disgust. Heat and dust, crowd and stench (il faut le dire), made it impossible to stay long; but these do not annoy the natives. There were many hundred tents, all ragged, like the people, and adorned with tawdry rags instead of flags; many contented themselves with a cross on a hoop; one had hoisted a dead and half-putrid cat as a sign! The lowest sort of rope-dancers and posture-masters exercised their toilsome vocation on stages of planks, and dressed in shabby finery, dancing and grimacing in the dreadful heat till they were completely exhausted. A third part of the public lay, or rather rolled, about drunk; others ate, screamed, shouted, and fought. The women rode about, sitting two or three upon an ass, pushing their way through the crowd, smoked with great delight, and coquetted with their sweethearts. The most ridiculous group was one which I should have thought indigenous only to Rio de la Plata: two beggars were seated on a horse, who, by his wretched plight, seemed to supplicate for them; they had no saddle, and a piece of twine served as reins.

"As I left the fair, a pair of lovers, excessively drunk, took the same road. It was a rich treat to watch their behaviour. Both were horridly ugly, but treated each other with the greatest tenderness and the most delicate attention. The lover especially displayed a sort of chivalrous politeness. Nothing could be more gallant, and, at the same time, more respectful, than his repeated efforts to preserve his fair one from falling, although he had no little difficulty in keeping his own balance. From his ingratiating demeanour, and her delighted smiles, I could also perceive that he was using every endeavour to entertain

her agreeably, and that her answers, notwithstanding her exalté state, were given with a coquetry, and an air of affectionate intimacy, which would have been exquisitely becoming and attractive in a pretty woman.

"My reverence for truth compels me to add, that not the slightest trace of English brutality was to be perceived; they were more like French people, though their gaiety was mingled with more humour, and more genuine good nature; both of which are national traits of the Irish, and are always doubled by poteen (the best sort of whisky, illicitly distilled)."

In the "Anthologia Hibernica," for April 1793, "An Ode on Donnybrook" appeared, of rather a sentimental cast, which was followed, in the June number of that periodical, by "An irregular Ode" on the same locality, after a passage in which the song now given seems to have been copied.

"Ah! muse débonnair,

Let us haste to the fair;

'Tis Donnybrook tapsters invite.

Men, horses, and pigs,

Are running such rigs,

As the cockles of your heart will delight.

Such crowding and jumbling,

And leaping and tumbling,
And kissing and stumbling,

And drinking and swearing,

And carving and tearing,
And coaxing and snaring,
And scrambling and winning,

And fighting and flinging,

And fiddling and singing;

Old Dodder, enchanted, refuses to flow,

But his mouth waters fast at each kiss and each blow."

66

Donnybrook is situated on a mountain stream, called the Dodder, over which there is a handsome bridge with lofty arches. In dry weather the quantity of water is so inconsiderable, that a stranger would be very apt to use the sarcastic observation of the Spaniard, who, on viewing the magnificent bridge that spanned the contemptible Manzanares, near Madrid, exclaimed, Es menester, vender la puente, para comprar agua;'-(They ought to sell the bridge to buy water;) but in a few hours after a heavy fall of rain in the mountains, the Dodder becomes a river indeed, and swells up to the very summit of the arches. This has been mentioned for the sake of noticing a peculiarity in the name Donnybrook, little brook.' It is curious that the word 'brook' hardly ever occurs in English speech or writing, except in the sense defined by Johnson,

a running water, less than a river;' and is always associated with the idea of flowery meads, &c.; but in Ireland it appears to be employed in its true and original sense. The streams, which, in the county of Wicklow, during rain, burst or break from the hills, are always, by the common people, called brooks. Now, the Anglo-Saxon, bɲoc, from whence it evidently comes, signifies a torrent,' torrens, xpageous; and it is clear that it is derived from bɲocan, the participle of bɲecan, 'to break.""

Air-" Ballynafud."

To Donnybrook steer, all you sons of Parnassus-
Poor painters, poor poets, poor newsmen, and knaves,

To see what the fun is, that all fun surpasses—

The sorrow and sadness of green Erin's slaves.

C

O, Donnybrook, jewel! full of mirth is your quiver,
Where all flock from Dublin to gape and to stare
At two elegant bridges, without e'er a river:

So, success to the humours of Donnybrook fair!

O you lads that are witty, from famed Dublin city,
And you that in pastime take any delight,
To Donnybrook fly, for the time's drawing nigh

When fat pigs are hunted, and lean cobblers fight;
When maidens, so swift, run for a new shift;

Men, muffled in sacks, for a shirt they race there; There jockeys well booted, and horses sure footed, All keep up the humours of Donnybrook fair.

The mason does come, with his line and his plumb;
The sawyer and carpenter, brothers in chips;

There are carvers and gilders, and all sort of builders,
With soldiers from barracks and sailors from ships.
There confectioners, cooks, and printers of books,
There stampers of linen, and weavers, repair;
There widows, and maids, and all sort of trades,
Go join in the humours of Donnybrook fair.

There tinkers and nailers, and beggars and tailors,

And singers of ballads, and girls of the sieve;

With Barrack-street rangers, the known ones and strangers,
And many that no one can tell how they live:

There horsemen and walkers, and likewise fruit-hawkers,
And swindlers, the devil himself that would dare,
With pipers and fiddlers, and dandies and diddlers,—
All meet in the humours of Donnybrook fair.

'Tis there are dogs dancing, and wild beasts a prancing,
With neat bits of painting in red, yellow, and gold;
Toss-players and scramblers, and showmen and gamblers,
Pickpockets in plenty, both of young and of old.
There are brewers, and bakers, and jolly shoemakers,
With butchers, and porters, and men that cut hair;
There are mountebanks grinning, while others are sinning,
To keep up the humours of Donnybrook fair.

Brisk lads and young lasses can there fill their glasses
With whisky, and send a full bumper around;
Jigg it off in a tent till their money's all spent,
And spin like a top till they rest on the ground.
Oh, Donnybrook capers, to sweet catgut-scrapers,
They bother the vapours, and drive away care;
And what is more glorious-there's naught more up-
roarious-

Huzza for the humours of Donnybrook fair!

GLASHEN-GLORA.

This lyric originally appeared, with the signature W. in the "Cork Constitution" newspaper of 4th June, 1824; and was introduced by the following note to the editor of that paper :-

"Mr. EDITOR,-Your politeness in inserting a few lines which I wrote on the death of Lord Byron (dated 18th May), induces me to request a place for the trifle I now send you in your poet's corner.

"A RAMBLER."