They are resounding still beneath eastern suns and amidst Canadian snows-in the forests of the west and at the far Antipodes where young empires begin their conquering progress. The same sweet strains coupled with the same old music, but clothed in the dialects of other lands, have been heard throughout Christendom, and beyond it-have been sung by the Frenchman and the Russian, the Persian and the Pole (cheers). And thus have the name, and the history, and the genius of our country, been made familiar to distant nations, and Ireland has been exalted in claiming as her own one of the greatest lyrists of the world (cheers). Fitly, therefore, even without reference to his achievments in other fields of intellectual action (for, in this place, and on this occasion, I choose to regard him as the poet of Ireland) do we honour him who has so honoured us. And we can so honour him even though weaknesses in his bright career have been exposed rudely and blazoned far, for he had rare virtues too (cheers). His love of Ireland ished only with his life, and often found bold utterance, according to his conception of the truth, at the risk and with the consequence of evil to himself (cheers). He was faithful to all the sacred obligations and all the dear charities of domestic life. He was the idol of his household. He clung to his humble parents with as reverential an affection in his day of greatness as when he prayed at his mother's knee (cheers). He kept himself poor that his family might have comfort. Temptations beset him on his course and tried him sorely; but he was true and brave, as he was gentle, and of a manly spirit which never brooked dishonour or

R

per

abased itself for gain (loud cheers).

All these

things are remembered on this day by Ireland, and she has not denied to him the prayer of his own most beautiful appeal-she does not "blame the bard" who has done her such noble service (cheers). He has kept his promise and fulfilled his prophecy -he has made her name enduring in songs that are immortal-the stranger has heard her lament o'er his plains the sigh of her harp has been sent across the deep, and she is grateful for his labours as she is proud of his fame (loud cheers). Therefore it is, that we stand here to-day-men of every party and creed and condition in the land -forgetting the small strifes which fret us, and the dissensions that hold us, unhappily, asunder, to strive with generous emulation in guarding his memory as a glory to us all (cheers). And Ireland is well represented here to-day by her old historic names, her aristocracy, and her middle-classes, and the mass of her community. A Charlemont, worthy of his sire, is supported by a Geraldine of that great race, "Hibernicis ipsis Hiberniores," whose love of country is their old inheritance (cheers). The head of the Bar of Ireland unites with her Surgeon-General-Moore's early and faithful friend to speak for her learned professions. Merchants of the highest influence and position offer their tribute to the son of a Dublin trader, who, in his brightest noon of fame, and his highest pride of place, was never ashamed of the class from which he sprang (cheers). The true hearts of our kindly people ring forth their plaudits for the poet whose verses are to them dear and familiar as household words; and to consummate the occasion,

the representative of Majesty graces it with his presence, and by him Moore is not less appreciated because he was an Irishman (cheers). In such an assembly, my Lord Mayor, it is my high privilege to present to the Municipality of Dublin this statue-the creation of an Irish artist, who also has honoured the name he bears, and raised the reputation of his country (cheers). I present it with the hope and prayer that the feeling which pervades us here may outlive the passing hour, and be fruitful of great results-that it may originate other celebrations, such as this, of other men whose names we must not allow to perish-that it may make us, without pausing in our material and industrial progress, zealous to preserve all that is peculiar to us in literature and in art-to maintain the venerable monuments which connect us with distant ages and vanished races-to cherish those historic recollections which are, indeed, "the immortal life of a historical people"-and, by the earnest culture of a true national spirit, and a just national pride, to prove ourselves jealous of the honour, de voted to the interests, and faithful to the fortunes of our native land (loud and long continued cheering.)

FATHER BURKE ON MOORE.

The following beautiful passages on the manner in which Moore's "Melodies" reflect many interesting portions of the history of Ireland are from an eloquent lecture on "The National Music of

Ireland," delivered in America by the Rev. Father Burke :

"From the earliest date of Irish history-long before the light of Christianity beamed upon us— the bards were the greatest men of the land. The minstrels of Erin filled the land with the sound of their songs; and the very atmosphere of Ireland was impregnated with music. And when God gave to our native land one of His highest gifts—a true poetic child; second to none in brilliancy of imagination, in sympathy with nature, in tenderness of heart, and in wonderful copiousness of metaphor and of purest language; the poet found the road to fame and immortality opened to him in the grand old music of Erin. He had only to translate into our language of to-day the thoughts, and to wed them to the melody of the olden time, and whilst many a now honoured man shall be forgotten, Ireland's Tom Moore shall live for ever in his Irish melodies. He took into his gifted hands the dear harp of his country, the long silent harp of Erin, he swept its chords to the ancient lay, and gave all its notes to 'light, freedom, and song.'

"His doom was indeed cast with Ireland's harp and Ireland's music, and that doom is immortality.

"Addressing that loved harp, he exclaims

'Dear harp of my country, in darkness I found thee;
The cold chain of silence had hung o'er thee long;
When proudly, my own island harp, I unbound thee,
And gave all thy chords to light, freedom, and song.'

"Yes; Ireland's poet was a lover of his country, and was smitten with her glory; but finding that

glory eclipsed in the present, he went back to seek it in the past, and found every ancient tradition of Erin's ancient greatness still living in the hearts of the people and the voice of their national song. It was the music of Ireland, as it was the bards of Ireland, that kept the nation's life-blood warm, even when that life-blood seemed to be flowing from every vein. It was the sympathy of Ireland's music-the strong, tender sympathy of her bards-that sustained the national spirit, even when all around seemed hopeless. The first great passage in our history, as recorded by Ireland's poet, and by him attuned to a sweet ancient melody, describes the landing of the Milesians in Ireland. It was many centuries before Christianity beamed upon the land. An ancient Druidical prophecy

foretold that the sons of a certain chief called Gadelius were to inherit a beautiful island in the West. This became a dream of hope to him and to his sons; so, at last, they resolved to seek this island of Innisfail.' And, as the poet so beauti

fully expresses it

'They came from a land beyond the sea;
And now, o'er the Western main,
Set sail, in their good ships, gallantly,
From the sunny land of Spain.'

"For many years after their landing, the Milesians laboured to make Ireland a great country, and they succeeded. But the brightest light of all had not yet beamed upon us; the light of Christianity was not yet upon the land. Yet many indications foretold its coming; and, amongst others, there is one, commemorated in ancient tradition