There is a cave where No daylight enters, But cats and badgers Are for ever bred; And mossed by nature Makes it completer Than a coach-and-six, Or a downy-bed. 'Tis there the lake is Well stored with fishes, And comely eels in The verdant mud; Besides the leeches, And groves of beeches, Standing in order To guard the flood.
Il est aans ces vallons Une sombre caverne, Où jamais nous n'allons Qu'armés d'une lanterna La mousse en cette grotte Tapissant chaque motte Vous offre des sofas; Et là se trouve unie La douce symphonie Des hiboux et des chats. Tout près on voit un lac, Où les poissons affluent, Avec assez de sangsues Pour en remplir un sac; Et sur ces bords champêtres On a planté des hétres.
There gravel walks are For recreation,
And meditation In sweet solitude. "Tis there the lover
May hear the dove, or The gentle plover, In the afternoon; And if a lady Would be so engaging As for to walk in
Those shady groves, 'Tis there the courtier Might soon transport her Into some fort, or The "sweet rock-close."
Ici l'homme atrabilaire Un sentier peut choisir Pour y suivir à loisir Son rêve solitaire, Quand une nymphe cruelle L'a mis au désespoir, Sans qu'il puisse émouvoir L'inexorable belle. Quel doux repos je goûte, Assis sur ce gazon! Du rossignol j'écoute Le tendre diapason. Ah! dans cet antre noir Puisse ma Léonore, Celle que mon cœur adors, Venir furtive au soir!
Και αντρον εστ' εκει δε Ογ ̓ ἡμερ' ουποτ' είδε, Μελεις δε και γαλαι εν Αυτῳ τρεφονται αιεν Έντελεστερον φύον τε Αμφις ποιει βρυον γε Έξιππου η διφροιο Η κοιτης ιουλοιο
Ιχθυέων τε μεστη Λιμνη εκεί παρεστι, Κ' εγχελεες φυουσι Εν ιλυι θαλουση Βδέλλαι τε εισιν· αλλα Φηγων τε αλση καλ ̓ ἁ Στιχεσσ' εκει τετακται, Αἱς ροη πεφυλακται.
Hic tenebrosa caverna
Est, gattorumque taberna, Talpâ habitata pigro, Non sine fele nigro; Muscus iners olli Stravit loca tegmine molli Lecticæ, ut plumis Mollior esset humus : Inque lacu anguilla
Luteo nant gurgite mille; Quo nat, amica luti, Hostis hirudo cuti : Grande decus pagi, Fluvii stant margine fagi; Quodque tegunt ramo Labile flumen amo!
Λιθινας γ' εχει πορείας Ένεκα περιπατείας, Εννοιαν τε θειαν Κατ' ερημιαν γλυκειαν Εξεστι και εραστή Μεθ ̓ ἑσπεραν αλαστη Ακουειν η τρηρων η Σε, μικρε λιγυφωνε ! Ει τις τε και δεσποινα Εκει καλη μενοινα Αλᾶσθαι τεμενεσσι Ίσως εν σκιοεσσι, Τις ευγενης γενοιτο Αυτην ός απαγοιτο Εις πυργον τι η προς σε, Ο λιθινον σπεος γε!
Cernis in has valles
Quò ducunt tramite calles, Hanc mente in sedem Fer meditante pedem, Quisquis ades, bellæ Transfixus amore puellæ Aut patriæ care Tempus inane dare! Dumque jaces herbâ, Turtur flet voce superbâ, Arboreoque throno Flet philomela sono : Spelunca apparet
Quam dux Trojanus amaret, In simili nido
Nam fuit icta Dido.
There are statues gracing This noble place in- All heathen gods, And nymphs so fair; Bold Neptune, Cæsar, And Nebuchadnezzar, All standing naked In the open air! There is a boat on The lake to float on, And lots of beauties Which I can't entwine: But were I a preacher, Or a classic teacher, In every feature
I'd make 'em shine!
Dans ces classiques lieus Plus d'une statue brille, Et se présente aux yeux En parfait déshabille! Là Neptune on discerne, Et Jules César en plomb, Et Venus, et le tronc Du Général Holoferne. Veut-on voguer au large Sur ce lac? un esquif Offre à l'amateur craintif Les chances d'un naufrage. Que ne suis-je un Hugo,
Ou quelqu'auteur en vogue, En ce genre d'églogue. Je n'aurais pas d'égaux.
There is a stone there, That whoever kisses, Oh! he never misses
'Tis he may clamber To a lady's chamber, Or become a member Of parliament: A clever spouter
He'll sure turn out, or An out-and-outer, "To be let alone," Don't hope to hinder hirı, Or to bewilder him; Sure he's a pilgrim From the Blarney stone!*
*End of Millikin's Translation of the Groves of Blarney.
Une pierre s'y rencontre, Estimable trésor, Qui vaut son poids en or Au guide qui la montre. Qui baise ce monument, Acquiert la parole Qui doucement cajole; Il devient éloquent.
Au boudoir d'une dame Il sera bien reçu, Et même à son insçu Fera naître une flamme. Homme à bonnes fortunes, A lui on peut se fier
Pour mystifier
La Chambre des Communes.†
† Ici finist le Poème dit le Bois de Blar naye, copié du Livre de Doomsdaye, A. D. 1069
Ειδωλ' αγλαιζοντα Εστι διον τοπον τε. Των εθνικων θεών τε, Των Δρυάδων καλων τε Ποσειδων ηδε Καισαρ Τ' ιδου Ναβεχυδναισαρ' Εν αιθρια ἁπαντας Εστ' ιδειν γυμνους σταντας. Εν λιμνη εστι πλοιον, Ει τις πλεειν θελοι αν Και καλα οσσ' εγω σοι Ου δυναμ' εκτυπωσαι· Αλλ' ει γ' ειην λογιστης, Η διδασκαλος σοφιστής, Τοτ' εξοχωτατ' αν σοι Δειξαιμι το άπαν σοι.
Εκει λιθον τ' εὑρησεις Αυτον μεν ει φιλησεις Ευδαιμον το φίλημα Ρητωρ γαρ παραχρημα Γενησεαι συ δεινος, Γυναιξι τ' ερατεινος, Σεμνοτατα τε λαλῶν Εν βουλη των μετ' αλλων
Και εν ταις αγοραισι “ Καθολικαις” βοαισι Δημος σοι 'κολουθησει, Και χειρας σοι κροτήσει Ως ανδρι τῳ μεγιστῳ Δημογέρων Τ αριστι Ω ὁδος ουρανονδε
Δια Βλαρνικον λιθον γ' γ.
* Τέλος της Ύλης Βλανρικης. Ex Codice Vatic. vetustiss, incert. avi circa an. Sal. CM,
Plumbea signa Deûm
Nemus ornant, grande tropheum Stas ibi, Bacche teres! Nec sine fruge Ceres, Neptunique vago
De flumine surgit imago; Julius hic Cæsar Stat, Nabechud que Nezar! Navicula insonti Dat cuique pericula ponti, Si quis cymbâ hâc cum Vult super ire lacum. Carmini huic ter sum
Conatus hic addere versum:
Pauper at ingenio,
Plus nihil invenio!
Fortunatam autem Premuerunt oscula cautem (Fingere dùm conor Debitus huic sic honor): Quam bene tu fingis Qui saxi oracula lingis, Eloquioque sapis Quod dedit ille lapis ! Gratus homo bellis Fit unctis melle labellis, Gratus erit populo Oscula dans scopulo ; Fit subito orator, Caudâque sequente senator. Scandere vis athram ? Hanc venerare petram !+†
† Explicit hic Carmen de Nemore Blar nensi. Ex Codice No. 464 in Bibliotheca Breræ apud Mediolanum.
Leis an be lefri beanais an art seo Mar treun-Mastram no Helen Čaofn Wi'l ceañfeadna air fydna tíre Cosṁvil lejġi ċum arraċtais d' s-ajail. Ta cajsleañʼqa tjomċjoll, njalsófiċ pleurtą, A ballajd teaña d'argun na sgrios; Ace Olber Cromjvl; d'fúg go fañ í, As rin bearna mjór joija fálta sin.*
"He spread his vegetable store,
And gaily pressed and smiled; And, skilled in legendary lore, The lingering hours beguiled." GOLDSMITH.
BEFORE we resume the thread (or yarn) of Frank Cresswell's narrative concerning the memorable occurrences which took place at Blarney, on the remarkable occasion of Sir Walter Scott's visit to "the groves," we feel it imperative on us to set ourselves right with an illustrious correspondent, relative to a most important particular. We have received, through that useful medium of the interchange of human thought, "the twopenny post," a letter which we think of the utmost consequence, inasmuch as it goes to impeach the veracity, not of Father Prout (patrem quis dicere falsum audeat ?), but of the young and somewhat facetious barrister who has been the volunteer chronicler of his life and conversations.
For the better understanding of the thing, as it is likely to become a quæstio vexata in other quarters, we may be allowed to bring to recollection that, in enumerating the
* Fragment of a Celtic MS., from the King's Library, Copenhagen.
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