"No one can doubt, however, from the internal evi- | glance; viz. whether the real Meeting of the Waters dence, as well as the external polish, of the verses in (Hibernicé urge, Anglicé whiskey) was not to be sought question, that although the ideas they contain may have in the fusion and commingling of common spring-water Occurred to the poet's mind in the Vale of Avoca, yet with that distilled ambrosial fluid called alcohol, either in that the verses were the product of a subsequent period, the shape of dew from the mountain, or in regularly mawhen the memory of a happy visit came mellowed upon nufactured spirit ? the heart; and that they must have proceeded from a recollection of the general effect of the whole valley, or rather from a vivid sensation excited by any particular "In all ages of the world, and in the various migrations of the children of Noah from the plain of Shinar in Mesopotamia (GW TO TOTO) to the boundaries of the earth, there has existed in the fancy of mankind a strong predilection for such spots as were enlivened by the junction of two or more streams, and recommended by the meeting of waters.' * spot. "Whether Mr. Moore was conscious of these recondite matters, in localising his feelings at the junction of the Avonmore with its sister streamlet, we cannot say ; but there is in his rich vein of poetry, and the drift of his effusions generally, much more than is dreamt of in our philosophy. "It was the strong conviction of this undoubted truth, that set the mind of the late respectable P. P. of Watergrasshill, the Rev. Andrew Prout, on the scent; he feeling satisfied that something beyond what meets the ear could be elicited from the lyrics of Moore. That worthy divine, in a commentary on the Irish Melodies (as yet in MS.) puts a query to the reader, the sagacity of which, we think, will strike every Irishman at the first of all circles, and the idol of his own,' was wont to pay You may talk about songs while the kettle is singing- Oh! 'tis all very well in the sunshine of summer INNISCATTERY ISLAND. of INNISCATTERY. are to credit the legend which Mr. Moore has followed Inniscattery, or the Island of Scattery,* near the mouth in his version of the dialogue between St. Senanus and "The spacious Shenan [Shannon] spreading like a sea," has been styled in an Irish MS. called the Book of Balli mote, "the wonder of Ireland." And well it may, if we Inniscattery was anciently called Innis Cathai-without doubt from the Irish word cata, which signifies worshipthe Island of Worship. The word Scattery seems to be derived from the legend respecting the exclusion of women, and literally means, the island devoted to one species: [rcat, a kind, species, gender; and pe, belonging to.--O'REILLY the lady who sought his holy isle, in a vessel guided by an angel, "Through wintry winds and billows dark,' and was inhospitably repelled. This lady, it appears, was no less charming a person than St. Cannera of Bantry, a celebrated beauty in her day; but Senanus adhering literally to the stern doctrine of St. Augustin, that even angels are not to be loved, to prevent all chance of such a result, most rudely refused the visit of the pious sister. character of the saint, passing over all which, we proceed Our author here enters minutely into the personal to the Island of Scattery, where he took up his abode; and here we are informed that-" No fewer than eleven | tance, with a provost or warden, who might dispend a churches are recorded to have been built upon Inniscat- hundred marks yearly. There was, adds Sexton, much tery by its patron saint, who is stated to have died there devotion in the island to an image called St. Shenard, on the 1st of March, 544. The word church, however, and a great old church, wherein never went a woman thirteen hundred years ago, and even some centuries after, since the death of that saint. He recommends the place had a very different meaning, as applied to a building, as a proper situation for a fortress, which, with one ship from the import of the word at present. It was in fact a of sixty tons and two or three galleys, would keep mere cell, hermitage, sanctuary, or even grave, as the name O'Brien, Desmond, (that is to say their countries, the ceil or call, which corresponds with the Latin cella, im- present counties of Clare, Limerick, Kerry, and Cork,) ports, and which in the form of kil is to be found so fear- and all the Irish from Waterford to Galway in awe." fully compounded in Irish local names, that perhaps no The following are the verses alluded to it in the forebetter motto could be found for Holbein's Dance of going :Death' than Pat's well-known speech of 'I've been at Kilmany, and I'm going to Kilmore.' "Connected with the former sanctity of Inniscattery, the most remarkable object at present is the Round Tower represented in the Plate. We have used the word remarkable' advisedly; for this tower is an important land-mark in the navigation of the Shannon, and it is also probably the most ancient building upon the island. It is said to measure one hundred and twenty feet in height, and springs from a base twenty-two feet in circumference. Although scatched and rent by lightning, the original roof remains. While its fellow pillar-towers, as at Kildare and Cloyne, have been compelled to assume embattlements, that of Inniscattery retains its primitive covering, and stands proudly crowned with that barrad, or conical cap, which, according to Walker, the national architects and sculptors of Ireland regarded as a dress becoming even to angels. "Although it has been asserted that eleven churches were built upon the island by Senanus, the remains of seven churches or cells only are now to be traced; from a glance at which it is evident to the eye of the architectural antiquary, that the date of the building of three of these ruins must have been long subsequent to the days of the ungallant saint. The cathedral, (which is seen in the Plate, close to the Round Tower), St. Mary's church, and one other,' observes a modern pilgrim to Scattery, are in pointed style, but possess no particular attraction. The neighbourhood of the latter is used as a burying ground, and the interior of the cathedral has been cleared away and converted by the irreverent islanders into a ball-alley.' Three more ancient structures, one of them called Simon's own, stand to the north-west of the cathedral, the largest of which is but twenty-two feet long, and the smallest twelve, and of proportionate breadth. Teampul an eird, i. e. the church on the height, is of similar dimensions, and equally unadorned. The light was admitted into each of these Liliputian temples by one or two very small windows, little superior to loop-holes, so narrow, that, when entirely open, we must be struck with surprise, how the light which they admitted could have sufficed.' "During the ninth and tenth centuries, Inniscattery suffered severely from the incursions of the Danes. But through the revolutions caused by Danish invasion and Anglo-Norman conquest, its community strictly main tained the founder's vow against the admission of a woman into the island-even to refusing the rights of sepulture. In one case only, that of the abbess of a neighbouring convent, on the main land, whose dying request was to be buried at Inniscattery, a compromise appears to have been made. On the shore, at low-water mark, a large stone is pointed out, called Leacht an bhan banaha, i. e. the funeral stone of the holy woman. It was raised in consequence of St. Simon's rule, which was firmly adhered to for several ages, to permit no woman, either living or dead, to enter his sacred island.' ST. SENANUS AND THE LADY. "Oh, haste, and leave this sacred isle, And I have sworn this sainted sod THE LADY. "Oh, Father, send not hence my bark; Thy morning and evening pray'r; The lady's prayer Senanus spurn'd, Till morning's light delay'd, "To the stranger who converses with the peasant-guide whom he accidentally meets in the Valley of Glendalough, various are the anecdotes told, illustrative of the affectionate spirit of St. Kevin, These traditions assume even greater beauty by contrast with the wild and rugged scene to which they are attached- the retreat of wolvest and the den of outlaws. "Covered with brown heath, or more sable peat,' to use the expression of Dr. Ledwich, the summits of the stupendous mountains, by which Glendalough is encom passed, reflect no light,' and the sides being almost perpendicular, the gloomy shadows fling a solemn and broad repose over the Valley of the Seven Churches ;—its ancient round tower, like the gnomon of a dial, marking to the pensive mind, by the motion of its shade, the quiet progress of days into the revolutions of centuries. "With what a burst of natural eloquence does the Rev. Cæsar Otway picture forth Glendalough— 'Meet spot for contemplation wise.' In a metrical life of St. Senanus, which is taken from an old Kilkenny manuscript, and may be found among the "Acta Sanctorum Hibernia," we are told of his flight to the island of Scattery, and his resolution not to admit any woman of the party; he refused even to admit a sister saint, (St. Cannera,) whom an angel had taken to the island for the express purpose of introducing to him. The following was the ungracious answer of St. Senanus, according to his poetical biographer :Cui praesul, quid foeminis Commune est cum monachis Nec te nec ullum aliam Admittemus in ensulam. See the Act. Sanct. Hib. p. 610. "The last was killed in 1710. cerning the palls sent into Ireland, quoted from Ware's Bishops, by Ledwich. "Glendalough (A. D. 1214) is so waste and desolate, and hath been so for forty years, that of a church it is become a den and nest of thieves and robbers; so that more murders are "In a Memoir for the reformation of Munster, which committed in that valley than in any other place in Ireland, ocwas drawn up for the information of the English govern-casioned by the waste and desert solitude thereof.'-Letter conment in the reign of Henry VIII. by Edmund Sexton, who was Mayor of Limerick in 1535, and who had previously distinguished himself by his efforts to advance the English interest in Ireland, Inniscattery is described as an island within the mouth of the Shannon, distant eight miles from Loop-Head, at the northern entrance of that river. Upon the island the merchants of Limerick dwelt, and bad castles and stone houses of their own inheri render himself until the close of 1809, took shelter for some "Dwyer, a notorious outlaw of 1798, and who did not surpious motives. Out of St. Kevin's Bed he made an extraorditime amid the ruins of Glendalough, actuated, it is said, by nary escape from a party of Highlanders in pursuit of him, by plunging into, and swimming across the lake." [Of this we have given an account in a former Journal.] Surrounded as it is by mighty mountains, dark winding glens-all its lakes and streams, rocks and waterfalls, in keeping, and accordant association with a place of ruins, ruins that testify of altars and of a priesthood overthrown a work-shop made desolate-a people scattered and peeled; where the long, continuous shadow of the lofty and slender round tower moves slowly from morn till eve, over wasted churches, crumbling oratories, shattered crosses, scathed yew-trees, and tombs, now undistinguishable, of bishops, abbots, and anchorites-walking its round as time's sentinel, and telling forth to the Ancient of Days how many suns have run their diurnal and annual course since these holy men of old had descended to their graves.' "In this solitude dwelt St. Kevin, during the early ages of Christianity; before these wilds' had become sanctified by the sound of many voices mingling in sweet and blessed psalmody. Ages, we have said; for Kevin appears to have lived in three centuries--the fifth, sixth, and seventh; and here he died, on the 3d of June, A. D. 618, having, according to Usher (p. 494), nearly completed the uncommon and venerable age of one hundred and twenty years.' He was the founder of the fame of Glendalough; and Kevin is still remembered as its patron saint. "It is time, however, that we should arrive at our immediate subject-the Bed of St. Kevin; and in this there is some difficulty, as the reader possibly has felt, and will perceive when it is explained that the bed in question is a cavity in the face of the nearly perpendicular side of Lugduff, marked in the Plate by a cross at one end, and the figure of an anchorite at the other; and that this hollow is at a fearful elevation above the dark waters of a deep lake. Whether the bed was excavated by art, or was originally a natural recess, has not been satisfactorily demonstrated. Probably, nature, like the genuine inventor, gave the idea, and art, stepping in with a little aid, seized upon the hint, adapted it to her own purposes, and carried off the reputation. Beyond conjecture we venture not. Although the gigantic and incomprehensible works of man in the olden times remain monuments which excite our wonder-the grotesque formations of rock are so various and surprising as to silence rational conjecture. Indeed, it is often difficult to say, as in the case of the rocking stones, how far the operations of nature have produced the object of our marvel, or how far it may be ascribed to human design and execution. In such matters we pretend to no skill: our respect for geology is far higher than our attainments in that ennobling science." Our author then proceeds in a very pleasant way to recite some amusing anecdotes connected with the bed; but as we shall have occasion in a following column to revisit the spot, for the present we close our observations on the Landscape Illustrations, simply telling the reader fond of Irish lore served up with true Irish taste, that here he will find a treat. KEVIN'S BED. A DESCRIPTIVE POEM. BY MAJOR COSBY. There is some particular place in Ireland-we forget the spot-in which it is said, that "it never rains but it pours;" and sure we are, that the readers of the Journal will be disposed to apply the idea to the many works on Ireland which have recently issued from the Irish press. Some short time since the traveller could scarcely find a work in print having reference to Ireland-at present there is scarcely a month passes without some new publication appearing, descriptive of its scenery, or having reference to its ancient or modern history. As we Ourselves printed the little work whose title is given above, we shall not (least we should be accused of an unfair partiality) express an opinion upon it, more than to say, that in the poem, various legends, connected with different parts of the County of Wicklow, are intro Kevin's Bed, a Descriptive Poem of various Scenery in he County of Wicklow, in Ireland; and Legendary Tales of St. Kevin. To which is added, a Correct Guide as to Disances and Accommodation. By Major Cosby. duced, and that the Appendix contains a correct and useful itinerary for tourists. The following we select from among the legends of the lake: LEGEND OF ST. KEVIN'S DOG. "The church now built, the roof resounds, The lands he knew belonged to Byrne. Knowing O'Toole an hollow cask, Away, good dog, the mountain take, Skims the smooth lawn and midland green; Of valley's space and height to climb, The septs of O'Tooles, O'Byrnes, and O'Cullens, ruled over this part of the country. + Mountains round the lakes, which open on the east to Rathdrum in one direction, and Anamoe in the other. In order to complete his round, When, lo! Spring leaps the high Cathedral wall, THE DESERTER, OR AN IRISHMAN'S WAY OF TELLING A STORY. taste did I mind him, be rason of me bein' fond of devarsion, an' so I let him keep his larnin' to himself, and sure enough its himself that was larned, and cud spake Latin as fast as" "I suppose somewhat faster than you speak English,” interrupted Wilmot dryly. "Och bother-there was a taste o' difference, any how, but howsomediver, Sur, he was a great man entirely Well, one mornin' I gets a letther from my sisther, down in Wicklow, (the Lord bless her, and mark her to grace,) and she tould me to come up to her weddin' that was to happen with Darby Malowney-and be the same token, Darby's mother was my mother's "Oh, let alone your relations, or we shall never hear the end of it." couldn't think there was harm in that, but I soon "Just as you please, Sur. Well, I axed lave of the sargint, sorra take him, and bekays there was no great liken between huz, he wouldn't let me; an' shure its myself wouldn't stay from Peggy's weddin' for the king himself, and so I tuk Frinch lave, an' threw aff me re gimentals, and popp'd into a country man's coat, so then I looked for all the world like myself come to myself again, so crassin' the salt saes wanst more, I landed agin in the great city of Dublin, and great's the pity the rich sort won't live in so purty a place; but if Dan Leaving home is always attended with distressing feel he'll be afthur taching thim, not to be spendin' their O'Connell, long life to him, has any thrue pluck in him, ings, but quitting one's country for the first time is parti- good mony in furren parts, with the Frinch and the likes cularly painful. Each object that catches your eye at parting, recals some painful recollection. o' them, bekays its a mortyal shame, and the ruination of The hills, plains, and all around, seem then more interesting than Ireland, so it is. Well thin findin' myself like a lark out ever. You gaze on them with an intensity of feeling, and of a cage, I just stepped into a frind's house on the quay, the swoln heart impedes the respiration as the reckless to take the shiver o' the sae aff me, and to drink a health vessel dashes through the foaming waves, and hurries to myself, that I left behind in Englint; and shure I you from the cherished spot; cach moment new objects found the deffer, yer honor, bekays it made me forget that are presented to the fatigued and anxious eye, and at the the king and I wasn't frinds ye see, an' so as I was conclusion of this panoramic view, the distance throws a veil over the faded scene, until at length the wearied vi mischief should come acrass me but an officer, and so by goin' down the quays to set aff for Wicklow, who the sion is liberated from its painful task, as nought remains rason o' the dhrop I tuk, I didn't think I wasn't a soger, but "all heaven above, all sea around us." It was in such an' well become me, I ups wid my hand quite rigglar to a moment as this that as Wilmot paced the quarter deck, slute him-bad win to ye, says I to myself, the minnit I he beheld his native mountains receding from his view. done it, and he seen I was bothered or somethin, and so Kingstown had already disappeared, and the Rochestown he axed me was I a soger. Myself was niver given to tellhills were scarcely visible. He felt that each wave im-in' a lie, but the ould boy got betune me for wanst-an' pelled him farther from those beloved scenes, and he could not refrain from indulging in melancholy reflections on the prospect of quitting Ireland perhaps for ever. He turned from the vast and monotonous expanse of sea and sky, and endeavoured to calm his agitated feelings, by examining the little world on which he stood. Around the mast he perceived a crowd collected, and curiosity induced him to investigate the cause. A sergeant had just liberated two unfortunate deserters from their fetters, as there then existed no possibility of escape. They had the appearance of Irish peasants, and, commisserating their fate, Wilmot descended on the main deck to converse with them. Well, my poor fellow," said he to one of them, "how did you get into this plight ?" your honor." says I quite smart-"niver "You lie," says he, when he seen me git as red as his coat, and he offered to collar me. "Be asy," says I, "or more luck to me but I'il settle ye"-wi'd that my dear, he dhrew his swoord, and tuk me prisner, and there your honor's the long and the short of it." Wilmot commiserated his fate, and promised to exert his influence in Liverpool, on his behalf. He was then about to retire to the cabin, when Jim in a most insinuating tone addressed him. "I ax your pardin, your honour, and if it wasn't to bould-for ye see poor cratures like huz is allowed nothin' at all, at all, but a bit o' dry bred, and mighty cowld that has sich a tender heart, an' my blessin' be along wid comfort that same is, sure enough-and if your honor, Wilmot could not withstand this forcible appeal to his feelings and vanity, and returned to the quarter deck, wards he perceived Jim, with his friend in adversity, reoverpowered with blessings; and in a short time aftergardless of the frightful punishment that awaited them, indulging in whatever amusement presented itself, and soothing their misfortunes by powerful potations from that Lethe of Irish sorrows, 66 a drop of the crathur." "Och, sir, that's a long story, any how, and sorra bit o' me knows what il be the ind of it-och musha, may ye niver know the sorrow of misforchin, bekays its the mis-ye-an' its only tellin' truth, for no rason at all, at all, chief all out, an' makes many a man do an undecent have a sixpence, or so, to be afther drinkin' your honor's but bekays we're dry-and maybe your honor wouldn't turn, so it does. By reason of it, I was cotched by an health and prasperity." ould sargint with a durty shillin', for all the world like they cotch the trout with a shinin' fly-och, more sorrow to him every day he sees a pavin' stone, and the likes of them that takes in poor innocent crathers like huz; so ye see we wor perpethally marched about, all over the country, like a flock of geese, and myself begins to get mighty sick of it entirely. Well, and musha-shure Sir I'm quite unasy to be afthur keepin' your honor all this time in the cowld, talkin' with the likes of me, so I am-but as I was sayin' afore, our regiment was marched about tell we come all the way to Liverpool. Sorra bit o' me knows where it is, only its across the sae, bekays I doesn't know the geography o' the place at all at all, more blame to me, for Father Kearney, kind sowl, offered to tache me larnin', and make a man of me, so he did when I was nothin' but a bit of a gorsoon; but the sorra M. Dublin: Printed and Published by P. D. HARDY. 3, Cecilia.street, In London, by Richard Groombridge, 6, Panyer.alley, Paternoster-row; The Academy House, of which the foregoing is a correct sketch, is situated on the west side of Grafton-street, nearly opposite the Provost's house. It is not distinguished by any architectural ornament. In a country like Ireland, abounding with antiquities -high in reputation for ancient literature, and producing men of acknowledged talents in every walk of genius, it was long a national reflection that at a most enlightened period there existed no society of men under whose sanction and auspices these antiquities might be investigated, and the fugitive productions of genius, in other departments of literature, cherished and preserved. So early as the year 1683 an attempt was made by Mr. Mollyneaux to establish a society in Ireland, similar to the Royal Society in London. The temper of the times seemed very CZ. IV. NO. 17. unfavourable to such an institution. Though aided by the talents and local knowledge of the celebrated Sir W. Petty, who was elected its president, it languished for five years, and finally expired amid the distractions of the country. In 1744 a Physico-Historical Society was established. This Society appointed a committee to explore the antiquities of Ireland, and proposed to examine each separate county by a statistical survey-a plan which has since been so laudably acted on, but which yet remains to be completed. Under their auspices the indefatigable Smyth published his Histories of Waterford, Cork and Kerry. In the short space, however, of two years, their regular sittings ceased also, displaying a most extraordinary degree of national apathy in a country abounding with such testimony of former arts, and such capabilities 129 |