LIFE IN IRELAND 213 



from the parched lips of labouring poverty, to place in 

 the King's Store for my own private emolument. 



' Bad luck to the man, however exalted in rank and 

 command, who has not, cannot, in the execution of 

 severe duties, find some means of lightening the lash 

 that falls on the shoulders of misguided ignorance, or 

 superstitious error. I am but an exciseman, but I am 

 a man : I love my country — she is dearer to me than 

 life ; and I trust that the blossoms of her potatoe, and 

 the virtues of her natives, will never more be stained 

 by vices of foreign importatio7i' 



END OF THE EXCISEMAN'S STORY. 



Bravo^ my dear boy, said Brian Boru, your story 

 is amusing, and I am sure much embellished against 

 yourself; but the sentiments of an Irishman and a 

 loyal heart conclude your story. I feel an interest in 

 your affairs, and by the help of Blake will do you 

 some good — if God spares my life, and lets me out of 

 limbo. 



Tip us a song, my worthy — tip us another ditty. 



He that hath not sweet music in his soul, 

 Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils. 



Oh my soul — 

 Come not thou into his secrets. — Shakespeare. 



And if 'Music be the food of love, play on 'j Life is 

 short, either in Ireland or Nova Zembla; it is best to 

 pass it merrily, not in sighs and sentimental tears : 

 even the Prophet says — 



' If any of you be serious, let him pray. 

 If any of you be merry, let him sing Psalms.' 



