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while the light brown kid and frothy turkey harmoniously mingled their tempting odours. Caulcannon and apple-pies were smoking on all sides ; piggins of pure Pothien shone brightly on different parts of the loaded table ; and we took our seats as old Dennis played a festal flourish on his sonorous pipe,
After the repast, dancing was resumed, and the old mendicant cheerily accompanied the music with several verses of the old song,
“ 'Twas on a day,
And dancing also.”. The diversion was kept up for many hours, when the exhausted young men and maidens again flocked round the entertaining Buchaugh. I had wound myself into the very inmost recesses of his affectionate old breast, by a lucky assertion that there were wandering mendicants in Fairy-land, as well as among the Milesians. A blended ex pression of surprise and rapture sat on his happy countenance, and he listened with dumb attention to my recital of part of The Beggar's petition to Mab the Fairy Queen.
As I concluded my quotation from the alms-begging prayer of the pigmy mendicant to her fairy grace, when she was rioting perhaps on "a moon-parched grain of purest wheat," or
“ The broke heart of a nightingale
O'ercome in music,” the old Buchaugh cordially grasped my hand, and, drawing his tattered cloak closer about him, requited me with a nàrration of " his travels into foreign parts."
After a preliminary draught, and the usual guttural “ notes of preparation," he thus began : "Many, many long years ago, when the good wife in the bee-hive chair was as blooming a lass as any of the young blossoms that gather around her, I was slowly pacing along the sea-shore, near the little village of Stradbally, when a bare-footed little fellow ran up to me, ready to explode, with a message from old Thady Aroon, the great Buchaugh, who lay at the last extremity of life in one of the little cabins in the village. I found the old man at holy devotion with a venerable priest ; and as soon as his prayers were ended he motioned me to approach, and, convulsively pressing my hand to his weakly-throbbing heart, in a tremulous and broken voice spoke to me as follows; — Donovan,' said he, you're my own cousin-german, and I'm sure you ’ve as honest a heart as ever beat in the bosom of man. You know well enough how long I've been wandering over the land, curing the sick, amusing the lusty, carrying love-tokens over mountains and rivers, and bearing fond requests to young maidens from their lovers, to look up to the bright moon at midnight, and think that those who dearly loved them, although far, far away, were at that moment lifting their eyes to the same place, and fondly musing upon them. In the course of a long life I have contrived to glean a mighty. sum of money, which you will find carefully sewed up in my old patched cloak, with many valuable bonds and
good notes from some of the great ones of the land. These I deliver
• There I heard the thrushes warbling,
Down by the banks of Blackwater side. After a long search, I at length discovered the jewel; and truly never did the warm eye of youth gaze on a more lovely object. The deep melancholy in which I found her absorbed, her pale countenance and mourning raiment, interested me beyond measure. I was then young and warm-hearted, and looked upon her with feelings little short of
* Her head hung down on her white, white breast,
A true lover's knot to her heart she press'd,
Like frozen dew on the lily meek.' I shewed her the antique silver ring, richly studded with diamonds, of old Aroon, and she resigned herself wholly to my direction, bitterly bewailing the death of the old Buchaugh. We courageously set sail for the Indies, braving the fearful dangers of the great ocean, and arrived in safety at the doorgha father-in-law. He bore the honoured name of a proud Irish family, but unluckily springing from a younger branch, which his ancestors had impoverished by lavishing the whole of their possessions on the elder sons, he was driven to truck and barter for his support. He went on prosperously for many years, but, meeting with a sudden reverse of fortune in some great speculations, had sent for his son to marry a rich heiress, in order to prop up his falling fortunes, the tottering state of which he had much ado to conceal. What a flood of agony did these dreadful tidings pour upon the heart of young Hector O'Hara, on his arrival at Calcutta! He often rallied his sinking spirits, and resolved to impart the secret of his marriage to his father, but the moment the old man appeared with his stern eye and care-worn brow, his resolution vanished. How could he hurry him into the grave, by saying he had wedded with the daughter of a beggar? How blast all those budding hopes, from the blossoming of which he anticipated such pleasure and advantages ?
“ The father alternately endeavoured to threaten and cajole him into a consent to the marriage with the heiress—his mother on her bended knees besought him to save her from poverty and ruin; and his sisters turned with eyes full of tears and imploring looks upon him. Oppressed with their unrelenting persecution for many weeks, he had passed the night in dreaming agony. The whole family were gathered round him in the breakfast-room, assailing him with tears, threats, and bitter reproaches—his fevered blood rushed wildly through his veins; his heart beat convulsively in his breast; his sight grew dim; his brain whirled, and I fear the fatal consent was just quivering on his white lip, when the folding doors of the apartment suddenly burst open, and the pale face and slender figure of his Peggy appeared before him. “ My wife! my dear wife!" was all that he could utter, and he bounded into her encircling arms.
The father stood aghast, the women shrieked, and the young wife and her husband were still locked to each other's breast when I entered the room, and with a low obeisance introduced myself as a relation of the bride. The amazement of all instantly increased; and the face of old Hector assumed an expression of unfeigned horror and deep disgust, as I threw the old patched cloak of the Buchaugh at his feet, loudly proclaiming it to be the marriage portion of his son's wife. The sudden jerk loosened some of the stitches, and a shower of bright gold covered the floor. In a few words I explained every thing. The winning ways of Peggy soon moved the hearts of the family in her favour; her husband was happy in her love; and the old gold and great money-bonds of the wandering Buchaugh effectually saved the sinking fortunes of the proud old Hector O'Hara.
“The grateful young couple implored me to pass the remainder of my days under their roof; but my heart yearned for the land of my forefathers. How could I die happy in a foreign country, with only one of my own dear kinsfolk to close my eyes and wail over my cold corpse? How could I rest under any turf but that of old Erin?' The sun seemed to look upon me with a strange aspect—the moon had not half the sweet quietness in her white face, the stars did not shed the same soft light as in my own native land. There were no smiling maidens to look out upon me as I passed – no bright-eyed children to listen to my tales--no hoary grandsires to drop the tear at my pathetic ditties-no festal merry-meetings on All Hallow Eve-no willing voice to join with me in loudly chanting the soul-stirring anthem of Erin-go-bragh. My heart was in Ireland, all my affections were cen
tered in my own country ; and I quickly bade adieu to my kind friends, and cheerily set sail again for my own little Isle of the Ocean."
The old Buchaugh and the merry piper continued to amuse us for the greatest part of the night ; nor did the rustic party break
before many of the youngsters were dozing in their seats, the piper's eyes twinkling with the effects of the strong Pothien, the merry cock crowing out his matinal salutation, and the grey dawn glimmering over the summit of the lofty Knock-na-ree.
LINES WRITTEN ON THE FIELD OF CRECY, 1820.
Evening's warm hues are on the hill,
The sun's last rays appear-,
Break on the listening ear.
With Gallia's chivalry;
Was bathed in slaughter's dye.-
That scorns at destiny,
Tore his tali plumes away.
A tottering monument,
And Gaul's pale standards rent:-
High, confident, and brave,
Her sword so mightily ?-
Or what thy glories say.
And high romantic pride,
Who in thy combat died.
ON ARABIC AND PERSIAN LITERATURE. NO. II. The earliest accounts we have received of the Persian nation contain very few tokens of their having cultivated the composition of language. However accomplished, and accomplished they were, according to the testimony of the most interesting historian* among the most polished as well as the most extraordinary people that the world has ever seen, the Persians studied rather such arts as give grace to the person, than bestow elegance on the mind. Riding, wrestling, and throwing the javelin, are the pursuits assigned to the youth of Persia by the biographer of Cyrus; and Herodotus informs us that their young men were exercised chiefly in three things--in hurling the dart, in riding, and in the practice of virtue.
The warrior-philosopher Xenophon, although, from his acquaintance with the younger Cyrus, he must have conversed in Persian with ease and fluency, has not transmitted to us any composition on that idiom. There is not even an historian of Alexander, although these are sufficiently numerous, who has left us the desired information : we must look therefore to a later date, to the era of Mahomet and Anushirvan, for the first accounts which can be received as genuine.
At the birth of Mahomet, Nushirvan or Anushirvan, the Chosroes of the Byzantine writers, reigned over the vast empire of Iran or Persia. The Oriental historians designate this monarch by the title of Just ; but in a nation of slaves such a title is obtained without many sacrifices on the part of the sovereign, and no extraordinary efforts of clemency and humanity may be expected to have decorated his career.
At this period, however, long before that which is termed the golden age of Persian literature, and which was adorned by so great a brilliancy of philosophers and poets, we begin to receive some accounts respecting the state of that language. There had been founded at Ghandisapor, a city of Khorasan, a school of physic; and as the study of this useful science advanced, the arts of literature began to assume the rank they merit in the scale of human pursuits. But unfortunately, as is common in the early growth of reason, scholastic disputes and the jargon of metaphysic subtleties usurped the place of a pure and enlightened philosophy. It happened, notwithstanding, that although these studies did not enlarge the boundaries of science, nor extend the limits of human knowledge,—that although mankind has not been indebted to Ghandisapor for any useful inventions to adorn or to improve life, yet they produced a remarkable influence on the purity and correctness of its dialect. Controversy, if it does not add to the grasp of an understanding, at least sharpens and gives nerve to a language. Hence the idiom of polished life became distinguished from that of the vulgar, and the name of the “ Deri” was given to the former, while the latter was distinguished by that of “ Pehlevi.”
It would be a fitting subject of investigation among antiquaries and philologists, to ascertain the etymology of these names. The more probable account of them appears to be, that the Deri was a perfect specimen of the “ Parsi,” so called from the country of which Shiraz is the capital; and that the Pehlevi had its name from the “ Pehlu," or heroes who spoke it in its earlier ages.