The Shamrock or, Hibernian Cresses. A Collection of Poems, Songs, Epigrams, &c. Latin as well as English, The Original Production of Ireland. To which are subjoined thoughts on the prevailing system of school education, respecting young ladies as well as gentlemen: with practical proposals for a reformation [by Samuel Whyte] |
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ODE: TO IERNE.
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 | The Shamrock |  |
ODE: TO IERNE.
Hail! fair Ierne, Parent of the Lyre!
Hail! Nurse of hallow'd Bards, and gentle Song!
Ere guilty War yet spread her Banners dire,
And frighted from thy Shore the tuneful Throng;
Hail! Nurse of hallow'd Bards, and gentle Song!
Ere guilty War yet spread her Banners dire,
And frighted from thy Shore the tuneful Throng;
350
Fair were the Streams that lav'd thy peaceful Glades;
Fair were the Shades that trembled o'er the Stream;
Sweet were the Lays that echoed through the Shades;
And Land of Saints was then Ierne's Name:
Fair were the Shades that trembled o'er the Stream;
Sweet were the Lays that echoed through the Shades;
And Land of Saints was then Ierne's Name:
But, War unsheath'd the Sword, and purple Gore
Stain'd the fair Silver of the limpid Wave;
Rude Hands the venerable Oaks uptore,
And doom'd the Bard to an untimely Grave.
Stain'd the fair Silver of the limpid Wave;
Rude Hands the venerable Oaks uptore,
And doom'd the Bard to an untimely Grave.
Lo! then, Ierne droop'd, a desart Land,
Nor sow'd despairing Hinds the doubtful Grain,
Lest others reap the Labours of their Hand,
And painful Sweat bedew their Brows in vain.
Nor sow'd despairing Hinds the doubtful Grain,
Lest others reap the Labours of their Hand,
And painful Sweat bedew their Brows in vain.
Nor, since that ruthless Time, hath Druid sage
To woodland Echo taught the mystic Song,
Or where old Liffey rolls his rapid Rage,
Or Shannon pours his lordly Tide along.
To woodland Echo taught the mystic Song,
Or where old Liffey rolls his rapid Rage,
Or Shannon pours his lordly Tide along.
But, now, beneath our young Augustus' Reign,
Reviving Arts once more adorn our Isle,
Fair Husbandry redeems the ravag'd Plain;
And golden Ceres learns again to smile:
Reviving Arts once more adorn our Isle,
Fair Husbandry redeems the ravag'd Plain;
And golden Ceres learns again to smile:
Now, too, the Muses' long neglected Bay,
A tender Plant! once more essays to rise,
Whose Seed, not lost entire, long latent lay,
And fear'd the Rigour of tempestuous Skies.
A tender Plant! once more essays to rise,
Whose Seed, not lost entire, long latent lay,
And fear'd the Rigour of tempestuous Skies.
Nor thou, Oh, gracious King! disdainful frown
On these first Efforts, and this humble Strain;
Reviving Arts thy fostering Favour own;
Let not the Muse be mark'd for thy Disdain.
On these first Efforts, and this humble Strain;
Reviving Arts thy fostering Favour own;
Let not the Muse be mark'd for thy Disdain.
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Oh! deign to smile! else, whither shall the Muse
Her trembling Hands in Supplication bend?
Where hope for Succour, if her George refuse?
Scorn'd by the Hero, who remains her Friend?
Her trembling Hands in Supplication bend?
Where hope for Succour, if her George refuse?
Scorn'd by the Hero, who remains her Friend?
Perhaps, some Youth, whose yet untutor'd Rhymes
Here dawn the Promise of immortal Song,
May blazon George's Deeds to future Times,
If but his Smiles entice the Muse along;
Here dawn the Promise of immortal Song,
May blazon George's Deeds to future Times,
If but his Smiles entice the Muse along;
May paint the Tyrant trembling at his Name,
Where'er his Banners wave, or Oceans roll;
Or sing his fairer Praise, his nobler Fame,
And hail the Monarch of his People's Soul.
Where'er his Banners wave, or Oceans roll;
Or sing his fairer Praise, his nobler Fame,
And hail the Monarch of his People's Soul.
But, thou, whose infant Muse, on callow Wing,
O'er-rashly dares these dazzling Heights to soar,
Thou, leave such Themes for loftier Bards to sing;
This Danger past, attempt such Flights no more:
O'er-rashly dares these dazzling Heights to soar,
Thou, leave such Themes for loftier Bards to sing;
This Danger past, attempt such Flights no more:
Content to wander through the peaceful Shade,
When Twilight cloaths the drowsy World in Grey,
(All, but where faintly o'er the western Glade,
Departing, glows the golden Rear of Day)
When Twilight cloaths the drowsy World in Grey,
(All, but where faintly o'er the western Glade,
Departing, glows the golden Rear of Day)
Content, at that sweet, solitary Hour,
Along the Margin of the winding Stream,
To woo the rural Muses' gentle Power,
And sing thine humble Loves, unknown to Fame:
Along the Margin of the winding Stream,
To woo the rural Muses' gentle Power,
And sing thine humble Loves, unknown to Fame:
Or, if, perhaps, thy loyal Ardor scorn
To sleep, nor dares the Hero's Praise display;
Charlotte thy softest Numbers shall adorn,
And royal Beauties grace the ambitious Lay.
To sleep, nor dares the Hero's Praise display;
Charlotte thy softest Numbers shall adorn,
And royal Beauties grace the ambitious Lay.
| The Shamrock | |