NOTES

New Zealand Tablet, 3 July 1919, Page 26

NOTES

"The Glamor of Dublin" / Many moons ago we reviewed a little book which has since been , welcomed with delight in many English papers. We believe the Irish Times had a harsh word to say of it, because the Sinn Fein note was clear in every page; but harsh words from such as the Irish limes are always a real tribute to anything good Long after we had reviewed it, "Civis" seized on the passage which we quoted about the visit of Queen Victoria and her husband to Trinity College, where at the request, of the Dons they wrote their royal names in the Book of Kelts, Naturally, an Irishman resented the fact that any foreign sovereign should be allowed by the phihstines of T.C.D. to perpetrate such an en- ?™ l ty, Well, it came to pass that one day when "Ci vis "--the New Zealand Piggott—was in a more than usually poisonous No-Popery and anti-Irish mood he dug up an. old Tablet and waved this extract before the jaundiced eyes of the class of senseless and ignorant bigots for whom he caters. "Civis" did not tell them that it was a quotation. It does not matter whether he did or no. We merely mention the fact lest anybody should suppose that "Civis" could do anything decently or honorably. And the poor old dotard fumed and danced with rage at this further manifestation of the "Tablet man's" reluctance to fall down and adore "the greatest of British sovereigns" who deemed it a sacred duty to build up the power of Prussia—even at the expense of England's honor, as on that day when she prevailed with her Ministers to allow Germany to plunder Denmark. So much for. our local Piggott. Let us, s however, see more of the little book of which we speak. 'lt is a far more delightful subject. "'*"'', '."'■»' p . Mangan : ■- :: '-'-]' : - : - ■»■'- In his wanderings about dear old Dublin the author is continually reminded, of Ireland's immortal dead. Thus, one day, passing by Heath Street Hospital, the,memory.. of Mangan,' who died there, comes back, poignantly:. .'. ..... : """ '.'■": ... ''Hither' they brought him tenderly from the cellarage, where the. latest fever had sucked him down, little hope now left for. this pale amber- of a man cast high for., eternity.!' 'Humble, affectionate, and prayerful,' he mutters thanks and extenuation all the time as though these favors that his nurses delight to do him were tremendous gifts. And this sole thing he brought for worldly possession, a worn copy of the poet Keats is his plaything and solace in the bed; until" on the eighth day he turns his parchment face and lucent eyes to 'the wall'arid closes as a flower that has surrendered its : beauty. And the word passing in the street ' Marigan v is ' dead - -'Dead l echo' answers, ' but Rosaleen lives still r nobler ; now !' " ; ■' : ' ;: ■

St. Patrick Here is { , another fancy:- v< ..<-,"■-■„,-%./-.:•..v.; as ~ this" pilgrim goes by. ° A : simple-looking ' bedesman -truly^^ eyes.- that r meditate : -great

hereafter, quiet-gowned and sandalled in r: the huirible palmer f s 4 way, T r though under his;mean, apparel j somewhere the looms of heaven are moving over his heart.' And as he picks his f steps over the ford ; of Baile Ath Cliath there by .the ;Whi€wqrth Bridge \of our \ day see that aged boatman bow and cross himself —thus by some divine premonition --enlightened., of God, and knowing as the palmer moves up and away .through.Oxmahstown ,;by the Tara road that he indeed |is Patrick yet to touch the heart of Kings .and, so to be. forever sung by river folk and mountainy men in this Ireland that he will sanctify to all her .shores.'' /if v .. , ■-..

Wolfe Tone's Wake v.Uy?j - &■:&'• '-'Uncover awhile before this No. ;6. For upstairs on the second floor now the. great Wolfe Tone is holding his last levee, a ; crown ; of-candle flames about his head and no laurel at all, though Victory somewhere hiding weaves a chaplet and Fame ..prepares the trumpet for her lips. Poor dead Tone "with his sword scabbarded for eternity, and. this blue uniform with the sun-gold braid about his neck, a Monarch,, indeed of the Might-have-been. "And ever in and past him the silent lovers and friends spell-bound as they look on their fallen flower. And by him there' his father and mother overwhelmed with the. horror of it now. For they had great, possessions surely who owned such a. son, most potent leader though laid out in death. Magic is in this shell and the memory of his soul may work miracles apace, as these good Britishers know who order his funeral straightway. And so to Bod'enstown with two mourners only by Government decree, there by the crumbling southern wall to lie dreaming and waiting it must be, dreaming again of the fulfilment of that high hope for which ho dared all." '

Pamela "One night, too, the beautiful Pamela that, lured all painters for her face, was near her agony at Moira House. A cool, clear sunset it. was in May of 1798 with the gardens full of the coming of spring. And this Lady Fitzgerald of the tender eyes that seemed to fold her audience about her, Pamela, the bride that shall grow lovelier as time mellows her, what visions and forebodings are now in her heart ! ..For every hour that she is out of sight of her husband is perilous separation in the year of all. tragedies. And this air, so rich with the breaking of buds, is tenebrous and fearful as she looks from her window and sees strange colors in the stars. 'My lady is a little pale,' says one ; and, 'Not ill, I pray,' another; and . all are bowing towards her, their affections flowing down to her like an eddy. But the dance and the music rise again, .and Pamela is in the midst though .dizzied. And lo ! there is a strange turmoil in that other house up in Thomas Street, though from the ball-rooms here you cannot see or catch any sound save only by the telepathy of perfect love which she knew, In a : swift fight the candles are knocked over and one of them rolls towards the corner until suddenly it strikes into a liquid and is still; and recovering it this Major Swan is smeared with blood, for Captain Ryan is bleeding into pools on the floor and will die, while that wounded' fellow "still clutches a dagger as they overpower him on the bed. So march, Lord Edward—thine enemies have 'caught thee now ! Gallant fiery fellow, the mock of nameless redcoats, thy flame shall glow and burn above a million who sold their cause." ; ', ; ' "'"''';\ ;,v; :;: -

Old Dublin Dreams .'^^f' 0 -^ Old Dublin dreams .they are—-those rapid' sketches from the pen of a genius. } And in Dublin one can dream as it is possible only in ; a few cities of the world. There are three or ; four which shall always be dreamland for us. - There is Rome, "lone mother" Rome, where the past never dies, , and where we learned to dream in the sunlight of days gone down. -.There is Florence, sleeping now by the storied Arno and still rich in -Stirring memores of the-old Italian saints, scholars, and artists ! who^ made her < glorious. Arid Pans , too

which for one Irish boy who "wandered" among its streets always had something; to tell, % not only of: x3ays':ibf Louis and Blanche and Napoleon,: but Of otheirdays when brave f men came hither to fight for any lost 7 'Cause provided that the soldiers of the King who broke %he Treaty of Limerick were arrayed against them ; in-paM© —the Wild Geese from the West,-with song on their lips; and laughter lin their eyes, -;and the love c of >Erin and the hate of England ■; deep in their hearts. Dublin; however, as this little book proves, is fullest \>frdreaj«ia for; an Irish man woman. ■At every corner you meet the noble i dead—the - -saints,- the : poets, the patriots:. Tone y Lord i Edward, - Mahgan, and the beautiful Pamela lovely as Erin ..and. as sad in her "desolation) move there \ yet, with r Swift and Stella, Goldsmith, Grattan, the great Brian, Mitchel, and : Parnell.