LIFE IN IRELAND 83 



Scandal by Rumour led is often troubling 

 The minds and morals of the Cits of Dublin, 

 Though clouds and darkness dim the gazers' eyes, 

 On eagle's wings immortal Scandal flies. 

 And over Ireland's vales of nature's green, 

 Scatters pollution, blighting every scene, 

 Nips the fair flower just opening to the view. 

 And bends the Shamrock with its baneful dew. 

 Poisons domestic peace, and lights her brand 

 To mislead thousands thro' a blundering land. 

 Stops the state-wheels with foul Corruption's clog, 

 Sweeps all before it like a — moving bog. ^ 



No matter — Scandal now has gone to rest, 

 And truth, embellished, is no more a jest. 

 The King advances, now ye Irish dames 

 Near burnt to cinders, light your amorous flames, 

 Brush your old poplins, darn your worsted lace. 

 And, if you can, put on a smiling face. 

 Pour forth, ye convents, novices in train, ^ 

 To hail the wanderer from the Irish main ; 

 Voluptuous love, religion blend together, 

 And trip to Howth as light as any feather ; 

 Here, haste from Connaught every mother's son, 

 And daughter, too, ye Griffins hither run ; 



1 Sweeps all before it like a moving bog. — The very bogs are moving 

 towards Dublin to congratulate the Lord of the soil. We imagine 

 that as he has just got rid of a foul green bag, which has kept him 

 and his friends at dirty work so long and so fruitlessly, he will not 

 readily soil his fingers or run the risk of being bogged again, even 

 to settle among the Irish. 



2 Pour forth, ye convents, novices in train. — There are convents in 

 Ireland at which young ladies are educated ; I never heard of any 

 taking the veil. There are also convents where ladies are trained in 

 the way they should not go ; one Mrs. Sarah Maclean, a celebrated 

 Lady Abbess, has had the bad luck to die before she met with a royal 

 patron. 



