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BY P. O'KELLY, ESQ.
A Prefatory Dedication.
WHEN such a splendid Galaxy of poetiçal genius adorns our Hemisphere, when a Byron, a Scott, a MOORE, a MORGAN, a SHEILL, &c. have gathered
the most flourishing Laurels in the field of APOLLO, · it may be considered presumptuous in me to aspire to
be enrolled in the List of Fame; but however, hum-, ble the following manipulations may be, I would be wanting to myself, if I did not once more appear before the public, as a candidate for a Pindaric Sprig; the more especially when even MAJESTY deigned to shed a ray of lustre upon my efforts---but, methinks, I hear the snarling Critic say, “O’KELLY boasts of the royal countenance beaming upon his obscurity, if so why not return the favor by a Dedication to MAJESTY”? I will stifle in its utterence such theonine malice, by HORACE's apology to AUGUSTUS,
" Cum tot sustineas & tanta negotia solus,
“ Si nostro sermone morer tua tempora, Cæsir". Yet not alone to Royalty am I indebted, whilst some of the first Names in the Land grace my List, to whom I Dedicate the following pages, as a small acknowledgment of the gratitude which I owe them, and which shall never be effaced from the breast of him who has the honor of subscribing himself
• Their Devoted,
THE AUTHOR. Cork, June 24, 1824.
P. O'KELLY, ESQ. (Author of Killarney, Giant's Causeway, &c. &c. &c.)
All-hail OʻKelly! Nature's Bard divine, Thou favour'd Minstrel of the sacred Nine ; Their choicest gifts to thee the Sisters bring, Fresh from the waters of Castalia’s Spring : Round thy fair brow the laurel wreath they twin'd, And still their holy fire illumes thy mind.If CAMPBELL's chasteness, and if Byron's fire, Or the wild ringing of the Northern Lyre; If Moore th’Enchanter's dazzling light of song, Can bear their names on Times rough tide along; Lift thy bold head to Heav'n and dare to hope Thou! too shalt live in thy KALEIDOSCOPE! For all their varied Beauties are combin’d, In the bright prism of thy matchless mind: Which erst in song hast giv’n “ Killarney” fame, Immortal as thy song, great Bard! shalt be thy name.
When Tara's splendor had o'erspread the world, And Scania’s bordes had wild confusion hurd On Europe else ; the Bards in Druid state Wailid on their Harps old Erin's future fute ; Daire, the Druid chief, in Tara's halt, Shook bis Divining Urn at 'Brian's call; ... Brian th' undaunted! who, on Clontarf's plains, With blood-stain'd Sabre smote the haughty Danės ; The mystic Priest thus pray'd; the crowd drew near, In silent - rev’rence of their hóary Seer: "300 " “ Reveal, Dread Baal, Heav'ns chief; creation'God, “Who rulist the world with thy omnific nod"..." "The future doom of this thy fav'rite Isle; “Is peace her lot, or ever-during toil!' .231 With instant iuspiration heav'd his Breast, l:...! Whilst thus he sang th’ Eternal's high Behest." “Great Baal shall run his twice three-hundredth race, "Ere Erin’s woes from Albion's wrongs shall cease :