68 DIALOGUE ON NATIONAL MUSIC. of playing, and the very words bear much of the same spirit." "I almost envy you," I said, "your knowledge of our venerable tongue. Often would I be glad to exchange my acquaintance of the Greek and Latin for it. I can scarce help feeling a blush, when I am forced to confess my ignorance of any portion of my native language, save very few ordinary phrases." "That you should feel a regret at not speaking or understanding it, my dear, does not surprize me? But when you reflect, for a moment, on the comparative little utility such a language would be of, when contrasted with the classic tongues of Greece and Rome, I am sure your own good sense must tell you, that however patriotically you may lament it, you cannot do so in a literary point of view." "I believe you are right; but I am debarred from the pleasure of searching into the tomes of ancient lore, and digging up from the charnel-house of forgetfulness the remains of the early poets. Perhaps I should discover a continuation of Ossian, or some other Fingalian hero!" "You seem to forget, my dear, what this moment you took as much pains to prove,—that by means of tradition, and other causes, the popular writings of the early bards have been preserved. This is the case. You could meet with few lays or DIALOGUE ON NATIONAL MUSIC. 59 You legends, which you have not already seen. have at home all the best works on the subject. Walker's Irish Bards, and Miss Brook's Reliques, contain the versions of the traditionary romances of the early writers; and, that the love for song has not degenerated among your countrymen ; however the accompaniment may have fallen into disuse, your own observation seems to have convinced you. Though the harp has ceased to delight the ears of the wayfarer; though that graceful and elegant instrument is not now commonly to be met with; though the bard has no longer a place at the banquet, and his voice no more resounds in the hall, yet his lays are sung, and his tales remembered. The meals are still selected as opportunities for requesting a song, and the labours of the day are sweetened by its repetition. In the fields you have heard it-on the road-in the farm yard-domestic occupations are relieved from tedium by resorting to this infallible cure. It quiets the child, adds strength to the brave, supports the weak. Music is a solace in grief; a cause of joy in love; of mirth in festivity; and, when the last hour has passed, and the soul bade adieu to its frail tenement, music chants the virtues of the departed, and with the wild melody of the country the corpse is consigned to the tomb." We had by this time reached Watergrass Hill, 70 VISIT TO REV. DOCTOR C where we rested for about half an hour, and thence continued through a succession of splendid views, along the Lee, until we reached our destination, T― lodge, the residence of our amiable friend, the Rev. Doctor C. His seat, which may be termed the blending of elegance and comfort, is prettily situated on the banks of the river, where it widens and encircles an island. It is distant from Cork about four miles. Our host is truly no ordinary mortal; he has been the bosom-friend of the great, and the able instructor of the nobly-born. Most of the Catholic aristocracy of the these countries have been educated at his seminary. His conversation is improving, at the same time brilliant and entertaining. Every topic he touches on betrays the master-mind, and the few effusions of his genius, with which the public have been previously favoured, cause, what may, perhaps, be deemed an exception to most writings-a regret for their briefness. His family circle, consisting of two maiden sisters and a nephew, participate in his elegant manners. Time flew, in their society, by far too rapidly, and my visit more resembled an interchange of intellectual treasures, with all the advantage of profit accruing to me, than an ordinary scene of life. My reverend friend favoured me with several letters to his acquaintance in London; and still accompanied by my kind parent, I proceeded to Cork. The drive from Glanmire has been often praised,— it cannot be too much so. The ample river, bearing on its bosom various shipping, is by the road side. From the opposite brink a long range of hill lies, crowded with villas, lawns, groves, mansions, convents, castles, and churches, which vary the scene, and render the panorama truly interesting. Close to the right, leading to the city, are spacious dwellings surrounded by extensive lawns, diversified with trees and woodlands; there are several handsome entrances. That of our efficient Member, Mr. C., is particularly imposing. On inquiring at the packet office, and learning the steamboat was not to sail until the following day, I insisted on remaining in Cork, and on my mother's returning to T- Lodge. CHAPTER IV. "Express" Steamer.-The River Lee.-The Sea! The Sea!Entrance to Bristol.-Bath.-Lions.-Contrast of England and Ireland.—Journey to London. - Enter by the West End. Wednesday 6th. FOUR O'clock, P.M. beheld me surrounded by my compagnons du voyage, pacing the deck of the "Express" steamer. She was a small boat, but trim, and a noble sailer. The hold was full of luggage, and the steerage of pigs, and passengers, who ever and anon breathed forth sounds, the former at least, neither "musical nor sadly sweet." Cabin people now came along the quays in vehicles, and stept on board. A bell was rung, and a cloud of steam gushed from the tall chimney. "Adieu!" "Farewell!" "God bless you!" hands were squeezed, strangers bowed, friends nodded; all who were not of us hurried ashore. The steam got more condensed, and a jumbling noise was heard accompanied by a vibrating motion; cables are loosed, and we move. Waves arise |