O clear-eyed poets! ye who can descry
Through vulgar heaps of dead where heroes lie—
Ye, to whose glance the primal mist is clear-
Behold, there lies a trampled noble here!
Shall we not leave a mark? shall we not do
Justice to one so hated and so true?

If ev'n his hand and hilt were so distain'd-
If he was guilty, as he has been blamed-
His death redeem'd his life. He chose to die
Rather than get his freedom with a lie.
Plant o'er his gallant heart a laurel-tree,
So may his head within the shadow be.

I mourn for thee, O hero of the North-
God judge thee gentler than we do on earth!
I mourn for thee, and for our land, because
She dare not own thee martyr in our cause;
But they, our poets, they who justify-
They will not let thy memory rot or die!

SALUTATION TO THE KELTS

HAIL to our Keltic brethren, wherever they may be,
In the far woods of Oregon or o'er the Atlantic sea;
Whether they guard the banner of St. George in Indian vales,
Or spread beneath the nightless North experimental sails-

One in name and in fame

Are the sea-divided Gaels.

Though fallen the state of Erin, and changed the Scottish land, Though small the power of Mona, though unwaked Lewellyn's band,

Though Ambrose Merlin's prophecies are held as idle tales,
Though Iona's ruined cloisters are swept by northern gales:

One in name and in fame

Are the sea-divided Gaels.

In Northern Spain and Italy our brethren also dwell

And brave are the traditions of their fathers that they tell :

The Eagle or the Crescent in the dawn of history pales
Before the advancing banners of the great Rome-conquering

Gaels.

One in name and in fame

Are the sea-divided Gaels.

A greeting and a promise unto them all we send ;
Their character our charter is, their glory is our end,—
Their friend shall be our friend, our foe whoe'er assails
The glory or the story of the sea-divided Gaels.

One in name and in fame

Are the sea-divided Gaels.

DENIS FLORENCE MCCARTHY

DENIS FLORENCE MCCARTHY was born in Dublin in 1817. He began to write for The Nation in 1843 and was a frequent and valued contributor to it, both in prose and poetry. He also wrote for The Dublin University Magazine and other periodicals of the day. He was appointed Professor of English Literature and Poetry in the Catholic University of Ireland in 1854, and died in 1882.

He was an industrious writer, having produced five volumes of original verse as well as numerous translations from Calderon, and his work was always on a high level. The strain of indignant satire in 'Cease to do Evil' does not often recur— his imagination dwelt rather on the sweet and gracious aspects of life and Nature, and these he rendered in verse marked by sincere feeling, wide culture, and careful though unpretentious

art.

BALLADS, POEMS, AND LYRICS was published in Dublin, 1850; ODE ON THE DEATH OF THE EARL OF BELFAST, 1854; UNDER-Glimpses AND OTHER POEMS, 1857; THE BELL-FOUNDER AND OTHER POEMS, 1857; THE CENTENARY OF MOORE, 1880. His collected poems have been published (with many omissions) in Dublin 1884. In 18,6 he edited THE BOOK OF IRISH BALLADS and THE POETS AND DRAMATISTS OF IRELAND,

'CEASE TO DO EVIL-LEARN TO DO WELL.'1

O THOU whom sacred duty hither calls,

Some glorious hours in freedom's cause to dwell,
Read the mute lesson on thy prison walls—

If haply thou art one of genius vast,

Of generous heart, of mind sublime and grand,
Who all the spring-time of thy life hast passed

Battling with tyrants for thy native land-
If thou hast spent thy summer, as thy prime,
The serpent brood of bigotry to quell,
Repent, repent thee of thy hideous crime—
'Cease to do evil-learn to do well!'

If thy great heart beat warmly in the cause

Of outraged man, whate'er his race might be-
If thou hast preached the Christian's equal laws,
And stayed the lash beyond the Indian sea-
If at thy call a nation rose sublime—

If at thy voice seven million fetters fell,
Repent, repent thee of thy hideous crime-
'Cease to do evil-learn to do well!'

If thou hast seen thy country's quick decay,
And, like a prophet, raised thy saving hand,
And pointed out the only certain way

To stop the plague that ravaged o'er the land-
If thou hast summoned from an alien clime

Her banished senate here at home to dwell,
Repent, repent thee of thy hideous crime—

Cease to do evil-learn to do well!'

1 Inscription on the prison where O'Connell, his son John, T. M. Ray, Thomas Steele, Richard Barrett, John Grey, and Charles Gavan Duffy were imprisoned on the verdict for conspiracy, afterwards quashed by the House of Lords.

Or if, perchance, a younger man thou art,

Whose ardent soul in throbbings doth aspire,
Come weal, come woe, to play the patriot's part
In the bright footsteps of thy glorious sire!
If all the pleasures of life's youthful time

Thou hast abandoned for the martyr's cell,
Do thou repent thee of thy hideous crime-
'Cease to do evil--learn to do well!'

Or art thou one1 whom early science led

To walk with Newton through the immense of heaven, Who soared with Milton and with Mina bled,

And all thou hadst in Freedom's cause hast given?

Oh! fond enthusiast-in the after-time

Our children's children of your worth shall tell!
England proclaims thy honesty a crime-

'Cease to do evil-learn to do well!

Or art thou one whose strong and fearless pen
Roused the young isle, and bade it dry its tears,
And gathered round thee ardent, gifted men,
The hope of Ireland in the coming years—
Who dares in prose and heart-awakening rhyme
Bright hopes to breathe, and bitter truths to tell?
Oh dangerous criminal, repent thy crime-
'Cease to do evil-learn to do well!'

'Cease to do evil '-aye! ye madmen, cease!
Cease to love Ireland, cease to serve her well,
Make with her foes a foul and fatal peace,

And quick will ope your darkest, dreariest cell.
'Learn to do well-aye! learn to betray-

Learn to revile the land in which you dwell; England will bless you on your altered way'Cease to do evil-learn to do well!'

1 Thomas Steele, a young Protestant of Cromwellian descent, whose enthusiasm for liberty led him to volunteer among the Spanish revolutionists under Mina.'

2 C. G. Duffy.

SPRING FLOWERS FROM IRELAND

ON RECEIVING AN EARLY CROCUS AND SOME VIOLETS IN A
SECOND LETTER FROM IRELAND

Mr. Aubrey de Vere has written the following criticism on this poem :It seems to me to be one of singular-indeed, of extraordinary-beauty. It has that union of pathos and moral thought, with fineness of execution, which belongs to some of Wordsworth's later poems. The love of our native land has never been expressed with finer feeling, or with a finer handling, than in this poem.'

WITHIN the letter's rustling fold

I find, once more-a glad surprise :

A little tiny cup of gold

Two lovely violet eyes ;—

A cup of gold with emeralds set,

Once filled with wine from happier spheres ;
Two little eyes so lately wet

With spring's delicious dewy tears.

Oh little eyes that wept and laughed,

Now bright with smiles, with tears now dim ;

Oh little cup that once was quaffed

By fay-queens fluttering round thy rim.

I press each silken fringe's fold

Sweet little eyes, once more ye shine;

I kiss thy lip, oh ! cup of gold,

And find thee full of memory's wine.

Within their violet depths I gaze,

And see, as in the camera's gloom,
The Island with its belt of bays,

Its chieftain'd heights all capped with broom;
Which, as the living lens it fills,

Now seems a giant charmed to sleep-
Now a broad shield embossed with hills,

Upon the bosom of the deep.

When will the slumbering giant wake?

When will the shield defend and guard?

Ah, me prophetic gleams forsake

The once rapt eyes of seer or bard.