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Ho! my buck, said I, have I beat you out? Swallower of paving-stones, have you now met harder stuff? Devourer of zinc and ink-bottles, of wheel-barrows and wig-blocks, have you here found a block surpassing all ? He stopped on hearing me, for he is really a very sensible insect, or, as my friend George Caleb Beale says, a mighty cute cratur; and, by his dejected motions, appeared to reason with me for tasking him too hard. I therefore took back the essay, and it is still to be seen unhurt in the archives of the Cork P. and L. Society.

But what is all this to Mr Fogarty's poem? Nothing, I confess; but it is not every day I have an opportunity of writing for Blackwood's Magazine, and I may be excused for making the best of my time. As for the spider, I have put him on low diet of late, feeding him only with garbage. Among other trash, I gave him a London Magazine the other day to eat, but it went near killing him. He has been vomiting ever since, the dose was so nauseous; and what he principally throws up is their Cockney table-talk, and Weathercock's waggery.

I am digressing again, for in fact the spider goes between me and my sleep. Do not tell Mr Brand I have written to you about it, as I have a fine article on the subject for him. Entre nous, he pays shabbily ; sixpence a page

is no pay for original science. All I have to say to you about Mr F.'s poem, is to beg that you will print it with all sort of accuracy. The reading public of this city are highly delighted with it. I remain, Sir, your obedient servant.

H. Cork, Nov. 1, 1820. P.S.Our friend D desired me to ask you, why you did not answer the letter forwarded by him to you some weeks ago.*

An Epic Poem, in Sir Cantos.



Ορνις γας οι ισηλθε σιρησεμαι μεμαώτι
Aceros uyiwiTn5.

Iliad, M. 200.
The Eagle, lord of earth and sea,

Stooped down to pay him fealty. WORDSWORTH.
Wie flogen rechts, wie flogen links
Gebirge, Baum, und Decken!
Wie flogen links, und rechts, und links
Die Dorfer, Stadt und flecken.


Have any of my readers ever seen

A grisly ghost, or goblin of the tomb,
Or in calm midnight's solemn silence been,

Where these grim nothings fill the dreary gloom?

* We did receive a hoax, signed “the holder of two respectable and responsible situations ;” and we take this opportunity of requesting, that the wags of Cork will keep their humbugging to themselves, and not put us to the expense of paying postage for their jokes. Indeed we are astonished that so respectable a man as our able correspondent, who, we half suspect, may be our own old friend, Mr Holt, meddles in these matteri.


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(I ask them all, from sixty to sixteen,

From cheek of wrinkles to the cheek of bloom ;)
If there be one, he'll judge what terrors broke
On Daniel's soul, as thus the Eagle spoke :

“Good-morrow, Dan ! from yon high mountain's peak,

Where I sat brooding o'er my unfledged young,
I saw you here in sorrow : every shriek

Of woe you utter'd, drops of pity wrung
From out my heart; and knowing every creek,

And hole and corner, these dark wilds among,
I'm come to help you homeward, if I can;
But tell me first, what brought you here, my man.”

O Sir," says Dan, " I left my home, an' please ye,

To meet my neighbour, Paddy Blake, to-night,
At our ould trysting place, the Mountain Daisy,

With heart at ease, and spirits gay and light;
Ohone! Ohone! misfortunate and crazy,

I drank raw brandy, and was bother'd quite ;
And, 'pon my soul, I cannot tell quite clear,
The how or why I find myself just here.”

“ It is apparent," quoth! the Eagle strait,

“ That you've been fuddled, Dan, and more's the shame,
To see a decent man of forty-eight,

Stagger along, and lose the road he came;
Upon my word, 'twere well to let you wait,

And bring your neighbours to behold your shame;
For of all vices on the earth, I think
The worst consists in appetite for drink.

I knew you once, Dan, when you'd shrink aghast,
At sight of dram, or pint, or deadly noggin,

saint's and lady day you'd fast,
And for your sins inflict the wholesome flogging;
I fear me much these goodly days are past,

Since drink has stuck you (penance fit!) a bog in ;
My friendly hints, I fear, will go for nought,
If this night's cooling will not lend you thought.

“ However, as this bog is very wide,

And you are still an honest sort of chap-
Have never robb’d birds' nests, nor ever tied

Cosses to dogs or cats ;-I could, mayhap,
If you mount up upon my back astride,

Keep good look out, and shun the treach'rous nap,
Bring you, if flight your senses don't bewilder,
Straight home to Judy and the little childer.”

Dan listen’d as all culprits mostly do,

More to the comfort than the good advice;
And after sobbing forth a sigh or two,

Told his kind friend “he'd mount him in a trice,

* A cannister, or any other appendage tied to a dog's tail, is called in Ireland a Coss. Whether the word is pure English or not, I have not now time to enquire; Dr E. D. Clarke seems to think it is Latin, as he has observed it, he says, very frequently after peoples names in inscriptions, as IMP. CAESAR COS. This is a learned and plausible conjecture, and nearly as probable as Mr Galiffe's proof of the derivation of the language of Rome from that of Russia.

If he would promise, that in case he flew

Too quick”-a pause—“Old Nick would oft entice
Men in the shape of birds and beasts, so I
With him, (though Dan) no step to-night will fly.”

But when around the bog he cast a glance,

His home and fire, keen hunger and slow death,
Across his mind, in quick succession dance;

He sickens, trembles, and pants hard for breath.
“ If I could think,” (with bow and slight advance,)

“ That you were not”-(a sly look underneath
For cloven foot,) “ If I could think, I say,
There's no foul work, I'd gladly pelt away.”

The Eagle, with a look of high disdain,

Rustled his pinions loudly for the fight,
Nor deigned one word in answer-'twas in vain

For Dan to linger; here, for many a night,
Must he in chilling damp and cold remain,

No living thing to cheer his aching sight,
Unless he strode, a plan not quite en regle,
The glossy back of this majestic Eagle.

He groan'd assent. The bird stoop'd down in haste,

And Dan began his saddle to dispose
His foot upon a master-feather placed,

Mounted with care, and straigthen'd out his toes
Clung close his knees, and heartily embraced

The bird's proud neck, e'er he to flight arose ;
Then sticking both his heels into his side,
He soared aloft--let good or ill betide.

Up, up into the sky, a glorious flight,

In many an airy whirl the Eagle sped-
And gallant 'twere to see the grace and might

With which the bird his sail-broad pinions spread,
Cleaving, with feathery oar, the sea of light,

Which all around the silver moon-beams shed;
While on his back bold Daniel clung as stiff
As Sir Astolfo on his Hippogriff.

I've often heard of spirits in the air,”

Quoth Dan, “ but now I find 'tis all a lic;
Devil a drop can I see any where,

To wet my lips that grow so hard and dry ;
Stop, Mr Eagle, stop, for I declare

Your journey now is over, if you'll fly
Down to that dunghill yonder, for I see
My poor wife, Judy, looking out for me.”

Away, away, my steed and I,” so sung

Mazeppa's chronicle ; but Arab steed,
Nor that on which reluctant Gilpin hung,

Could fly with so much vigour or such speed;
Now skimming strait, now darting up they sprung,

As light as on the whirlwind floats the reed;
And as the bird still upward bravely flew,
Poor Daniel's Jude and dunghill fade from view.

+ Vid. Ariosto. By the way, Ariosto's description of Astolpho's journey to the moon contains many unauthentic particulars, as I shall probably mention hereafter.

“ Oh! stop, my Lord,” (he thought it best be mild)

You've past my house, I tould you so before,
Oh! an't I to be pitied ?-wife or child,

Or home, or DAISY, I'll ne'er visit more ;
The bog was bad, but sure 'twould set one wild,
Fly down, for God's sake, down there upon Whiddy ;*
I'll surely fall, my head has grown so giddy.

But answer came there none. The Eagle seemed

Bent for some distant quarter of the sky,
And well our luckless hero might have deem'd,

That he to earthly things had bid good-bye ;
For no one in their senses could have dream'd

Of such a journey. Here Dan gave a sigh ;
For now strait upward was the eagle speeding,
His prayers and lamentations little heeding.

Still on they fled ; and creature on the way,

Living or lifeless, to be found was none,
Except the Eagle and his rider ; they

Pursued their airy voyage all alone ;
But if the flight had happened in our day,

They might perhaps in company have gone
With Mr Wordsworth, who last year, I ween,
In crescent boat on the same track was seen.

(You'll find his flight described in Peter Bell,

Published by Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme, and Brown,
I own I like that poem passing well,

Though by your wits’tis laughed at and cried down.
Cheer up, Great Poet, loud thy fame will swell,

When thy detractors' names shall be unknown,
When all forgotten is the tiny crew,
Who quiz thee in the Edinburgh Review.) ;

Oh! what a view ! how noble is the sight!

Beneath them stretch'd the broad and rock girt bay,
And broader ocean, sparkling with the light

Of thousand stars, soon far behind them lay.
Hungry'st high head, and near it, dark as night,

Glangariffe's cliffs, and deep embowered way;
Oh ! Lord,” says Dan," unless my eyesight fail,
Yonder's the battery of ould Kinsale."

Soon earth, and sea, and mountain high were gone,

Nought was below them but the scudding cloud,
And still the bird was journeying gaily on,

And Dan still wept his sad mishaps aloud;

* Whiddy, a handsome island in Bantry Bay.

+ Hungry-hill, a most unpoetical, though not inappropriate name, for a high hill in he south of the county of Cork.

# Charles Fort. A map of the country (as recommended by Sir Walter Scott in his ady of the Lake) would greatly assist the understanding of the exact bearing of the diferent places commemorated in this flight. It would appear that the road to the moon, rom Bantry, in the Eagle's opinion, lay over Kinsale.

And higher as they fled, still brighter shone

The queen of night in vestal lustre proud ;
They near the moon ;-Now Dan indeed may quake,
All hope is past; his very eye-balls ache.

And well they may, as all around was light

Intensely strong ;-and every spot of Heaven
Sparkled and glitter'd in our hero's sight,

As tho' to be a sun each star was given ;
He saw the planets rolling on in bright

And steady course,-(to one he counted seven
Little round moons :) In short, with most 'twould pass,
That the whole firmament was lit with gas.

And here I'll take upon me to cut short

Our Eagle's flight, for 'tis not my intention
To weary out my readers, and extort

Unwilling patience ; suffice it to mention,
In course of time (the hour precise n'importe)

He reached the moon, his limit of ascension ;
I'm tir’d,” quoth he, and feel as if I'd swoon,
So Dan dismount, and rest there on the moon.”

“ And who the devil asked you, was it I,

To tire yourself a flying thro' the air ?
Sit on the moon! good Lord! what, up so high

To perch myself on that round body there!"
Cease," said the Eagle,” you had best comply,

Or with one shake i'll send you, I declare,
Back to the earth, and falling, you will shatter,
With mighty crash, your skull and bones to batter."

“ Stretch out your hand and throw your leg astride,

I'll leave you there a moment at the most,
I sorely want to rest my weary side,

Demur another second and your lost;"
Dan cursed him in his heart, but strait complied,

Seated himself as upright as a post,
And looked much like (astronomers may snarl)
A jolly Bacchus on a full-bound barrel.

He straddled as I said, and clasped it hard,

In momentary terror of a fall,
While the malicious bird, to fly prepared,

And leave his rider on the lunar ball;
Quoth he, stay there until your brains are aired,
I'll hardly come to help you

You shot a chick of mine last year, so Dan,
I think I now have paid you off-my man.

Away he fled, and left poor Daniel there,

Cursing and praying very piteously ;
Away he fled along the fields of air,

Down tow'rds the regions of the western sky,
Where thunder clouds were gathering; tho' elsewhere

The sky was cloudless. Daniel saw him fly
Fearless along the flashing mist, and fling ||
The innocuous lightning from his sable wing.

you call;


So Pliny, lib. 2. c. 55. Solana e volucribus aquilam fulma haud percutit ; quæ hoc armigera hujus teli fingitur. And again, lib. 10. cap. 3. Negant unquam solam hanc alitem fulmine examinatam : ideo armieram Jovis consuetudo judicavit. I am happy to add the testimony of Daniel O'Rourke to that of Pliny,

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