So now to finish this brave narration,
Which my poor geni' could not entwine;
But were I Homer, or Nebuchadnezzar,
'Tis in every feature I would make it shine.

Oh, ullagoane, &c.

O! BLARNEY CASTLE, MY DARLING,

Originally appeared in the "Cork Southern Reporter" newspaper, about April 1827, where it is entitled, "An Old Ballad, giving a full and true Account of the Storming and Taking of Blarney Castle by Oliver Cromwell; together with some Particulars not generally known."

The Editor has no doubt that this song, and that on St. Patrick's arrival, explanatory of the origin of the word Punch, come from the same pen. "O! Blarney Castle, my Darling," has been as unceremoniously appropriated by Father Prout (vide "Reliques," i. 158), as, according to that reverend gentleman, Moore has availed himself of sundry obscure Greek, Latin, and French lyrics.

Upon the allusion made to Oliver Cromwell in the second and sixth verses, it is necessary to remark that, according to the popular belief of the Irish peasant, Cromwell was endowed with supernatural powers; and that the fraternity of Freemasons, which was said to be founded by him, were supposed, from the secrecy and ceremonies observed by them, to be dabblers in the black art. Among the pieces of magical skill that Cromwell is asserted to have acquired, was the knowledge of a powder

for throwing balls from cannon without making any report; and hence termed "dumb-powder," in distinction to gunpowder.

It is also traditionally asserted, that a spell, of which Cromwell was master, could make his opponents become powerless as statues; or, in the words of the song

"Though the eyes of the people stood open, they found themselves all fast asleep."

In a curious French work, entitled "L'Ordre des Francs-Maçons Trahi," printed at Amsterdam in 1745, it is stated that "Cromwell was the first who gave the name of the order of Freemasons. Willing to reform mankind, and exterminate princes and kings, he proposed to his party the re-establishment of the Temple of Solomon." Whether this account be true or false, the coincidence between it and the tradition current in Ireland is remarkable.

The name of Cromwell, although associated both in song and story with the taking of Blarney Castle, is obviously used for that of his partisan, Lord Broghill (afterwards the Earl of Orrery). Cromwell, if indeed he ever was at Blarney, could only have paid it a short and peaceable visit. In the early part of the year 1646, Lord Broghill became master of this castle, and it was held by the Parliamentary party from that period to the termination of the Commonwealth war. The published letter from Lord Broghill to Lenthall, the Speaker, giving an account of his lordship's victory over Lord Muskerry and the Irish forces, at Knocknaclashy, on the 26th July, 1651, which was followed by the surrender of Limerick to Ireton, is prefaced by a communica

tion, dated "Blairney, 1st August," which states, that "Tomorrow the Lord Broghill goeth hence into the field to hinder the Irish from gathering in a body again."

Tune-" O, hold your Tongue, dear Sally!"

O! Blarney Castle, my darling, you're nothing at all but cold stone!

With a small little taste of old ivy, that up your side has

grown.

Och, it's you that was once strong and ancient, and you kept all the Sassenachs down:

And you sheltered the Lord of Clancarty, who then lived in Dublin town.*

Bad cess to that robber, old Cromwell, and to all his long battering train,

Who rolled over here like a porpoise, in two or three hookers, from Spain !

* Specimen of Father Prout's version:.

"O! Blarney Castle, my darling,

Sure you're nothing at all but a stone,

Wrapt in ivy, a nest for all varmint,

Since the ould Lord Clancarty is gone.
Och! 'tis you that was once strong and ancient,
And ye kept all the Sassenachs down,
While fighting them battles, that aint yet

Forgotten by martial renown."

† A common malediction in Ireland, originally importing "heavy taxation."

A description of fishing or pilot boat peculiar to the south-west coast of Ireland.

And because that he was a Freemason, he mounted a

battering-ram,

And he loaded it up of dumb-powder, which in at its mouth he did cram.

It was now the poor boys of the Castle looked over the battlement wall,

And they there saw that ruffian, old Cromwell, a-feeding on powder and ball;

And the fellow that married his daughter, with a great big grape-shot in his jaw,

'Twas bold I-ER-TON they called him, and he was his brother-in-law.

So they fired the bullet like thunder, and it flew through the air like a snake;

And they hit the high walls of the Castle, which, like a young curlew, did shake;

While the Irish had nothing to fire, but their bows and their arrows "the sowls!"

Poor tools for shooting the Sassenachs,* though mighty good for wild fowls.

Now one of the boys in the Castle, he took up a Sassenach's shot,

And he covered it up in turf ashes, and he watched it till it was red-hot.

Then he carried it up in his fingers, and he threw it right

over the wall;

He'd have burned their tents all to tinder, if on them it happened to fall.

Saxons.

The old castle, it trembled all over, as you'd see a horse do

in July,

When just near the tail in his crupper, he's teased by a pestering fly.

Black Cromwell, he made a dark signal, for in the black art he was deep;

So, though the eyes in the people stood open, they found themselves all fast asleep.

With his jack-boots he stepped on the water, and he marched right over the lake;

And his soldiers they all followed after, as dry as a duck or a drake;

And he gave Squire Jeffreys the castle, and the loch and the rock close, they say;

Who both died there, and lived there in quiet, as his ancestors do to this day.*

*Father Prout's version runs thus:

"Then the gates he burned down to a cinder,
And the roof he demolished likewise;

O! the rafters, they flamed out like tinder,
And the building flared up to the skies.

And he gave the estate to the Jeffers,

With the dairy, the cows, and the hay;
And they lived there in clover, like heifers,
As their ancestors do to this day."