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561

SONNET.

Joy of my soul! I would that thought had power
To bring thee to me at this gentle hour;

Now while the moonlight streaming through the trees
Blends with the music of the evening breeze:
Shedding on Sound the loveliness of Light,
Breathing on Light the melody of Sound;
Till a melodious moonlight floats around,
And music seemeth as a part of sight:
But dearer far the starlight of thine eyes,
And the fair music of thy gentle lips,
And 'neath thy gaze I look on fairer skies
Than those above: but absence flings eclipse
On all around, and earth and sky feel drear
Since thou art not, my gentle Fanny, here!

THOMAS POWELL.

LIGHT AND SPEECH.

O SPEECH! it is a wondrous thing,
As beautiful as strong;

It clotheth every living thought

In the melody of Song!

'Tis as the blessed light from Heaven
Upon the hills and streams;

It does not make them, but they owe
Their beauty to its beams!

In vain the bending stars would hang
Enamour'd o'er the Earth,

Which looketh up, with looks of love,

Too fond for even mirth!

And even thus, the glorious mind

Would brood o'er chaos Thought,

Had not the light of Speech sprung forth,
And love and music wrought!

THE BLACK MAIL.

A TALE OF IRISH HISTORY.

FOR centuries subsequent to the invasion of Leinster, the English power was circumscribed in Ireland. The Normans, who inhabited the Pale, as a limited district around the metropolis was called, were regarded merely as the successors of the Esterlings; as a people to be at once respected for their bravery and plundered for their wealth. The distant ardriaghs, or chieftains, were too much occupied in defending their little kingdoms, or invading those of their neighbours, to bestow any consideration on the English colony. The times were favourable to foreign encroachment. A people who delighted in war, and whose narrow views were limited to immediate policy, were incapable of foreseeing the consequences that resulted from unjust assumption and tolerated possession. But if the ignorance of the period is reproachful to the Irish, most certainly the English cannot expect to escape censure. Under circumstances the most auspicious, they failed to acquire either security or dominion. Cooped up in Dublin, they dared not dispute the sovereignty of distant toparchs, who continued for centuries to administer Irish laws, to call native feudal parliaments, to coin money, and perform all other duties which the economy of their state demanded.*

Nor was this the only indignity offered to the crown of England, if its wearer was REALLY the monarch of Ireland; for the seat of royalty — the capital of the Pale - was frequently compelled to purchase the forbearance of neighbouring chieftains by annual tribute, denominated Black Mail. To do the hardy colony justice, they were not insensible to the disgrace; and when opportunity presented itself, were not slow to resume their independence, and refuse compliance with the compact to which their necessities, not their wills, consented. Such, however, were the misfortunes of the Pale, that it was seldom in a condition, for any length of time, to withstand the hostile irruptions of the Birns, Tooles, and Cavanaghs, whose possessions stretched from the Barrow to within a few miles of Damegate. When plagues and famines and they were frequent in their recurrencehad thinned the inhabitants, or when distant and fatal expeditions -- for they once invaded Scotland—had impaired their resources, the O'Birns or the O'Tooles were sure to pour down upon them, and retire only with hostages, as an assurance that the Black Mail would be paid in future.

A combination of calamities had sometimes, previous to the year 1308, compelled the citizens of Dublin to submit to a renewal of the indignity; and Robert le Decer, the son of the provost, was detained as an hostage for the fulfilment of the terms imposed by the O'Toole of Glendalough. In these days, as well as in modern times, political compacts endured no longer than as it suited the interests of the contracting parties to act up to the terms of the treaty; and hostilities were frequently commenced at the expense of those who remained as securities in the hands of the enemy.

One fine morning, in the summer of 1308, a large crowd of persons had assembled in the neighbourhood of Thomasgate: it consisted chiefly of females, children, and elderly men; and from the anxiety which was pictured upon every countenance, it was apparent that they were in expectation of some intelligence in which the inhabitants of Dublin were deeply

See Ware, Harris, &c. &c.

interested. Some were engaged in audible prayer, and some endeavoured to banish fear from themselves and others by prognostications of good news. A few citizens mounted guard upon the battlements; and though the duty of a sentinel was then but imperfectly understood, they felt that a certain responsibility was imposed upon them, and accordingly showed, in their consequential strut backwards and forwards, that they were vain of their arms, and perhaps more vain of their persons. The bow was flung upon their backs, the quiver was filled with arrows, and one or two were clothed in coats of mail. To the unwieldly two-handed sword the Irish skean was added, and here and there the halbert lay carelessly against the wall of the prison, for Newgate then stood about the spot where Thomas Street now

commences.

"I wonder," said one, "how do Negle's irons agree with M'Baltho's legs within here," and he knocked his heel against the exterior wall of the prison. "He is little concerned, I wot," replied his companion; "for he'll soon dance an Irish trot on Hog's Green." "Not by himself," said the first. "I hope our townsmen have been successful enough to afford a few to keep him company." "An 'twere a pity, too," said a third, "for what worse is he than the O'Birns and O'Tooles: he steals fat cattle and fat aldermen, and so do they. Yet we hang the one and pay Black Mail to the others."""Tis all a case," said the first speaker: "the heads of the wild Irish rebels should grace these spikes here, that stand in want of their usual ornaments, since the M'Tuhills forced us to strip them; but, please Heaven, we will recover our credit by and bye, and hang every man of them. There can be no peace for the Pale while an Irishman lives." "That's but too true," rejoined the third; "and this had long since been the case, were not the colony dealt hard with by plagues and famines."

*

Here the conversation was interrupted by a voice from the top of the battlements, calling out, "They come! they come!" This was followed by a shout of exultation; and in a few minutes the black banner, which the citizens bore in times of hostility, became visible on the heights of Kilmainham, in the midst of columns of dust, which intimated the approach of the cavalcade. The crowd now simultaneously rushed forward to greet the martial citizens, whose heroism on this occasion was crowned with victory. John le Decer, the provost, for Dublin had then no lord mayor, bowed to the greeting multitude as he rode in the van of his companions, who followed in that disorder which then characterised the movements of hostile numbers. Here and there the head of an Irish enemy was elevated upon a pole; and the sight of each bleeding fragment only served to heighten the joy of the citizens. Huddled together, about twenty prisoners marched along amidst the jeers and insults of their captors; but, undismayed at the probable fate which awaited them, they acknowledged the ungenerous treatment of the victors by looks in which scorn and despair were intimately blended. These kerns exhibited in their persons a fair specimen of the Irish soldier of the period, and the tout ensemble was such as to elicit the admiration of their enemies. The absurd customs of other climes had not been then introduced into the island; nature was allowed to exert her privileges, and the result was, the full developement of manly beauty. Tall, but elegantly proportioned, their sinewy limbs and elastic frames indicated the utmost activity; and it would seem that they were conscious of the possession of physical beauty, for their dress was studiously adapted to give the utmost

These were for the purpose of ornamenting the city gates; a barbarous custom which prevailed in England and Ireland until a very late period. See Harris, Ware, &c.

+ See Cambrensis.

effect to their personal endowments. The thruse adhered closely to the limbs; and the vest, like ancient armour, accommodated itself to the inequalities of the body; while the mantle of the kerns, from its shortness, being not longer than a modern pelerine, did not conceal any part of the body, or restrain the wearer from personal exertion. At the period to which we allude the barred, or cap, was not universally worn. Fond of long flowing locks, the hair was considered as a sufficient covering for the head; and, unlike the Saxons †, who shaved the upper lip, the Irish, in anticipation, as it would appear, of modern times, shaved the chin, but cherished formidable mustachios. Such was the dress worn by the captives, who now stared around them with vague feelings of regret and revenge; while the proud citizens, clothed in their leathern doublets, regarded them as mere ferocious savages, whom it was meritorious to rob and butcher, when either could be done with impunity. Beside this prey, there were a hundred head of black cattle, the sight of which increased the general joy. All was now bustle and gladness; for the public had no sympathy with the few who mourned the relations who were killed or had fallen into the hands of the enemy, as the Irish were then called. In a short time the city authorities were assembled. They congratulated each other on the success of their HOSTING into the O'More's country; for though the citizens depended chiefly on trade, they sometimes imitated the barons and great men of the age, by resorting to very summary, if not very honest, means of enriching themselves. Flushed with victory, they resolved to follow up their success, and instead of paying Black Mail to the M'Tuhills, they determined to make an incursion into their country. Here, however, a difficulty arose it was recollected that Robert le Decer was an hostage at Glendalough, and any violation of the compact on their parts would certainly place his life in some danger. This puzzled the good citizens; and after some hours spent in discussion, they adjourned, undecided, to digest that, along with other matters, in the hall of the tholsel, where those good things were prepared, which martial as well as peaceable citizens delight to discuss.

The gates were shut, and the citizens had sought repose, when the provost was shown into a dark, damp dungeon of the city prison. "Do you sleep, M'Balthor?" inquired the provost, as he held the lantern up to the face of a man, who, wrapped up in his mantle, sat silently upon a rude stone, the only furniture of the place. "Sleep!" repeated the prisoner, sarcastically, looking around him, and snuffing up the filthy odour of the place. "Where, Saxon, would you have me stretch myself? besides, I can't afford to sleep just now." "For planning some new scheme of robbery." "Of vengeance, you mean,' interrupted the prisoner. "It may be so," returned the provost," but first the laws must take vengeance upon you. You have burnt our dwellings, you have butchered our citizens, you have robbed us- "Of useless POLLARDS ‡," interrupted the prisoner. "But," he continued, rising, "who are you who make the charge? Only this day you have pillaged an Irish country, and butchered an unoffending people, and yet you come and reproach M'Balthor." "You mistake me," said the chief magistrate: "I come on an errand of friendship, if you choose to seek the English protection, and accept of English gratitude." The prisoner raised his eyes in wonder. "You know the M'Tuhills of Glendalough," continued the provost: "within the palace, as he calls it of that chieftain, is detained, as an

Tacitus describes some of the German tribes as similarly dressed; and an old writer becomes indelicate from the minuteness with which he dwells upon particular parts of the Gothic wardrobe. † See Strutt. A base, or rather a clipped, coin.