University of Virginia Library

A large proportion of the songs I have met with are love songs. Somehow or other, truly or untruly, the Irish have obtained a character for gallantry, and the peasantry beyond doubt do not belie the “soft impeachment.” Their modes of courtship, are sometimes amusing. The “malo me Galatea petit” of Virgil would still find a counterpart among them— except that the missile of love (which I am afraid is not so poetical as the apple of the pastoral, being neither more or less than a potato), comes first from the gentleman. He flings it with aim designedly erring at his sweetheart, and if she returns the fire a warmer advance concludes the preliminaries and establishes the suitor. Courtships, however, are sometimes carried on among them with a delicacy worthy of a more refined stage of society, and unchastity is very rare. This perhaps is in a great degree occasioned by their extremely early marriages, the advantage or disadvantage of which I give to be discussed by Mr. Malthus and his antagonists.

At their dances (of which they are very fond), whether a-field, or in ale-house, a piece of gallantry frequently occurs which is alluded to in the following song. A young man, smitten suddenly by the charms of a danseuse, belonging to a company to which he is a stranger, rises, and with his best bow offers her his glass and requests her to drink to him. After due refusal it is usually accepted, and is looked on as a

good omen of successful wooing. Goldsmith alludes to this custom of his country in the Deserted Village:—

The parties may be totally unacquainted, and perhaps never meet again, under which circumstances it would appear that this song was written.