An' the fire o' wrath frae his visage wan "O! HE that gave this body life, "Yet hae I twenty stalwart sons, "Young man! your father had ae friend, An' ye daurna be his fae, Lest the wraith o' the dead suld track yer steps "My father's friend I daurna slay, Alas! if thou art he; An' alas! I e'er suld tak an aith "But gin ye've been my father's friend, An' tell me, for our Ladye's sake! "Thou art a son o' the deep green sea, An' ken the soul's hie pride O' the sailor men wha dauringlie "We neither stoop to stock nor stone, To priesthood nor to power, Though we patter a prayer in Halyrood, I' the wane o' a haly hour! "Nor stoop we to beg whare might may claim Obedience to our will; Yet rather I'd sullie my sailor name Than I thy blood wad spill." In wae he grasped yon pilot's hand, "Arouse ye, my merrie men!" Ramsay cried, “I wadna be whare savage deeds Are dune in a Christian land; I'd rather lay me doun to dee On the soil o' a foreign strand." Away, away, with the gale behind, Adoun the Tay; an' the blusterin wind She sailed away till the licht o' day Was stealin' frae the west : An' did she sink, that bonnie schip Wi' the nightfa', into rest? What climes she socht, what scenes she saw, The banks o' Tay, frae that dread day, Yet aft, 'tis thocht, amid the storm, An' the eldricht cry o' the wild sea-mew An' aft frae the point o' the Magdalen's pow, On hie, wi' the brunt o' a beacon low, A blaze will wildly flare! THE TRIUMPH OF MRS. MURPHY O’LEERY. A TALE OF ROWLAND'S KALYDOR. "If you don't find him black, I'll eat him,' -The Cameleon. MURPHY O'LEERY, as frolicksome a young rogue as ever frisked over the bogs of Tipperary, was, from his infancy, a great favourite with the light-hearted "pisantry." He had a queer triangular laughing eye in his head, that gained every heart; and a pair of whiskers quite irresistible. And although Murphy never reached five feet four inches in height, yet, as a bog-trottor, a heart-stealer, and a gallon-emptier, he was well known, by young and old, from Ballingary to Balliporeen. Murphy had quickly imbibed all the learning usually vouchsafed to countrymen of his station, an outline of which, in a jovial moment, he boisterously sung "I was sent to larn astronomy, An' I got it soon wi' ease; With this stock of "larning," and in possession of the three before-mentioned graces, who can doubt for a moment that Murphy would be successful in the world, for into the world he had determined to go? His soaring ambition winged over the beautiful potato-mountains of Tipperary; and he determined that his corporeal frame should soon follow; for, as he quaintly remarked— "Och, 'tis a pity to see Sich a ganius as I digging turf on a lea." Well, one fine morning, he huddled on his clothes, tumbled his bagful of earthly possessions over his shoulder, left his father and mother, and sallied along the highway which was to lead him into the world. He was as sprightly as a lark, singing, as he toddled along, "The Maids of Killarney." Little did he think, in the overflowing of his soul, that he left so many neat-footed dames drying up their sorrowful tears at his departure. Murphy soon entered a market-town. Hence, diverging paths lead in so many directions, that it fairly puzzled him how to proceed. On he went, leaving his course to fate. But after a toilsome trudge, he found himself in the identical spot whence he had started. "By my honey!" said he, looking puzzled," sure I ain't to do this all my born days." "To be sure ye arn't, Pat." Murphy turned round, and saw a decent sort of personage, dressed in all the gaudy colours of the rainbow. Thinking him a "riglar grate gintleman," and proud of being recognised by so portly a personage, he drew up his whole length, and, with a low bow, thus spoke to the stranger, in a mighty polite way— "May it please yer honour and glory to tell me the way." "To be sure I will, Pat. What way d'ye want?" "Why, yer honour and glory, av coorse, the way that leads to fortin." "Sure I will, Pat," smilingly said the recruiting-sergeant (for such, indeed, was the rank of the personage who had condescended to speak to Mr. Murphy O'Leery)-"to be sure I will. Come along with me; and here's a shilling for ye to drink my health." "Thanks to yer honour. I never finger'd sich a sum in all my life afore." Murphy went along with the civil gentleman, whom he soon discovered to be a military one; for next day he found himself amongst a number of other raw-boned recruits, who had voluntarily or unwittingly enrolled themselves under the banner of their country, engaged, as the facetious Harrison saith, in the cause "of glory and a shilling." After a short drill, Murphy found himself on board a transport; and, after a pleasant voyage, marching sturdily along the beach of Jamaica with his regiment. Two years' attention to duty, and capricious Fortune had made Pat a corporal; and he passed few nights without scheming some plan to better his lot. On his couch one night, he began to reflect on his fate. The green hills of Tipperary, and his former happiness, passed quickly over his mind. He thought on how he had been trapped into the path of fortune," as the sergeant misnamed it. "Ugh," said Murphy, "never mind;" and, light at heart, he lay down on his pillow. Murphy awoke without any fixed resolution; and since Fortune would not come at his bidding, he coolly resolved to await the bidding of Fortune. Who ever heard of an unfortunate Irishman? Such a creature would be as rare as a four-leaved clover. For a season, Fortune may be shy, and jump from his embraces, but-transmutat incertos honores-she soon changes. "Come here, Mike, you durthy devil," said the corporal, one evening after parade, to an ancient-looking mannikin-a drummer. "Here wid ye. What for are ye staring at there, wid yer eyes wide awake, ye spalpeen ye?" "At yer honour's sarvice," said Mike, advancing, and uncovering his head. "On wid yer cap, Mike, and come along." "Now, Mike," began the corporal, after they were seated under a retired beech, safe from eaves-droppers, "they tell me ye're a mighty quare boy." "Troth, an' they may say that same," replied the drummer. "Faith, an' ye can get in and out o' a row wi' any man braithin, always barrin' Paddy Mahony; and he can trick the very "Devil a doubt of it." "Whisht now, Mike! I've a bit of a schame for ye. Aye, ye may well prick your ears. It must be done nately-nately, mind, Mike." "I'm your man," said the drummer, a gleam of satisfaction laughing in his countenance. "Now, Mike, listen; and for yer life pered in a low tone to the drummer. -;" and Murphy whis "Av coorse. There's no misdoubting you at all, at all," said Mike, his face glistening with delight, and now and then looking up with his droll eyes into the face of the corporal, who was eagerly narrating his scheme. "Be my sowl, I'm yer man," warmly ejaculated Mike. "I believe you, Mike; but wait a bit. I'll lighten yer duty, it's myself will do,"—and his voice sunk to its former whisper-"I don't mistrust you, Mike; but I'd better do this same." The drummer appeared crest-fallen, as if an important part of his duty had been taken away from him. "Be ma gorra, Mike! if you ever blab a word o' this same, now, mind me, Mike, it isn't with a devil of a batin' ye'll get aff at all, at all.” "Kip yer mind aisy on that score ;" and Mike gave a knowing wink. Next morning, Murphy and Mike were early astir;-the former dressed in full regimentals, clean and tidy, with his red whiskers carefully combed and curled; the other, wrapped up in the cast-off suit of a slave, with his feet, hands, and physiognomy, blackened by an applieation of soot. "Mike, ye ould schamin' rascal," said the corporal, "ye've hit yer dress to a tae. Let's be aff afore sorra a wun o' the offishers claps his eye on us; and min' ye, Mike, don't be after rubbing the black av yer feet wid the dew." After a stroll for an hour or two, the counterfeit negro keeping at a respectful distance behind the corporal, who did Murphy see but a coloured lady walking alone beneath some wide-spreading plantains? Murphy, in his meditations on the way to arrive at fortune, had determined to make a bold attempt; and her dark ladyship had frequently appeared to his vision as the impersonation of the fickle goddess; and if he could get but a word in her ear, he trusted to his dear blarney for making himself not only master of her charming person, but also of her plantations. He had determined to make a bold effort, with the assist ance of the blackened drummer; and, with the ready wit of an Irishman, he had now taken his measures. Murphy believed, that could he now make a successful attack, it would be the most fortunate he might ever make. He immediately gave the drummer a signal, who approached, grinning like the real Simon Pure. Murphy whispered a word in his ear. "An' wont I do the job nately? Oh! millia murther!" "Now mind, Mike; be aff wid ye; an', ye ould miscreant, mind ye don't miscarry." The corporal, having given Mike his instructions, placed himself in ambush near to the spot where the heiress must pass in her walk; while Mike, stealing on her path, came up behind the lady, and with the utmost adroitness, giving a horrid yell, tripped up her ladyship's heels, leaving her sprawling on the lawn. "Arrah, by my sowl," said Mike, after he had retreated a few yards, "now Murphy, my boy, let me see how ye'll finish your gallant schame." The terrified dame screamed, in frightful accents, "Murder, murder! help, help!" Murphy, in his ambush, laughed outright at the drummer, and the grotesque manner he performed his duty; but recollecting himself, he adjusted his visage, after having made several unsuccessful attempts. His plot was only half-finished; so, springing from his retreat, he rushed forward, exclaiming,— "What manes that cry there? who shouts murther? thunder and turf, isn't any body kilt there?" "Oh! help me," was the reply. "Indeed, an' I will. Tell me are yez assassinated intirely? Arrah, won't ye give me yer fist?" "Ah, you black murtherin' scoundrel!" cried Murphy, as he pretended to discover Mike, "I'll lead you to the halter, ye infernal rebel ye! Just wait a bit, Ma'am; don't be after thankin' me, till I catch the ould vagabond, who could murther entirely so gentale and so purty a creature as yer ladyship." Murphy rushed forward, whispering, "Now, Mike, ye devil, to yer heels wid ye." Mike instantly took flight, at the same time giving a loud whew of defiance. "Hallo! ye infernal murtherer," loudly roared the corporal; "take that wid yez, ye black rascal;" and he fired a pistol. The drummer fell, but ere Murphy had got up to him, he was again on his feet, and, scudding like the wind, was soon out of sight. The corporal gave up the pursuit as hopeless, and found the lady about to depart. She again thanked her deliverer and was going away; but Murphy, after so much trouble and success, could not agree to have his scheme so easily tripped as her ladyship. "Maybe ye may be thrown down again afore ye kin. So, axing yer ladyship's pardon, I'll go wid ye, if ye plase, till ye're safely home." The lady could not but gratify the wish of her deliverer, seeing it was so trifling. So Murphy accompanied her home, prating all the way on the insolence of slaves-the beautiful weather-the fine condition of |