,
Like the thin shadowy figments of a dream;
I felt, in short, as Wordsworth did, when he
Chanced the leech gatherer on the moor all by himself to see.
By the exertion of judicious thought,
At last I from this mental trance awoke,
Feel any way oppress'd in thought, it made me very dry.
When I arrived in brick-built George's Street,
To where a bottle, stored with liquid sweet,
Then turning up my little finger strait,
I gazed like Docter Brinkley on the sky,
Whence heavenly thought I caught-pure and elate
And, ere a moment its brief flight could wing,
I threw the empty bottle down, to chaunt about the King.
Which leaveth him in ane awkward doldrum, after the manner of W. Wordsworth, Esq.
Shaketh it off, and marcheth homewards.
A very glorious day this is indeed!
Our monarch has arrived at last-King George the Fourth has
Come down, ye mountains, bend
He calleth upon Ireland to rejoice in the fashion of a pot of portter.
Inviteth the mountains to ane saraband.
* Professor of Astronomy, în T. C. D.
Howth is already at the water-side,
Such is that loyal mountain's duteous haste;
Maketh of Down should dispatch Morne's snowy-vested peaks,
them ane catalogue most musical.
A word of
advice to the rivers, in the
style of Mas
ter Edmund Spenser, late of Kilcolman.
And Tipperary, *Knocksheogowna's hill,
Kerry, the great Macgillycuddys reeks,
Cork, the Galtees, studded with many a still,
Croaght must be there, from whose conspicuous seat
All, all should march, tramp off to beat of drum,
For now our monarch has arrived-King George the Fourth ha come!
Rivers, dear rivers, in meandring roll,
"Our Monarch has arrived at last-King George the Fourth h
Anent lakes. Killarney sulkily remains behind,
Thinking the King should come to wait on her;
But all the other loughs, where'er they be,
Or Googaun-Barra,†† when the Lee doth take
* Which being interpreted, signifies, the hill of the fairy calf; there is many a stc about it.
+ Vinegar Hill, where a decisive battle was fought in 1798, with the rebels, w were totally defeated.
Croagh-Patrick, in Mayo.
§ Spenser, who dwelt beneath old father Mole,
(Mole hight that mountain gray
That walls the north side of Armulla vale.)
Collin Clout's come home again.
He has catalogued our rivers in the Fairy Queen, B. 4. Cant. 2. St. 40-44.
|| In Dublin Bay are two sand banks, called the North and South Bulls. from them is a village called Ring's-End, which gives occasion to the facete to say, d you enter Dublin between two bulls and a blunder.
** Est aliud stagnum quod facit ligna dunrescere in lapides; homines autem find ligna, et postquam formaverunt in eo usque ad caput anni, et in capite anni lapis in nitur, et vocatur Loch-Each, ac (Lough Neagh.) See Mirab. Hib.
tti. e. The hermitage of St Finbar, who lived there as a recluse. He was f Bishop of Cork. It is a most beautiful and romantic lake, containing a pretty isla It is a great place of pilgrimage.
Its lovely course, join in the general hum
"Our monarch has arrived at last-King George the Fourth has
ye blest bogs,* true sons of Irish soil, How can I e'er your loyal zeal express? You have already risen, despising toil,
And travell'd up, your Sovereign to address.
From Geashil barony, with might and main,
In turfy thunders, shouting as they roam,
"Our Sovereign has arrived at last-King George the Fourth has
Ha! what's this woeful thumping that I hear?u
Oh! 'tis the Giant's Causeway moving on,
Heavily pacing, with a solemn cheer,
On clumsy hoofs of basalt octagon.
(Gigantic wanderer! lighter be your tramp,
Or you may press our luckless cities down:
'Twould be a pity, if a single stamp
Smash'd bright Belfast-sweet linen-vending town.)
Why have you travelled from your sea beat dome?
"Because our monarch has arrived-King George the Fourth has
Last slopes in, sailing from the extremest south,
So North, and South, and East, and West combine,
To hail the King, who, first of all his line,
Was ever seen old Ireland's sky beneath.
All shall exclaim, for none shall there be mum,
"Our monarch has arrived at last-King George the Fourth has come !"
How living people joy, I shall not tell,
Else I should make my song a mile in length;
Chaunting their lays with pertinacious strength:
Of sharks and lawyers-asses and Lord Mayors—
In short, of every living thing, all in their own degrees.
* Every body has heard of the movements of the Irish boga
Lealty of the bogs.
Ane caution to the Giant's Causeway not to tread upon the learned weavers of
mendation on various folk.
Wherein it is But ye remorseless rhymesters, spare the King!
earnestly requested of the poets of Dublin, not to slay the King after the
fashion of Ankerstroem
Have some compassion on your own liege Lord!
Were he to death by Dublin poets bored.
And the newspapers have their pens prepared.
Let none attempt to greet the King, save such great bards as I.
A WELCOME TO
HIS MAJESTY KING GEORGE THE FOURTH,
ON HIS ARRIVAL IN IRELAND,
MY DEAR SIR,-As I lifted up my voice, and wept over the great national calamity which overspread my native land last year, (I need not say the death of Sir Daniel,) I think it right to rejoice now in the general joy of Ireland at the arrival of the King. I choose the same metre as that which I used in the Luctus, it being, as Beattie well observes of the Spenserian stanza, equally adapted to the grave and the gay. Of course, as before, I recommend it to be sung by my old friend Terry Magrath. The Director at the corner will be saying every where that it was he who wrote this song, or at least that he connived at it, but don't believe him, it being all excogitated by
CORK INSTITUTION, Aug. 1, 1821.
My dear sir,
Your's till death us do part,
R. D. R.
A WELCOME TO HIS MAJESTY.
[Tune-Groves of Blarney.]
Synoptical Analysis for the Benefit of Young Persons studying this Song.
Stanza I. Welcome in general; in the following verses the specific excellencies of Ire land are stated. Stanza II. 1. National meat and drink and valour. Stanza III. 2. Na tional riot in a superior stlye. Stanza IV. 3. National music. Stanza V. 4. Nation: oratory. Stanza VI. 5. National gallantry. Stanzas VII. and VIII. National uproar ousness. All these offered for the diversion of the King.
YOU'RE welcome over, my royal rover,
Our hills and mountains, our streams and fountains,
Our towns and cities all so bright,
Our salt-sea harbours, our grass-green arbours,
Our greasy larders will glad your sight.
"Tis here you'll eat, too, the gay potato,
And you'll get frisky upon our whisky,
Which, were you dumb, would make you sing;
Then there's our speaking, and bright speech-making, Which, when you hear, 'twill make you jump;
When in its glory it comes before you,
"Twould melt the heart of a cabbage stump.
'Tis so met'phoric, and paregoric,
As fine as Doric or Attic Greek,
'Twould make Mark Tully look very dully, Without a word left in his cheek.