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Hands we part, and hearts bereave,

Heave ho, heave, my hearties ! Still to us sweet souls will cleave, Heave ho, heave, my hearties !

Ebb, tide, or flow,
Lull, wind, or blow,
Out to sea
Cheerily
We will go,
With yeo heave ho!
Heave, my hearties.

With windlass creak and cable strain,

Heave ho, heave, my hearties ! Flies blue-Peter at the main,

Heave ho, heave, my hearties ! To bluer waves and a bluer sky,

Heave ho, heave, my hearties!
Points that messenger on high.
Heave bo, heave, my hearties !

Hurrah! we glide
With the teeming tidc,
Out to sea
Cheerily.
So sing as we go,
Yeo heave bo!
Sing, my hearties.

The graves of our fathers—our child-baunts we shun,

Swiftly and silently ;
Turning our face to the path of the sun,

Swiftly and silently.
Onward we speed with the stride of the blast,

Swiftly and silently,
Fleeing the doom of the terrible past,

Swiftly and silently.
Is it a Passover ?-Eat we our bread,

Swiftly and silently,
Armed, girded, shod, and with awe-covered head,
Signed with the sign that the angel shall drcad,
As onward he passeth to number the dead,
Swiftly and silently!

111.-LANDED! Harboured : farewell, friendly occan!

Town-pent, with disease and sin.
Riverwards : again in motion.

Landed. Now our toils begin.
On! on! at the wooden wall.
Hew! hew! till the great trees' fall,
Yield the way to the rich, rich soil :
Way of ease to the foot of toil.
But, ah! for the riches no strange land yields !
And heaven hung nearer our open fields.
This is the spot to our hand assigned;
(The seed before and the rain behind !)
Look! look-not backward now,
The land is clear, and we hold the plough.

Loving Father! we bless our bread;
But the heart is full when the grace is said.

11.- SWIFTLY AND SILENTLY. Swiftly and silently, swiftly and silently!

Sons of the home-stricken, home-loving Gael, Homeward we sail,

Swiftly and silently.

On to the Virgin West

Kindly and fair
Swiftly and silently, swiftly and silently ! -
In the still woods awaiting to bless the unblest :

Would we were there,
Swiftly and silently!

Sharpen the scythes. With sweeping bow
Cut! cut! we work too slow.
Bind! bind! the good sheaves grow
For the mouths we kiss. But, ah, not so,
We worked in the old fields long ago.
Here the breeze blows full, and fresti, and fair,
But there we could breathe its blessed air.

Loving Father, we bless our bread,
But the heart is full when the

grace

is said.

Swiftly and silently, ever we go,

Swiftly and silently; Full of strange loneliness, hopefulness, woc:

Swiftly and silently, swiftly and silently !

Tell us, oh! mariner, where the wind bloweth

Swiftly and silently ?
Tell us, oh! mariner, where the tide floweth

Swiftly and silently?
Swiftly and silently blowing, re-blowing;
Swiftly and silently ebbing and flowing.
Oh! shall we come back from whence we are going,

Swiftly and silently?

Tramp! tramp! on the iron way,
Where the soul smoothes paths for the foot of clay.
The sleepers, never more to rest,
Lay on the red earth's troubled breast,
Dig, deep! lay the trams secure.
Heap, high! make the broad bank sure.
Dig! 'tis the grave of our lingering wocs.
Heap! So the hope of our children grows
Day by day.--'Tis a golden way,
But ah! not the way that we used to pass,
To the gleesome school, and the holy Mass;
Where the daisy sprang on the dewy path,
By the grey grave-yard in the lonely rath."

Loving Father, we bless our bread,

But the heart is full when th. is said. * The daisy is not met with in N fruitless attempts, have been mail.

Leaving our labonrs, swiftly and silently;
Leaving dear neighbours, swiftly and silently;
Leaving our nearest and dearest behind us;
Drying the bitter, hot tears, that would blind us;

Swiftly and silently, swiftly and silently !

into a laneway, and which door was then lying wide Some weeks afterwards, the younger of the two men open. Two of the party of thief-catchers were dis- in question was arrested at a lodging-house in Liverpatched in pursuit by the chief in command, who re- pool, where he was lying in a state of convalescence from quested me to accompany him to the watch-house, for fever. He was brought to Ireland, tried at the ensuing the purpose of giving an explanation in reference to the assizes for the county, convicted, and transported for very suspicious position in which I was discovered. It

life. He had been at one time employed as porter in is, perhaps, more straightforward to admit at once that the bank, but was dismissed for repeated irregularities. I was taken into custody; but on arriving at the watch- His brother and accomplice succeeded in “ baffling jushouse, the min on duty, who knew me well, as a stu- tice" completely, having escaped to America. Both men dent connected wi h “ Old Peter Street," (the school belonged to the county in which the robbery was commitwhich is now appropriately named “the Ledwich,” in ted; and the elder, who had commenced life as a cattlecommemoration of the late Thomas Ledwich, F.R.C.S.I., dealer, very soon acquired a reputation for laxity of conMR.I.A., one of the ablest professors ever attached to duct, which brought him into disrepute even with the it,) discharged me on my own bail, aster stating my case not over sensitive class to which he belonged. He was to hin. From him I learned that my mysterious friends frequently suspected as the perpetrator of robberies from of Newmarket were the suspected perpetrators of a the person of men in his own calling, when intoxication most daring burglary and robbery, as well as attempted rendered them an easy subject for his experiments; but murder, committed the previous morning, at a very early owing to the tact and audacity which he so eminently hour, on the branch bank at The robbers, it possessed, he had always contrived to escape the legitiappeared, had effected an entrance through the back mate consequences of his rascality. part of the house, by some of the usual burglarious ap- I cannot explain why he took such an apparently pliances, into the cash office, where the principal safe round-about course to procure surgical assistance for bis was broken open, and a sum of nearly £500, in gold, brother, no more than I can elucidate the seeming mysab tracted and carried off successfully. The manager of tery of their joint escape from the two-pair back room the establishment was awakened by the noise resulting on that remarkable night. It is therefore useless to from some of these operations, and at once proceeded, question me on these points. The woman who had with pistols and light in hand, down stairs. It is ne- acted as his accomplice in my deception was taken into cessary to state that he was an unmarried man, and the custody and examined before a magistrate; but she only person living in the house with him was an old fe

represented herself as an occasional attendant only on male servant, who slept in the top back room, the build- the parties whom she believed (as she said, the rogue) ing being of three stories. As he entered the cash- to be “honest, well-conducted gentlemen," and there office, the men were preparing to decamp with their booty, being no evidence to inculpate her in any way, she was when he discharged one of bis pistols, and was about discharged. taking aim with the second, upon which he was felled to the ground by a stunning blow. He knew no:hing more, and some hours afterwards, was found senseless in a pool of his own blood, by the old servant, as she

A LOG. was about to commence her household duties. She gave the aları immediately; and, surgical aid being called

1.--Heave Ho! in, it was found that Mr. -, althongh not fatally injured, had received several desperate and ghastly wounds,

Heave ho, brothers, sing (evidently inflicted with some blunt instrument) in the

Heave ho, heave, my hearties! head, which it was impossible for him to have survived

Set our sea-bird on the wing, had they not been treated with the utmost caution and

Heave ho, heave, my hearties ! skill. The bank was situated in a comparatively iso

With cable straiu and windlass creak, lated position in the town of - which accounted for

Heave ho, heave, my hearties ! the fact of the pistol-shot not having attracted any no

Swing the bower stay-a-prak. tice ia the neigi bourhood (which it did not); while, at

Heave ho, heave, my hearties ! the same time, it afforded the robbers greater facilities

Lull, wind, or blow, in other respects.

Ebb, tide, or flow,

Out to sea When intelligence of the affair reached Dublin, sus

Cheerily picion at once fell upon the two gentlemen of the lonely house, the scene of my night's adventure. They had

With been a long time under police surveillance—in those

heave ho!

yeo days not, by any means, so acute or extensive in its

Heave, my hearties. ramifications as the detective system of the present time) -as “doubtful characters," and it was known that they

Heave ho, sing and heave, had been out of town for some days. The result of the

Heave ho, heave, my hearties ! attemp! to effect their capture, by the Dublin authorities,

Home and country we must leave, I have already detailed.

Heave ho, heave, my hearties !

We will go,

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The graves of our fathers-our child-haunts we shun,

Swiftly and silently;
Turning our face to the path of the sun,

Swiftly and silently.
Onward we speed with the stride of the blast,

Swiftly and silently,
Fleeing the doom of the terrible past,

Swiftly and silently.
Is it a Passover ?—Eat we our bread,

Swiftly and silently,
Armed, girded, shod, and with awc-covered head,
Signed with the sign that the angel shall dread,
As onward he passeth to number the dead,
Swiftly and silently!

111.-LANDED!
Harboured: farewell, friendly occan!

Town-pent, with disease and sin.
Riverwards : again in motion.

Landed. Now our toils begin.
On! on! at the wooden wall.
Hew! hew! till the great trees' fall,
Yield the way to the rich, rich soil:
Way of ease to the foot of toil.
But, ah! for the riches no strange land yields !
And heaven hung nearer our open fields.
This is the spot to our hand assigned;
(The seed before and the rain behind !)
Look! look—not backward now,
The land is clear, and we hold the plough.

Loving Father! we bless our bread;

But the heart is full when the grace is said.
Sharpen the scythes. With sweeping bow
Cut! cnt! we work too slow.
Bind! bind! the good sheaves grow
For the mouths we kiss. But, ah, not so,
We worked in the old fields long ago.
Here the breeze blows full, and frest), and fair,
But there we could breathe its blessed air.

Loving Father, we bless our bread,

But the heart is full when the grace is said.
Tramp ! tramp! on the iron way,
Where the soul smoothes paths for the foot of clay,
The sleepers, never more to rest,
Lay on the red earth's troubled breast.
Dig, deep! lay the trams secure.
Heap, high! make the broad bauk sure.
Dig! 'tis the grave of our lingering woes.
Heap! So the hope of our children grows
Day by day.—'Tis a golden way,
But ah! not the way that we used to pass,
To the gleesome school, and the holy Mass ;
Where the daisy sprang on the dewy path,
By the grey grave-yard in the lonely rath.*

Loving Father, we bless our bread,

But the heart is full when the grace is said. * The daisy is not met with in North America. Several fruitless attempts have been made to naturalize it there.

On to the Virgin West

Kindly and fairSwiftly and silently, swiftly and silently ! In the still woods awaiting to bless the unblest :

Would we were there,

Swiftly and silently!
Swiftly and silently, ever we go,

Swiftly and silently;
Full of strange loneliness, hopefulness, woc:

Swiftly and silently, swiftly and silently !

Tell os, oh! mariner, where the wind bloweth

Swiftly and silently ?
Tell us, oh! mariper, where the tide floweth

Swiftly and silently ?
Swiftly and silently blowing, re-blowing;
Swiftly and silently ebbing and flowing.
Oh! shall we come back from whence we are going,

Swiftly and silently?

Leaving our labonrs, swiftly and silently;
Leaving dear neighbours, swiftly and silently;
Leaving our nearest and dearest behind us;
Drying the bitter, hot tears, that would blind us;

Swiftly and silently, swiftly and silently !

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And sow the seed. In good time to be
For the blessed well a sheltering tree.
Unto its fruited bouglis shall flock,
Birds that chatter, that hymn, that mock :
Spirits that over the world-waste fly,
With the voice of Hope and the open cye;
Bearers, aye, of the passing Spring,
To the winter-chained and the weak of wing.

Bid the famished Red Vau's race,
Hither, from many a lurking place!
Hlither, the newness of life to gain,
Mid the soughing sward and rippling grain;
llere, where love their gaze shall greet,
In the rolling maize and wavy wheat ;
Flere, to gather, day by day,
Strength for the journey far away.

Away! away! on our weary way,
Fast to follow the God of Day.
We must not wait while the fair tree grows ;
Till “the wilderness blossometh like the rose;"
Till in corn and in wine hath our work increase,
Till our brother man be possessed of peace :
No, no.

But still as we go,
Let us scatter sweet salt for the buffalo,
In the seams of the rock, on the boulder-strewn path,
For the herd, the wild lock, and the scapegoats of wrath!
Down! down! to the golden strand,
O'er the rocky heights, to the dewy land,
Down by the shore of the sea of Peace;
There shall our troubles and toilings cease.
Vain, vain hope. Arm! arm ! for life!
This is the deadliest field of strife.

In April, 1667, Mr. Jonathan Swift, Steward to the Society of King's Inns, Dublin, died, and on November 30th following, his wife Abigail, then in very destitute circumstances, was delivered of a son, at No. 7 Hoey's Court, in the vicinity of Werburgh Street. His nurse took a singular and romantic fancy to the child: she carried him off clandestinely to England, and for some years efforts were vainly made to trace the spot of his concealment. Godwin and William Swift, the uncles of little Jonathan, shewed him some kindness, and mainly contributed to his maintenance and education. Scott records an anecdote, on the authority of Theophilus Swift, which represents Dr. Whittingham accosting the great man, in after life, with: “Pray, Mr. Dean, was it not your uncle Godwin who educated you?” Whereupon Swift is said to have replied: "Yes, he gave me the education of a dog." There is evidence, however, to shew that Godwin Swift placed his nephew at the age of six, in the celebrated school of Kilkenny, in which Bishop Berkeley also received his education. Here he remained until his fourteenth year, when he entered Trinity College, Dublin, as a pensioner. But Swift's academic course was much more distinguished for boisterous, and often wanton fun, than for that precocity of talent and steady application which, about the same period, marked the collegiate studies of William, afterwards Archbishop King. Swift entertained and avowed a strong distaste to the fashionable studies of that day, and “some," writes Scott, “were very ill suited to his genius. Logic, then deemed a principal object of learning, was in vain presented to his notice; neither did he pay regular attention to other studies more congenial to his disposition.” Among the habits which Swift contracted when in the University, was that ten. dency to parsimony which clung to him, as a specialty, throughout the entire of his subsequent life. He had tasted the bitters of indigence, and he seemed in per

Close! close! rank and file,
Soldiers of Christ, from the holy izle.

petual dread, even in his hours of prosperity, of a recurrence of this terrible visitation. Swift at last succeeded in obtaining a bachelor's degree; from which one might infer that he was determined, even at the eleventh hour, to make up for long neglect by earnest application. But Dr. Barrett, who very carefully consulted the College books, has discovered, that even after graduating, Swift was admonished for notorious neglect of duties, and that he was almost continually under some punishment. The same authentic tell-tale records that Swift, and a youth name Sergeant, were the ringleaders of a clique of dissolute and turbulent collegians, and that the University not only suspended them from their degrees, but sentenced the culprits to ask pardon on their knees of Dr. Owen Lloyd, the Junior Dean. Then it was that the haughty spirit of Swift received shock from which it never afterwards recovered; and an undying enmity towards the University, but especially towards Dr. Lloyd, began to form in his heart from that moment. Swift, notwithstanding his erratic course, received pardon, and was reinstated in his degree; and the statement of Mr. Richardson, that he was expelled from the University, is therefore incorrect. This pardon, however, failed to allay Swift's irritation, of which the vindictive vehemence with which he afterwards assailed Dr. Lloyd conclusively shews. But his pride was woanded in other ways; and we learn from Mr. Wills, that in 1688, “after meeting with a galling humiliation in the University, Swift resolved on a removal to England. He had no prospect of advancement where he was, and both the University and the country, which had been to bim the scene of every misery and degradation, were lateful in his eyes.” Swift was connected, through his mother, with Sir William Temple. He applied to that great statesman for patronage and protection, and was at length engaged by him as amanuensis, at £20 a year. Stang by the convulsive pang of a long and deeply-seated resentment, Swift flung himself into his new vocation with—to quote the words of one of his biographers—"a fiery sense of wounded selfimportance, and a fiercely stung spirit of self-assertion.” In forcing his way out of obscurity and disgrace, he manfully applied all the energies of his nature. He also overcame the besetting errors of his youth, and manifested henceforth considerable craft and steadiness. Temple's penetrative sagacity soon, but not at once, discovered the master-mind of Swift. He fre. quently conversed on interesting topics with the amanaensis, and Swift received from conversation so exalted and sparkling a strong impulse to self-improvement. He now devoted eight hours a day to study, and we are told that this severity of application proved eminently injurious to his health. After battling for two years with a disease mainly induced by mental labour, Swift visited Ireland, in the hope of deriving some benefit from change of scene and climate. “Ile drank physic from the fields, and draughts of vital air,” as his cotemporary Dryden has it; but the disease refused to disappear completely, and he returned to Moor Park, where Sir W. Temple received him with marks of strong regard and

affection. He rapidly grew in the favour and confidence of his influential patron. William III., on more than one occasion, visited Temple, for the purpose of conferring with him privately on public affairs; and it is recorded that Swift was allowed to be present at these confidential interviews. Gout would sometimes so completely disable Sir William, that Swift was deputed to entertain the royal guest. The monarch was pleased with Swift's conversation, familiarly showed him how to cut and eat asparagus in the Dutch fashion, and offered him a troop of horse. From a letter dated November 29, 1692, it may be inferred that King William promised him a prebend also; but this was one of the promises which, like pie crusts, are made to be broken. During the same year Swift went to Oxford, and applied for a master's degree, which he obtained. Swift wrote much at this period, and in a conversation with Mr. Rendal, he declared that “ he had written, burned, and written again, upon all manner of subjects, more than perhaps any man in England.” In showing some of his verses to Dryden, the latter exclaimed pithily," Cousin Swift, you will never be a poet !” D’Israeli, noticing this circumstance, observes, “ The enraged wit never forgave it. He has indulged the utmost licentiousness of personal rancour ; he places Dryden by the side of the lowest of poets."

Swift's vindictive tenacity of feeling, whenever he conceived his pride wantonly wounded, was very striking, and formed through life a prominent idiosyncracy in his character.

His hastiness of temper also frequently shewed itself, and in 1693, we find him quarrelling with Temple, and leaving Moor Park for Ireland. Here he applied to several bishops for ordination, but he received for reply, that without a recommendation from Sir W. Temple, orders could not be obtained. For five months Swift sought to digest the gall of this humiliating contre-temps and dilemma. His wounded pride revolted at the idea of succumbing to Temple; but the case was one of peculiar urgency, and-poverty, but not his will consenting—he at last addressed a communication to Sir William, which was found long after, endorsed—“Swift's penitential letter.” The baronet was appeased, and in October, 1694, Swift obtained deacon's orders on his recommendation. Immediately after he was appointed to the living of Kilroot, in the diocese of Connor; but Swift found the retreat insipid, and he readily embraced the invitation of Sir William to return to Moor Park. Here he first met Esther Johnson, the beautiful Stella, with whom much of Swift's after life is episodically and somewhat mysteriously interwoven. He studied intensely on his return, but was now more careful of his health, and adopted the practice of daily exercise, by running half a mile up and down a hill every two hours. In 1699, his patron Sir William Temple died, leaving Swift all his mannscripts, together with £100, and a leasehold interest to Stella. Swift published the literary remains, and dedicated the work to King William, whom he solicited privately, at the same time, to give him a prebend of Canterbury, or Westminster. The request was treated with silent contempt. We are told that Sir William Temple had

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