BETA

A Hebrew Dirge Over Sir Daniel Donnelly.

1.

Mourn Erin, sons of Erin, mourn,1
Give utterance to the inward throe,2
As wails of her first love forlorn,3
The virgin clad in robes of Wo.4

2.

Mourn for our Champion snatched away5
From the fair Curragh’s verdant ring ;6
Mourn for his first now wrapt in clay,7
No more the ponderous thump to fling.8

3.

Mourn for the daisy† flower that went,9
Ere half disclosed its boxing powers ;10
Lost, Mourn the green bud so rudely rent11
From Ireland’s pugilistic bowers.12

* Author of Buonaparte, a poem ; we fear not extant. Mr H. has made Mr Cole-
ridge’s translation of Hurqitz’s dirge the basis of his.
† The daisy was the flower of Sir Daniel, just as the violet was that of Buonaparte.  Af-
ter his signal defeat of Oliver, he went home singing, “Down among the Daisies.”

4.

Mourn for the universal wo,13
With solemn dirge and faultering tongue,14
For Ireland’s champion is laid low,15
So stout, so hearty, and so strong.16
Of Mr Hincks’ translation we shall
only give in addition the 9th, 11th,
and 12th verses.

9.

Mourn for old Ireland’s hopes decayed,17
Her bruisers weep in mournful strain,18
Their fair example prostrate laid,19
By seven and forty tumblers slain.20

*****

11.

Long as the Commons-hall is trod21
Will I the yearly dirge renew22
Mourn for the nursling of the sod,*23
Our darling hurried from our view.24

12.

The proud shall pass forgot ; the chill,25
Damp, trickling vault their only mourner,26
Not so our daisy ; no, that still27
Clings to the breast which first had worn her.28

*****


* The sod, [...] , is Ireland.