So late as the close of the seventeenth century, commissioners were sent over to Waterford and Wexford by

the English government.

county of Wickloe," Dean

"Nigh which places, in the

Story tells us, "there is good store of suitable timber, and other advantages for building ships, at easier rates than in England."

This lyric is to be found in several recent collections of songs, with the signature, "W. Kertland," attached to it.

When, from the new-formed pregnant earth,

Sprang vegetation's progeny,

The Irish oak, of ancient birth,

Arose the kingly forest tree.

Hail to the oak, the Irish tree,

And Irish hearts, with three times three!

Its verdure sickens where the slave,
To power despotic, homage gives;

But real Shillelah, with the brave,
True to the soil, luxuriant lives.
Hail to the oak, the Irish tree,

And hearts of oak, with three times three !

Our Druid rites have spread its fame;

Our bards have sung the noble tree;
Our sailors gain a deathless name,
Borne, on its planks, to victory.

Hail to the oak, the Irish tree,

And British tars, with three times three!

Still may its circling arms extend,

To guard our isles from foreign foes;
Its branching green head long defend
The Shamrock, Thistle, and the Rose.
Hail to the oak, the Irish tree,

And British hearts, with three times three!

OH! AN IRISHMAN'S HEART.

The comparison of an Irishman's heart to a sprig of Shillelah is an exceedingly happy one. When Pat's heart goes "thump" within his breast, a "whack" from the twig, which he can so skilfully handle, is sure to follow. There is a mysterious sympathy between his hand while it poises a Shillelah, and his heart while it swells for

"Old Ireland, his king, and his friend."

And then so sensitive is that heart of his, like a wellgreased and seasoned "bit of stick," it lights up, as touchwood, beneath that burning glass-the dark eye of a pretty girl.

The

To pursue the simile further is unnecessary. fearless way in which Jack Johnstone used to sing the following song, and the dexterous manner in which he accompanied it by flourishes of his Shillelah, will long be remembered by those who have witnessed his personification of the Irish character:

Oh! an Irishman's heart is as stout as Shillelah,
It beats with delight to chase sorrow and wo;
When the piper plays up, then it dances so gaily,

And thumps with a whack for to leather a foe.
But by beauty lit up, faith, in less than a jiffey,
So warm is the stuff, it soon blazes and burns ;
Then so wild is each heart of us, lads of the Liffey,
It dances and beats altogether by turns.

Then away with dull care, let's be merry and frisky,

Our motto is this, may it widely extend

Give poor Pat but fair freedom, his sweetheart and whisky, And he'll die for old Ireland, his king, and his friend.

Should ruffian invaders e'er menace our shore,

Though the foes of dear Erin may strut and look big;
Yet, na bogh-a-lish,* my lad, they shall have it galore,
For Patrick's the boy that can handle a twig.
But the battle once over, no rage fills his breast,
Mild mercy still softens the heart of the brave;
For of valour, of love, and of friendship possessed,
The soldier of Erin still conquers to save.

Then away with dull care, whilst swigging so frisky,
Our toast shall be this, may it widely extend

Thus blest with fair freedom, our sweethearts and whisky,
Here's success to dear Ireland, our king, and our friend.

Equivalent to "Never mind it.".

LOCAL SONGS.

THERE is scarcely a city, town, village, seat, grove, river, lake, or glen in Ireland, the charms of which, or of some fair damsel thereunto appertaining or belonging, do not, as Pope says of the groves of Eden,

"Live in description, and look green in song."

That Irish local songs should be so abundant is readily accounted for, not merely by the general fondness for such compositions, but by a curious custom, in compliance with which every traveller in Ireland made verses in praise of certain places through or by which he passed. Dr. Smith, in his

History of Kerry," thus notices this whimsical practice: The road from the other parts of Kerry into this barony (Iveragh) runs over very high and steep hills, that stand in this parish (Glanbehy), called Drung and Cahircanawy; which road hangs in a tremendous manner over that part of the sea that forms the Bay of Castlemain, and is not unlike the mountain of Penmenmaure in North Wales, ex

cept that the road here is more stony and less secure for the traveller. There is a custom among the country people to enjoin every one that passes this mountain to make some verses to its honour, otherwise, they affirm, that whoever attempts to pass it without versifying, must meet with some mischance; the origin of which notion seems to be, that it will require a person's whole circumspection to preserve himself from falling off his horse. They repeated to me," adds Smith," several performances, both in Irish and English, made on this occasion; but this mountain is not like that of Helicon, consecrated to the Muses, for all the verses that I heard were almost as rugged and uncouth as the road on which they were made, for which reason I shall not trouble the reader with them, although I had several copies given me for that purpose."

This remarkable custom is also mentioned in "A Pastoral, in imitation of the First Eclogue of Virgil," published at Dublin in 1719.

Full often have I made a song for thee;
Lest some disaster should attend my life,

My tender children, or my loving wife."

A writer, under the nom de guerre of Dr. Mac Slatt, presumed to be Mr. Windle of Cork, says, "The sound or strait between Clear and Sherkin (in the county of Cork), is called Gascanan, and is