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THE DONERAILE LITANY.

The popularity of this jingle in the south of Ireland is remarkable; and is, among many other instances, a proof of the national fondness for rhyme, and the admiration of any production which displays a command over it, however rude or grotesque the exhibition may be.

The Doneraile Litany consists of a series of anathemas upon that town, strung together, it appears, in consequence of the author having there lost his watch, of Dublin manufacture; in what manner is not stated, and, possibly, it has escaped the author's recollection, who, from the bardic propensity exhibited in Ireland towards intoxicating draughts, subjects himself to the suspicion that the loss he so vigorously deplores may have occurred while he was under the influence of that spirit, or Irish goddess, addressed as

"Divine Malthæa."

The occurrence, however, took place upwards of thirty years ago; since when, it is trusted, the morality of Doneraile has very much improved.

In 1808, Mr. Patrick O'Kelly published at Dublin, "Poems on the Giant's Causeway and Killarney, with other Miscellanies," among which was introduced "the Litany for Doneraile." This volume was followed in 1812 by another, named "The Eudoxologist, or an Ethicographical Survey of the West Parts of Ireland," and which contains several attacks upon an unfortunate poet, who had ventured to put forth "a Defence of Doneraile," in reply to O'Kelly's

malediction. Ultimately, a recantation, entitled "The Palinode," most humbly dedicated to Lady Doneraile, appeared in a volume of poems, entitled "The Aonian Kaleidoscope," printed by O'Kelly at Cork, in 1824.

Prefixed to this are "Verses addressed to the Author," by J. J. C. (Callanan, see p. 130), and P. S. (Dr. Sharky, of Cork); of course, ironically intended, but which Mr. O'Kelly seriously entertains. In the latter, the lines alluded to, but not correctly quoted, by Mr. Lockhart in his "Life of Sir Walter Scott," occur. Speaking of the galaxy of genius which adorned the reign of George IV., after noticing Moore, P. S. says,—

"Scott, Morgan, Edgeworth, Byron, prop of Greece,
Fate, in thy death, shall blast the hopes of peace;

O'Kelly, too, of proud Iberian blood,

Shall, from Castalian fountain, pour the flood

Of bardic song

*

The ancient glories of our native song,

In him shall live, to him those bays belong."

O'Kelly's introduction to George IV. is thus related in the "Roscommon Gazette." "When his majesty was in Dublin, our countryman, the poet, Patrick O'Kelly, Esq., of the county of Galway, waited on him at the Phoenix Park. His majesty, when Prince of Wales, having subscribed his name for fifty copies, the poet took that opportunity to deliver his work. He was announced to the king by Sir Benjamin Bloomfield, who ordered the baronet to hand the poet fifty pounds, which Sir Benjamin accordingly did. Mr. O'Kelly declined accepting it, declaring that he would rather see

his majesty than receive the money, and requested Sir Benjamin to say so, which was complied with. The king ordered him to be introduced. When admitted into the royal presence, his majesty received him most graciously, hoped he was well, and then observed that Mr. O'Kelly was lame as well as Lord Byron. And Sir Walter Scott, too,' said Mr. O'Kelly; and why should not the Irish bard be similarly honoured? for

6

If God one member has oppressed,

He made more perfect all the rest.'

At which the king smiled.

"The Marquess of Conyngham, who was present, requested Mr. O'Kelly to express himself, extempore, on Lord Byron, Sir Walter Scott, and himself; to which the poet replied, in the following impromptu : —

• Three poets for three sister kingdoms born,
One for the Rose, another for the Thorn;
One for the Shamrock, which will ne'er decay,
While Rose and Thorn must yearly fade away.'

At which the king and his court laughed heartily."

O'Kelly seems to have been fond of associating his fame as a poet with that of Byron and Scott. Mr. Lockhart, in his Life of the latter, says,-"I find recorded in one letter (August 1825), a very merry morning at Limerick, where, amidst the ringing of all the bells in honour of the advent, there was ushered in a brother poet, who must needs pay his personal respects to the author of 'Marmion.' He was a scarecrow figure, attired much in the fashion of the strugglers—by name O'Kelly; and he

had produced, on the spur of the occasion, this modest parody of Dryden's famous epigram:

'Three poets, of three different nations born,
The United Kingdom in this age adorn :
Byron, of England; Scott, of Scotia's blood;
And Erin's pride, O'Kelly, great and good.'

"Sir Walter's five shillings," adds Mr. Lockhart, "were at once forthcoming; and the bard, in order that Miss Edgeworth might display equal generosity, pointed out, in a little volume of his works (for which, moreover, we had all to subscribe), this pregnant couplet:

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Scott, Morgan, Edgeworth, Byron, prop of Greece,

Are characters whose fame not soon will cease."

The worthy inhabitants of Doneraile do not seem to have taken the slightest offence at O'Kelly's Litany; on the contrary, it has been a subject of much amusement to them. The Editor recollects to have heard it sung, in 1821, by a ballad-singer through the streets of that town, much to the amusement of his auditors, and the profit of the vocalist.

tale!

Alas! how dismal is my
I lost my watch in Doneraile;
My Dublin watch, my chain and seal,
Pilfered at once in Doneraile.

May fire and brimstone never fail
To fall in showers on Doneraile;
May all the leading fiends assail
The thieving town of Doneraile.

As lightnings flash across the vale,
So down to hell with Doneraile;
The fate of Pompey at Pharsale,
Be that the curse of Doneraile.

May beef or mutton, lamb or veal,
Be never found in Doneraile;
But garlic soup, and scurvy kail,
Be still the food for Doneraile.

And forward as the creeping snail,
Th' industry be of Doneraile;
May Heaven a chosen curse entail
On rigid, rotten Doneraile.

May sun and moon for ever fail
To beam their lights in Doneraile;
May every pestilential gale

Blast that cursed spot called Doneraile.

May no sweet cuckoo, thrush, or quail, Be ever heard in Doneraile;

May patriots, kings, and commonweal, Despise and harass Doneraile.

May every Post, Gazette, and Mail,
Sad tidings bring of Doneraile;
May loudest thunders ring a peal,
To blind and deafen Doneraile.

May vengeance fall at head and tail,
From north to south, at Doneraile;

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