innovation, and the chief corruptions of which we have to complain, arise from the unskilful performance of our own itinerant musicians, from whom, too frequently, the airs are noted down, encumbered by their tasteless decorations, and responsible for al. their ignorant anomalies. Though it be sometimes impossible to trace the original strain, yet, in most of them," auri per ramos aura refulget," the pure gold of the melody shines through the ungraceful foliage which surrounds it; and the most delicate and difficult duty of a compiler is to endeavour, as much as possible, by retrenching these inelegant superfluities, and collating the various methods of playing or singing each air, to restore the regularity of its form, and the chaste simplicity of its character. I must again observe, that, in doubting the antiquity of our music, my scepticism extends but to those polished specimens of the art, which it is difficult to conceive anterior to the dawn of modern improvement; and that I would by no means invalidate the claims of Ireland, to as early a rank in the annals of min strelsy, as the most zealous antiquary may be inclined to allow her. In addition, indeed, to the power which music must always have possessed over the minds of a people so ardent and susceptible, the stimulus of persecution was not wanting to quicken our taste into enthusiasm; the charms of song were ennobled with the glories of martyrdom, and the acts against minstrels in the reigns of Henry VIII. and Elizabeth were as successful, I doubt not, in making my countrymen musicians, as the penal laws have been in keeping them Catholics.

With respect to the verses which I have written for these Melo dies, as they are intended rather to be sung than read, I can answer for their sound with somewhat more confidence than their sense; yet, it would be affectation to deny that I have given much attention to the task, and that it is not through want of zeal or industry, if I unfortunately disgrace the sweet airs of my country; by poetry altogether unworthy of their taste, their energy, their tenderness.

and

Though the humble nature of my contributions to this work may exempt them from the rigours of literary criticisms, it was not to be expected that those touches of political feeling, those tones of national complaint, in which the poetry sometimes sympathizes with the music, would be suffered to pass without censure or alarm. It has been accordingly said, that the ten. dency of this publication is mischievous, and that I have chosen these airs but as a vehicle of dangerous politics-as fair and pre

* Among other false refinements of the art, our music (with the excep tion, perhaps, of the air called "Mamma, Mamma," and one or two more of the same ludicrous description) has avoided that puerile mimicry of natural noises, motions, &c., which disgraces so often the works of even the great Handel himself. D'Alembert ought to have had better taste than to become the patron of this imitative affectation (Discours Préliminaire de l'Encyclopédie). The reader may find some good remarks on the subject in Avison upon Musical Expression; a work, which, though under the name of Avison, was written, it is said, by Dr Brown.

+ Virgil, Eneid, lib. 6. v. 204

See Letters, under the signatures of "Timæus," &c., in the Morni Post, Pilot, and other papers.

feeling and passion, yet, often, when a favourite strain has been dismissed, as having lost its charm of novelty for the ear, it returns in a harmonized shape, with new claims upon our interest and attention; and to those who study the delicate artifices of composition, the construction of the inner parts of these pieces must afford, I think, considerable satisfaction. Every voice has an air to itself, a flowing succession of notes, which might be heard with pleasure independent of the rest, so artfully has the harmonist (if I may thus express it) gavelled the melody, distributing an equal portion of its sweetness to every part.

T. M.

GO WHERE GLORY WAITS THEE.

Go where glory waits thee,
But while fame elates thee,
Oh! still remember me.
When the praise thou meetest
To thine ear is sweetest,

Oh! then remember me.
Other arms may press thee,
Dearer friends caress thee,
All the joys that bless thee,
Sweeter far may be;
But when friends are nearest,
And when joys are dearest,

Oh! then remember me.
When, at eve, thou rovest
By the star thou lovest,

Oh! then remember me.
Think, when home returning,
Bright we've seen it burning.

Oh! thus remember me.

Oft as summer closes,
When thine eye reposes
On its ling'ring roses,
Once so lov'd by thee,

Think of her who wove them.

Her, who made thee love them,

Oh! then remember me.

When, around thee dying,
Autumn leaves are lying,

Oh! then remember me.
And, at night, when gazing

On the gay hearth blazing,
Oh! still remember me.
Then should music, stealing
All the soul of feeling,
To thy heart appealing,
Draw one tear from thee
Then let memory bring thee
Strains I us'd to sing thee,-
Oh! then remember me.

WAR SONG.

REMEMBER THE GLORIES OF BRIEN THE BRAVE.*

REMEMBER the glories of Brien the brave,
Tho' the days of the hero are o'er;

Tho' lost to Mononiat and cold in the grave,
He returns to Kinkorat no more!

That star of the field, which so often has pour'd
Its beam on the battle is set;

But enough of its glory remains on each sword,
To light us to victory yet!

Mononia! when Nature embellish'd the tint

Of thy fields, and thy mountains so fair,
Did she ever intend that a tryant should print
The footstep of slavery there?

No, Freedom! whose smile we shall never resign,
Go, tell our invaders, the Danes,

That 'tis sweeter to bleed for an age at thy shrine,
Than to sleep but a moment in chains!

Forget not our wounded companions, who stood$
In the day of distress by our side;

* Brien Borombe, the great monarch of Ireland, who was killed at the battle of Clontarf, in the beginning of the eleventh century, after having defeated the Danes in twenty-five engagements.

+ Munster.

The palace of Brien.

§ This alludes to an interesting circumstance related of the Dalgais, the favourite troops of Brien, when they were interrupted in their return from the battle of Clontarf, by Fitzpatrick, Prince of Ossory. The wounded men entreated that they might be allowed to fight with the rest:-"Let stakes (they said) be stuck in the ground, and suffer each of us, tied to and supported by one of these stakes, to be placed in his rank by the side of a sound man." "Between seven and eight hundred wounded men-(adds O'Halloran)-pale, emaciated, and supported in this manner, appeared mixed with the foremost of the troops-never was such another sight exhibited."-History of Ireland, book xii. chap. i