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to which if we would assent, you would speedily undertake what we had so often commanded. When that was granted, and your going onward promised by divers letters, we received by this bearer now fresh advertisement, that all you can doe is to goe to the frontier, and that you have provided onely for twentie daies' victuals. In which kind of proceeding wee must deale plainly with you and that counsell, that it were more proper for them to leave troubling themselves with instructing us, by what rules our power and their obedience are limited, and to bethink them if the courses have bin onely derived from their counsells, how to answere this part of theirs, to traine us into a new expence for one end, and to employ it upon another; to which wee could never have assented, if wee could have suspected it would have been undertaken before we heard it was in action. And therefore wee doe wonder how it can be answered, seeing your attempt is not in the capitall traytor's countrey, that you have increased our list. But it is true, as wee have often said, that wee are drawne on to expence by little and little, and by protestations of great resolutions in generalities, till they come to particular execution of all which courses, whosoever shall examine any of the arguments used for excuse, shall finde that your owne proceedings beget the difficulties, and that no just causes doe breed the alteration. If lack of numbers, if sicknesse of the army, be the causes, why was not the action undertaken when the army was in a better state? If winters approach, why were the summer months of July and August lost? If the spring was too severe, and the summer that followed otherwise spent-if the harvest that succeeded was so neglected, as nothing hath beene done, then surely must we conclude that none of the foure quarters of the yeere will be in season for you and that counsell to agree of Tyrone's prosecution, for which all our charge was intended. Further, we require you to consider whether we have not great cause to thinke that the purpose is not to end the warre, when yourself have so often told us, that all the petty undertakings in Leinster, Munster, and Connaught, are but loss of time, consumption of treasure, and waste of our people, until Tyrone himself be first beaten, on whom the rest depend.

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you not see that he maketh the warre with us in all parts by his ministers seconding all places where any attempts be offered? Who doth not see that, if this course be continued, the warres are like to spend us and our kingdome be

yond all moderation, as well as the report of the successe in all parts hath blemished our honour, and encouraged others to no small proportion. We know you cannot so much fayle in judg ment as not to understand that all the world seeth how time is dallied, though you think the allowance of that counsell, whose subscriptions are your echoes, should serve and satisfie us. How would you have derided any man else that should have followed your steps? How often have you told us, that others which preceded you had no intent to end the warre? How often have you resolved us, that untill Loughfoyle and Ballishannin were planted, there could be no hope of doing service upon the capital rebels? We must, therefore, let you know, that as it cannot be ignorance, so it cannot be want of meanes, for you had your asking-you had choice of times-you had power and authority more ample than ever any had, or ever shall have. It may well be judged with how little contentment wee search out this and other errors; for who doth willingly seeke for that which they are so loth to find-but how should that be hidden which is so palpable? And, therefore, to leave that which is past, and that you may prepare to remedy matters of weight hereafter, rather than to fill your papers with many impertinent arguments, being in your generall letters, savouring still, in many points, of humours that concerne the private of you our lord-liefetenant, wee doe tell you plainly, that are of that counsell, that we wonder at your indiscretion, to subscribe to letters which concerne our publike service when they are mixed with any man's private, and directed to our counsell table, which is not to handle things of small importance.

"To conclude, if you will say though the army be in list twentie thousand, that you have them not, we answere then to our treasurer, that we are ill served; and that there need not so frequent demands of full pay. If you will say the muster-master is to blame, we much muse then why he is not punished, though say we might to you our generall, that all defects by ministers, yea though in never so remote garrisons, have been affirmed to us, to deserve to be imputed to the want of care of the generall. For the small proportion you say you carry with you of three thousand five hundred foot, when lately we augmented you two thousand more, it is to us past comprehension, except it be that you have left still too great numbers in unnecessary garrisons, which doe increase our charge, and diminish your army, which we command

you to reform, especially since you, by your continual reports of the state of every province, describe them all to be in worse condition than ever they were before you set foote in that kingdome. So that whosoever shall write the story of this yeere's action, must say that we were at great charges to hazard our kingdome, and you have taken great paines to prepare for many purposes which perish without understanding. And therefore, because we see now by your own words, that the hope is spent of this yeere's service upon Tyrone and O'Donell, we doe command you and our counsell to fall into present deliberation, and thereupon to send us over in writing a true declaration of the state to which you have brought our kingdome, and what be the effects which this journey hath produced, and why these garrisons which you will plant farre within the land in Brenny and Monaghan, as others, whereof we have written, shall have the same difficulties.

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Secondly, we looke to hear from you and them jointly, how you think the remainder of this year shall be employed; in what kind of warre, and where, and in what numbers; which being done, and sent us hither in writing with all expedition, you shall then understand our pleasure in all things fit for our service; until which time we command you to be very careful to meet with all inconveniences that may arise in that kingdome where the ill-affected will grow insolent upon our ill successe, and our good subjects grow desperato when they see the best of our preserving them.

"We have seene a writing, in forme of a cartel, full of challenges that are impertinent, and of comparisons that are needless, such as hath not been be fore this time presented to a state, except it be done now to terrify all men from censuring your proceedings. Had it not bin enough to have sent us the testimony of the counsell, but that you must call so many of those that are of slender experience, and none of our counsell to such a form of subscription. Surely howsoever you may have warranted them, wee doubt not but to let them know what belongs to us, to you, and to themselves. And thus expecting your answere wee ende, at our manor of Nonsuch, the fourteenth of September, in the one-and-fortieth yeere of our raigne, 1559."*

The Queen's anger being thus dis

played, and the difficulties of the Irish government increasing, Essex resigned and returned to England, there to meet the tragic termination of his eventful career, known to every reader of history.

Essex was succeeded by Charles Blount, Lord Mountjoy, one of the ablest commanders of the reign of Elizabeth, and, as events afterwards proved, not less able in the council. O'Neill, during the interregnum that followed Essex's return, had strengthened himself by alliance with the Spaniards, and had largely increased, and effectively disciplined his forces. He was abun dantly supplied with money from Spain, and the zeal and confidence of himself and his followers were elevated by the favour of the Pope, who had sent a phoenix-plume to him, as the champion of the faith.

To record the various incidents of the struggle which ensued, would occupy a greater space than we can afford: suffice it to say, that for two years it continued ; and that, notwithstanding Spanish aid, to the number of four thousand men, the conduct, valour and perseverance of Mountjoy, were eventually rewarded by the complete defeat of the Irish at Kinsale, the capitulation of the Spaniards, and the complete subjugation of the whole island. O'Neill himself, the last to yield, at length submitted-renounced the name and privileges of an Irish chieftain-accepted from the crown a new grant by letters patent of a part of his old territories-and allowed the county of Tyrone to become "shire-ground," in which English judges, and sheriffs, and juries, might thenceforth administer and execute justice.

The Queen died almost immediately after the treaty with O'Neill: it was confirmed by James, and, for a short time, O'Neill lived in apparent cordiality with the English government. Rumours, then, began again to spread of northern rebellion; stories were whispered that the veteran chief would not be inactive; and the privy coun cillors in Dublin were deliberating on striking some decisive blow, to crush the disaffection spreading through Ul In the midst of their discussions and preparations, O'Neill and Rode

ster.

Wills' "Lives of Illustrious Irishmen," vol. ii., pp. 119–127.

rick O'Donnell, Lord of Tyrconnell, both fled to the Continent, whether to seek foreign aid, or to escape the malice of their enemies, is not very clearly ascertained. Be this as it may, from the Continent they never returned, and the future destiny of O'Neill is involved in uncertainty. The more generally received account represents him as dying in Rome, at the age of eighty, and assigns to the same place the graves of his two sons, and of O'Donnell.

Of the same era with the chieftain whose fortunes we have just recorded, united to him by sympathy of sentitiment, and the companion of the most important portion of his career, was HUGH ROE O'DONNELL. The house of O'Donnell was only less celebrated and powerful than that of O'Neill. Hugh was the eldest son of Sir Hugh O'Donnell, chief of Tirconnell, and succeeding early to an inheritance of vast power and extent, it became an object to every party to secure his adhesion. His fosterage, that strange custom of the Irish which, separating the child from the parent, entrusted the direction of the first years to a stranger, had been passed with Cahir O'Dogherty, a chief connected with O'Neill. Knowing the position this youth would fill, and hearing fresh stories every day of his youthful popularity, Sir John Perrott and his council formed a design, as infamous and as extraordinary as any in history, to seize him while yet a lad; and a ship laden with sack, of which the Irish were extravagantly fond, was sent to Lough Swilly. Thither flocked the neighbouring chiefs and people, and among these Hugh. Unsuspecting any design, he and his friends went on board; were at once seized; the vessel stood out to sea, reached Dublin, and delivered Hugh to the council. He was thrown into a dungeon, and for three years held fast in prison. At length, in company with Henry and Art O'Neill, sons of Shane, who had also, on another occasion, been seized, he escaped from his gaolers, eluded their pursuit, and, after three days of unparalelled suffering from the most inclement weather, during which Art O'Neill perished, arrived, with scarcely life remaining, at Glendalough, the fastness of the O'Byrnes, then in alliance with O'Neill. By their aid, and under the guidance of a confidential servant of O'Neill, he contrived to elude VOL. XXXII.—NO. CXCI.

the vigilance of the English garrisons, and crossing the Liffey at a ford above Dublin, passed through Meath and Louth, and so on to Dungannon, where Hugh O'Neill himself, in person, received him.

To relate the career of O'Donnell, down to the period of the defeat of the Spaniards, at Kinsale, were but to repeat the story of O'Neill. After that fatal blow to the rebel struggle, he appears to have abandoned the hope of prolonging the contest with such troops as he and O'Neill could then bring into the field: and, accordingly, he embarked with Don Juan and the Spaniards for Spain. He was kindly received by Philip, and promised ample assistance of men and money; but, after waiting nine months at Corunna, in expectation that the king would fulfil his promise, his impatient spirit could rest no longer, and he started for Valladolid, where the king then

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Of the queen's captains opposed to these chiefs, the most celebrated, and the most successful, was Charles Blount, Lord Mountjoy. To the energy, prudence, military skill, and determination of character of this general, more than to any other cause, the complete extension of the dominion of England over this island may be ascribed. He was of noble birth, being the second son of Lord Mountjoy; was originally intended for the bar; and had studied at Oxford, with the highest distinction. A singular instance of his early aspiring and selfconfidence is narrated by Moryson: "While yet a child, his parents having had his picture taken, he insisted on being drawn with a trowel in his hand, and the motto, 'Ad re-edificandam antiquam domum.'' In 1594, his elder brother died, and he succeeded to an inheritance, embarrassed by the folly of three generations. His grandfather had accompanied Henry VIII. to the Field of the Cloth of Gold, and shared

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in all the extravagance of his reign; whatever property survived his expenditure had been either lost by the neglect of a father, who, indulging the expensive dreams of alchemy, bad no leisure to bestow on the ordinary affairs of life—or dissipated by the profligate career of a brother, who, in a few years, effectually ran through his life and his means. Aspiring, taught in the discipline of adverse fortune, self-denial, and study, Lord Mountjoy became the architect of his own greatness. In his domestic affairs unhappy-for his ardent attachment to the daughter of Essex had been rejected by her father, and the lady coerced to marry Lord Rich-his whole mind was bent on action. Sparing in his confidence, reserved, selfrelying and self-possessed, slow of anger, and determined in his purpose, he steered his way successfully through the currents of faction and intrigue, and over the obstacles of a narrow fortune, and unprosperous circumstances; and having at length obtained in Ireland an adequate field for the exercise of his great qualities, acquired an eminence of fame and station, inferior to no general or statesman of the age. James, among whose faults illiberality in rewarding those who served him cannot be reckoned, created him Earl of Devonshire, and bestowed on him a considerable grant of lands.

After his return from Ireland, he, unfortunately for his own fame and her honor, met Lady Rich, the object of his early affection. Her divorce from Lord Rich ensued, and was followed by her marriage with Mountjoy. Their youthful attachment, the unjustifiable cruelty of Lord Essex in severing them, and, if we credit the annalists, much to condemn in Lord Rich's own conduct, unquestionably

soften the culpability of this error, but cannot wholly excuse it, or remove the shade it throws on Mountjoy's character and reputation—a character and reputation otherwise of unblemished lustre.

On the stormy period of which we have treated, one only name of those connected in any degree with Ireland, sheds the soft and humanizing light of literature the name of SPENSER. At Kilcoleman, in the county of Cork, his great poem was penned; and from the beautiful country which surrounded his dwelling he derived no little of its scenery. It was there, too, that Raleigh paid him that visit, which has been celebrated in his own immortal verse, where the earlier books of the "Faëry Queen" were read, and the praises of his guest stimulated its completion. That meeting would, indeed, be a scene and subject for Mr. Landor's next imaginary conversation. The two worlds of reality and of imagination, of action and of contemplation, rise in their whole extent before us, as we pronounce the names of the discoverer of Virginia and the author of the "Faery Queen." Kindred in their genius, kindred in their fates-what did they not accomplish? The hero, from whose energy the spirit of British enterprise received the impulse which has extended its supremacy to the remotest extremities of the globe; the poet, whose genius gave the first inspiration to a literature the noblest in the world. What, too, did they not suffer? Raleigh perishing on the scaffold, after years of imprisonment, the victim of calumny and injustice; Spenser terminating a life which experienced every variety of human vicissitudes, by a death of want and

sorrow.

B.

THE SISTERS.

I.

Come hither, gentle sister,
And raise me in the bed';
Now place yourself behind me,
And press this weary head;
For I have much to tell you,

When all are fast asleep

You need not be alarmed

Though I should wildly weep.

II.

There now, I'm nicely settled,
And we are all alone,

With nothing to distress us

But the wintry wind's sad moan, And the flickering of that taper,

Where a winding-sheet I seeAh! death, that comes too soon to some, Brings happiness to me.

III.

I've placed me, dearest sister,

That you may not mark my face;

And yet the tale I have to tell

Knows nothing of disgrace.

But weeks have grown to months, dear,

And months have swelled to years,

Since first I had within my heart

This fountain of sad tears.

IV.

Do you remember, darling,

An eve in leafy June?

The sun had set in crimson light,
And gently rose the moon.
We wandered by the river's side-
Henry our friend was there;
You surely must remember it,
That sunset was so fair.

V.

Your heart is wildly beating-
I feel each heavy throb!

Oh! lay me on the pillow

I'll give back sob for sob!

I long thought that he loved me—
That eve I heard him say

That you were all the world to him-
Oh! turn not thus away.

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