TESTIMONY TO MR. O'KELLY'S

Being the original writer of his Poem upon

KILLARNEY.

Having had the pleasure of being introduced to MR. O'KELLY, during his northern tour, he shewed me, par hazard, a Poem on Killarney, claimed by one Michael M'Carthy, Teacher Kinsale; and by him. dedicated to the Rt. Hon. the late Lord Kinsale; but which, except a few lines in the beginning, (and God knows where they came from,) are to be found, line for line, and word for word, in Mr. O'Kelly's delightful POEM. The fellow in his dedication, talks with the utmost drollery, of his first becoming an Author, and of his " unwillingness to expose himself to his Lordship's derision and contempt," after having transcribed 840 lines for his own use, out of another person's poem !! such unblushing, such glaring effrontery is surely unparalelled. O'Kelly would not condescend to notice him, yet the fellow deserves a castigation. The following lines may induce some abler hand to inflict that punishment which he so justly deserves, who could not only steal a Poem and circulate it in his own Country, but (as I am informed,) go to England and dispose of the Copy-right of it there!! Mr. O'Kelly rode 20 miles to see the Gentleman, but the craven plagiarist would not make his appearance! Mr. O'Kelly's Killarney was published in 1791,-M'Carthy's robbery in 1816.

I am Sir, your's respectfully,
HUGH HARKIN.

THE PLAGIARIST,

OR THE DAW DEPLUMED.

"Hos ego versiculos feci, tulit alter honorem."

Hail Mickey Carty!!-Prince of Pirates hail!
Hail pedant, poetaster of Kinsale,

Hail poacher, pedagogue! and once more hail,
Prime, peerless, plagiarist of poor Kinsale!!
Proud, perking Daw, the peacock's painted tail,
Lent plumes to deck the chatt'rer of Kinsale!!!
Poor, purblind, putid, pseudo poet, tell,
Do Giants' garbs suit puny pigmies well?-
But cease this bitter badinage, my muse,

19.

Nor treat the reptile with deserved abuse!

Yet in true light the wretch should stand display'd, This wholesale dealer in the thieving trade!

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wo rid sel

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Who could, and not a twinge of conscience feel,
Eight hundred verses from another steal!-
Unhappy wight!-what tempted thee to stray,
So far beyoud the bounds of honor's way!
What vain illusion urged thee to assume,
Poor, worthless Daw! the tow ring
Daw!the tow ring Eagle's plume:
Thoughtst thou that death had closed O'Kelly's eyes,
That fate had snatched him to his native skies;
That you, like heated Vampire, fell and dread,
Might gorge the marrow of the mighty dead!
Oh! not for all that wealth or fame bestows,
Would I have felt the bitter, burning throes,
Which conscious shame, detected meanness bring,
To fools who claim what tuneful Poets sing.
Oh! what a state of mind thy face betray'd,
When robb'd O'Kelly, call'd upon his shade!!
The following fable represents the case,
Then, apropos we'll give the lines a place.-
"An Ass, the dullest of the long eared race,
(The lion absent at the glorious chase :)

Assum'd the kingly dignity aud bray'd,
His dulcet mandates wondering beasts obey'd.-
But soon returning from the sylvan plains,
The lordly beast his ancient right regains;

7

His hairy subjects hiss the ass away, MA
And wonder how they yielded to his sway."ano
Thus ever hooted, hated and forgot,id ei pe toat
Be thieves, and prince of thieves," M'Carty's lot!
Behold, where soaring to the eyrie's height, t
The greedy vulture wheels his stealthy flight,'
With bold, rapacious daring bears away,
The royal offspring as his lawless prey; embar
Fondles the brood,-adopts the kingly race, A7
Nor dreams of punishment, nor dreads disgrace!
Yet fir'd by instinct, eaglets find no rest, al
Within the confines of a vulture's nest:
But with the lofty bearing of their sire, '·
They spurn the sordid sty, with noble ire;
They soar aloft, like foll'wers of true fame,
And claim the royal nest from wheuce they came.
Too proud to stay, too strong to bear control,
All strength in limb, all energy in soul.
Thus pounced M'Carthy on O'Kelly's strains,
Thus fed the blockhead on the Poet's brains;
Thus for a time impostures pass'd for fame, plz
And gain'd the would-be-bard a splendid name! ⠀⠀
But soon the mist of error clears away,
And truth's bright sun reanimates the day':
McCarthy's borrow'd plumes are spread in vain, ✨
And wrong'd O'Kelly reassumes his reignit
King of the THRONG, whose wild enraptur'd'lays,
Swell loud and high in sweet Killarney's praise! 15%
Coleraine, 13th June, 1826.

'

TO P. O'KELLY, Esq.

Hail Bard! of the "Emerald Isle,"
All-bail to the son of the muses!
May pleasure or poetry's smile,
Ne'er brighten his day that refuses
To add a fresh spring to the wreath,
That gracefully circles thy brow,
Where taste swears for ever to breathe,
And talent approves of the vow.
I've dwelt with delight on the lays,
Which paint to the fanciful eye,
In colours so striking the rays

That gild, sweet Killarney!-thy sky.
With thee, have I. ranged through the grove,

And climbed lofty MANGERTON's steep;

Have mixed with the rowers and strove
For fame on the breast of the deep!
With breathless attention I followed,

The high-panting stag thro' the brake,
And my heart sunk, as wild echo hallowed
His last hope-his plunge in the lake!
I swam with the fear stricken beast,—

Saw the heavy tear roll from his eye,
Felt the throb of despair swell my breast,

As he mournfully heaved the deep sigh! O'er thy Causeway delighted I stray,

Fresh beauties burst forth on my view, Each scene brightens up in thy lays

And I count all its wonders anew!

Yet, I sigh, with regret, when I think,

That the Muse which could wing such a flight,

Should so shortly be tempted to sink

From her envied-her eminent height!

Adieu!-(yet I hardly forgive,

For a niggard to us thou hast been,)

The Muse bids O'Kelly to live

In the Causeway's astonishing scene!

But tho' lines from a masterly hand,

In every bold feature we find,

You might yet make the canvass expand,
By the magical force of thy mind.
Coleraine, 12th June, 1826.

HUGH HARKIN.

Hail pride of Alga! Bard of ERIN, hail!
Fame-faring Poet-scourge of Doneraile!
Hail thou, the Muses' highly-favored son,
The Poet, Scholar, Patriot met in one!
Hail thou, whose talents cast a gleam of light,
Which brightens Innis Alga's somb'rous night,
Whose genius brilliant spark from nature's fire,
Sweeps smooth and strong, across the trembling wire !
Hail, minstrel, hail! whose soft, whose dulcet strains,
Spread such delight o'er Erin's thousand plains!
Whose magic notes can make her sons forget,
The deep disgrace the wounds that gall them yet!
Whose sweet persuasive Muse can heal the smart
Of cruel persecution's poison'd dart!

Can teach them to forget, enwrapt in song, altern
The curs'd remembrance of their Country's wrong
And with the bearing bold, and eagle eye. Ther
Of freemen, gaze on freedom's dazzling sky!
Welcome from glowing Munster's classic plains!
Welcome to sober Ulster's simple swains!!
Welcome again!!-Northern hearts can feel,
The force of friendship, with a Poet's zeal, olid -T
Have heads, that can appreciate parts like thine. {{'C
Which can, and do admire, thy gifts divine!rent
And tho' that hate máy, here, not strike thy view,
Which stamps, thy Munster's crimes and virtues too ;
Yet, trust me you shall find that mental worth to
Is not a stranger to the cold Black North

• Ireland in the days of Antiquity, was known by

the honorary name of

Innis Alga, which signifies the noble Island, and also Hieron and InnisAlga,-the happy and the noble Island.