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She's death to all things living,
Since the November eve;
No living thing shall grieve.
THE DEAD AT CLONMACNOIS.
In a quiet watered land, a land of roses,
Stands Saint Kieran's city fair:
There beneath the dewy hillside sleep the noblest
Of the clan of Conn,
And the sacred knot thereon.
There they laid to rest the seven Kings of Tara,
There the sons of Cairbré sleepBattle-banners of the Gael, that in Kieran's plain of crosses
Now their final hosting keep.
And in Clonmacnois they laid the men of Teffia,
And right many a lord of Breagh;
Kind in hall and fierce in fray.
Many and many a son of Conn, the Hundred-Fighter,
In the red earth lies at rest;
Many a swan-white breast.
THE LAST DESIRE.
When the time comes for me to die,
To-morrow, or some other day,
“ What wilt thou ?” I shall say:
'O God, thy world was great and fair!
Have thanks for all my days have seen;
And things that might have been.
“I loved, I toiled; throve ill and well;
-Lived certain years, and murmured not. Now give me in that land to dwell
Where all things are forgot.
“I seek not, Lord, thy purging fire,
The loves re-knit, the crown, the palm;
In deep, eternal calm.”
SONG OF MAELDUIN.
There are veils that lift, there are bars that fall,
Fair, fair they shine through the burning zone
The cloudy stair of the Brig o' Dread
The music calls and the gates unclose,
WENTWORTH DILLON, EARL OF ROSCOMMON.
WENTWORTH DILLON, EARL OF ROSCOMMON, born about 1633, was nephew and godson to the Earl of Stafford. He was at the Protestant College at Caen when, by the death of his father, he became Earl of Roscommon, at the age of ten. He remained abroad, traveled in Italy till the Restoration, when he came in with King Charles the Second, became captain of the Band of Pensioners, took for a time to gambling, married, indulged his taste in literature, which was strongly under the French influence, and had a project for an English academy like that of France.
He translated into verse Horace’s ‘Art of Poetry,' Virgil's sixth Eclogue, one or two Odes of Horace, and a passage from Guarini's • Pastor Fido.' Of his original writing the most important piece is 'An Essay on Translated Verse,' carefully polished in the manner of Boileau, sensible, and often very happy in expression. He died Jan. 17, 1684, after a fervent utterance of two lines from his own version of “Dies Irae'
“My God, my Father, and my Friend,
Do not forsake me in my end”and was buried in Westminster Abbey.
Johnson says “ that he is perhaps the only correct writer in verso before Addison,” and Pope wrote:
“ To him the wit of Greece and Rome was known,
And every author's merit but his own."
FROM THE ESSAY ON TRANSLATED VERSE.
Each poet with a different talent writes,
Immodest words admit of no defense
Yet 't is not all to have a subject good, It must delight as when 't is understood.