May profit light, and tardy sale, May Fame resound a dismal tale, May frost and snow, and sleet and hail, May wolves and bloodhounds trace and trail May Oscar, with his fiery flail, May all, from Belfast to Kinsale, May want and wo each joy curtail May all the thieves that rob and steal, Blush at the thieves of Doneraile. May mischief, big as Norway whale, O'erwhelm the knaves of Doneraile; May curses, wholesale and retail, Pour with full force on Doneraile. May every transport wont to sail May cold and hunger still congeal The stagnant blood of Doneraile; May every hour new woes reveal, That hell reserves for Doneraile. May every chosen ill prevail May th' Inquisition straight impale Oh! may my couplets never fail DUBLIN AFTER THE UNION. A jeu d'esprit, printed in the posthumous collection of Mr. Lysaght's poems (see p. 115), with the following introductory observations, copied from Sir John Carr's Stranger in Ireland.” "As I have given a little specimen of the prose which the measure of the Union produced, my readers will, perhaps, be pleased with the following excellent song, which, amongst the many good ones written at that time, I think the most witty and playful, and has much of the spirit of Swift in it. It was a great favourite with the AntiUnionists, and I give it with the more pleasure, because its poetical predictions have not been verified; and, I feel confident, never will be. It is from the sprightly pen of Mr. Lysaght." Capel Street, which, it is prophesied in the song, would become a rural walk, leads from the Castle, the residence of the Lord Lieutenant, to College Green, where stood the Parliament House, now converted into the Bank of Ireland. Dame Street, in which it is foretold that cabbages were to be cultivated, was the principal street leading from Essex Bridge through the northern portion of Dublin. The jocular allusions to the anticipated produce of the College, in "wild oats;" the Courts of Law, in " 'hemp ;" the Parliament House becoming the resort of "vermin," as placemen were called; and Daly's Club House, the haunt of "rooks" and " and "pigeons,"-terms applied to gamblers and their dupes, are so obvious, as not to require further comment. How justly alarmed is each Dublin cit, That he'll soon be transformed to a clown, sir! By a magical move of that conjuror, Pitt, The country is coming to town, sir! Give Pitt, and Dundas, and Jenky, a glass,* Who'd ride on John Bull, and make Paddy an ass. Through Capel Street, soon, as you'll rurally range, Wild oats in the College won't want to be tilled, In the Parliament House, quite alive shall there be Full of rooks, as before, Daly's Club House you'll see, Give Pitt, &c. Our Custom House quay, full of weeds, oh, rare sport! But the minister's minions, kind elves, sir, Will give us free leave all our goods to export, When we've got none at home for ourselves, sir! Give Pitt, &c. Says an alderman, "Corn will grow in your shops; This Union must work our enslavement." "That's true," says the sheriff, "for plenty of Crops,* Already I've seen on the pavement!" Give Pitt, &c. Ye brave loyal yeomen, dress'd gaily in red, This minister's plan must elate us; And well may John Bull, when he 's robbed us of bread, Call poor Ireland, "The land of potatoes!" Give Pitt, &c. THE HUMOURS OF DONNYBROOK FAIR Have been already introduced to the reader, in Mr. Lysaght's song of "The Sprig of Shillelah and Shamrock so green," p. 112. Prince Pückler Muskau, who was a spectator of this scene on the 29th August, 1828, says, "I rode out again to-day, for the first time, to see the fair at Donnybrook, near Dublin, which is a kind of popular festival. Nothing, indeed, can be more national! The poverty, the dirt, and the wild tumult, were as great as the glee and merriment with which the cheapest pleasures were enjoyed. I saw things eaten and drunk with delight, which forced me to turn my head quickly away, to remain master of my . "A proverbial term for the rebels in 1798, who wore their hair close cut." K |