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Show ) - GERALD GRIFEIN. There was no man among all the Irish poets so full of sweet, tender poetry as Griffin. His whole life was a poem. He had not transcendent powers like Moore; but more tears will be brought to the eye, and more piety to the heart, and more wise counsel tenderly and gently inculcated by reading one of Griffin's shorter pieces, perhaps, than j some of Moore's 'best. Griffin had the insight of a philosopher, philoso-pher, the inspiration of a poet, and the heart of a woman. Though knowing the Irish character as few men knew it, and though desirous (as the biographer tells us) to write songr which should find a place among the peasantry of Ireland, he failed to do so. Griffin felt that a Burns was wanting in Ireland, and Bums' place he tried to fill, but did not succeed. His poetry, like his own sweet nature, was a shade too re fined. His "Shule, Shule, Shule Agra," was one of his best attempts in that direction di-rection and was written to a wild and tender air prevalent in Munster. The very first verse of that song gives us an idea of his powers as a poet. A young couple are going to be wed. They are of the peasant's lot in life.. The dawn of their bridal day is breaking in the east. The bridegroom addresses his betrothed: "My Mary of the curlinjr hair. The laughing teeth, and bashful air." Wrhat a picture! She is handsome, joyous, and, best of all, modest. That i is a picture finished and perfect in two lines. What a fine moral song he then goes on to weave for the guileless Irish peasant: "Our bridal morn is dawning fair, With blushes in the skies." Not an idea of the whole verse but one of beauty and innocence the curling curl-ing hair, the laughing teeth, the bashful bash-ful air, the bridal morn breaking In the east; the beautiful dawn with blushes in the skies. Surely that is poetry, and poetry worthy of Griffin. And yet, in the next verse, he seems almost to surpass that. The bridegroom bride-groom still continues: "Wake! linnet of the osier grove. Wake! trembling, stainless virgin dove, Wake! nestling of a parent's love. Let Moran see thine eyes." By everything that is gentle, endearing endear-ing and pure, he call3 her. What an idea of modesty, which, thank God, is to be met with in thousands and thousands thou-sands of homes throughout poor Ireland, Ire-land, that second line gives us! "Wake! trembling, stainless, -virgin dove." The man that believes that the poet's heart never throbs with the fervor of religion or believes that while he weaves his moral lay religion does not stand approvingly by, knows little, and very little, of the poet's inner life. If I wished to illustrate, have I not an instance at hand? Poor Gerald Griffin, turning from the ways of the world, leaving name, fame and ambition ambi-tion behind; for a while looking to the priestly state, as the one most calculated calcu-lated to bring honor to God and comfort com-fort and sympathy to human souls; then, 'thinking that ambition was in the thought, sacrificing all, except the idea of doing good, and dying in the humble, hum-ble, but holy, garb of a Christian brother. The song of Gerald Griffin's, which will come oftenest to the lips of most of us, is, perhaps, his "Old times! old times, the gay old times! When I w.ts young and free. -And heard the merry Kaster chimes Beneath the sally tre; My Sunday palm beside me placed, My cross within my hand. A heart at rest within my breast And sunshine on the land. Old times! Old times!' How truly he describes our fondness J for the past, and the pain we feel that we can never more be as we were then, in this verse: "If I could cry away mine eyes. My tears would, tlow in vain; If I cculd waste my heart in sighs. They'd never co-me again-Old again-Old times! Old times!" In his "Giela machree. sit down by me. We nor are joined and ne'er shall sever; This hearth'Si our own, our hearts are one. And peace is ours forever," he returns thanks to the same attempt, that of writing peasant songs. He has, however, succeeded better in one that is not so well known "The mi-ne-meala now is past. Oh. wirra sthrue! oh. wirra sthrue! And I must leave my home at last. Oh, wirra sthrue! oh, wirra sthrue!" The poor girl Is newly married; the mi-ne-meala (or honeymoon) is past, and she is going home with her husband. hus-band. A presentiment seems to take possession of her mind; she remembers what a happy, quiet life she had beneath be-neath her parents' roof. Still there is no thought of refusing to go, but her pleading adds to the beauty of her lonesome leave-taking, and the fear of impending cruelty increases the sad ness and the virtue of her resignation: resigna-tion: and yet in the midst of all, h. r faithful heart cannot forget. She win (3 up with a blending of love of pleading and of sacrifice to duty that is almo ( beyond refusal. "Ah love! ah love! lie kind to mo. For by rhis breaking heart yon Soe How dearly 1 'have purchased th- ; P . Oh, wirra sthrue! oh, wirra sthru" This song is introduced with gr.-nt pathos in his "Suil Dhuo, the Coin. r. the neglected wife sings as she px-ks her first-born babe to sleep. Gerald Griffin seldom attempted anything any-thing in an artistic light. Then was about the man a candor and simpliciry that made anything artistic look ,. affectation. Hence, in all his lyrics and songs there is nothing like art; simplicity, joined with the truest poetry. po-etry. If any of his songs might 1..-accounted 1..-accounted fashionable that is, departing depart-ing from the most rigid simplicity it might be his singularly chaste and classic lyric: "A place in thy memory, dearest. Is all that I claim. To pause and look back when thou h.ir. est The sound of my name. Another may woo thev nearer. Another may win an. I wear: I care not though he be dearer If I am remembered thtre." X. |