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home-made fastenings which have grappled him to her for ever. No, we cannot counter-work the strong repugnances of nature, and nature has said in her own imperious tone, that our glorious guest never can, never shall be anything but an Irishman (shouts of applause here lasted several minutes, during which the crowd rushed forward with a simultaneous impulse, seizing the hand of Mr. Moore, who was altogether overcome by the excitement of the scene and intensity of his feelings). Ah ! (exclaimed Mr. Boyse) I have, I find, touched a string of the Irish Harp, to which those of the Irish heart will for ever respond. I congratulate you, gentlemen, again on the devotedness with which you have welcomed our bard, with which you bless the happy accident which has brought our tuneful wanderer home, even for a
He is, I repeat, from top to toe, an Irish.
Aye ! every inch an Irishman, although to be sure, his inches may not be very many. I cannot, gentlemen, express to you the happiness I enjoy to-day in presenting you to such a man-no dandy literateur, no unfledged poetaster, no paltry retailer of borrowed inspiration, no noble nimcompoop, but him who is of right called the Bard of Ireland, the poet of the heart, a poet whom any nation in any age of the world might have been proud to claim. Oh! how delightful has been our task today, to encircle his brows with that myrtle crown which is undoubtedly his due, and re-assert for the thousandth time his undisputed title to the throne of poesy and song. The thought flitted for a moment across my mind as the distinguished stranger entered the gates of this place, that, once
having fairly got the bird into the cage, we might shut the door and keep him there. But a little more reflection said it would not do. The snared bird will seldom sing, and even if it should, it would be but the reiteration of the piteous screams of Sterne's poor captive starling,— I can't get out, I can't get out.' Well, then, imprisonment and coercion will not do in this age of liberty. We must open his door, we must let him out, we must give him the freedom which he loves, the freedom that he deserves, who has so fearlessly and feelingly vindicated his country's right to that first gift of Heaven to man. But, gentlemen, I am detaining you too long, and the first rite of hospitality due to the way-worn traveller is repose.
Your friend and bard has been of late exhausted by the overwhelming kindness of his countrymen. He has come to you from among the learned, the opulent, the high ones of the earth; but never, as he has so expressively told you just now, were his feelings so deeply affected, as by the reception you have given him this day. Allow me, before I conclude, to express my unaffected delight, that you should, by your demeanour on this happy occasion, have intimated as significantly as I have done myself expressly, that should hereafter considerations of business or health, convenience or recreation, render our distinguished friend desirous of a change-should he at any time feel disgusted with a cold world, or jaded or dinned by the turmoil of a stormy one, there never can be wanting, in the peaceful shades and warm hearts of Bannow, a refuge and a resting place for Moore ” (thunders of applause, with loud cries of “Bravo, Boyse," “ Hurrah for Tom Moore and God bless him !"
“Tom Moore and Erin go Bragh!”) Never was witnessed a scene of more tumultuous and heartfelt joy.
About twelve o'clock on Thursday, Moore proceeded in an open carriage, attended by the ladies of the Grange, to view the surrounding grounds and improvements. Here he was again met by delighted thousands who had come to do homage to the genius and literature of Ireland, of which Moore was so splendid an impersonation. A portion of the lawn had been railed off to accommodate the rustic votaries of Terpsichore, who in vain sought to "tire each other down,” and kept up the dance till a late hour of the night. A large marquee was pitched beyond the dancing ground, where wine and refreshments were abundantly supplied. But we are anticipating. On the bard's first arrival at Grange, several addresses of welcome and congratulation were presented to him, to all of which he replied in language replete at once with dignity and feeling. An address from the inhabitants of Bannow was read by Mr. Nicholas French, a young farmer, of Bannow.
In answer to an address which was next read by Mr. William Murphy, from Rathgan,
Moore said, "If I were even inclined to be a recreant, all this kindness—this most touching kindness, would be sufficient to grapple me to my country with bonds of iron (this sentiment was received with deafening cheers).
Mr. Lacy, on the part of the Wexford Slaney Amateurs, then read an address.
Moore, in answer, said,—“ It is peculiarly gratifying to me to receive this mark of regard from the town of Wexford, which is to me more than my
native place, as having been the birth-place of my beloved mother. I was indeed delighted with the thought, during my triumphal entry into Bannow (for triumphal it was, in the best sense of the word), that so many Wexfordians were present, to whom it
gave pleasure to witness the honourable eminence to which the grandson of their humble but honest fellow-townsman, old Tom Codd, of the Corn Market, had been, for no other qualities but honesty and independence of spirit, exalted by his kind countrymen.”
Wednesday night, as on the preceding one, bonfires blazed on a hundred hills, and every window in Bannow was illuminated. A balloon ascended from the grounds of Grange, to the astonishment of the rustic gazers. In short, nothing was wanted to mark the affectionate respect of the surrounding district towards the distinguished and beloved stranger.
On the forenoon of Friday he walked with Miss Boyse and the family of the Grange, attended by Mr. Martin Day, the architect, to an eminence near their residence, where he performed the ceremony, with all due solemnity, of laying the first stone of a tower intended to commemorate his visit, to “ Bannow's unborn race."
Mr. Boyse, senior, the proprietor of Bannow, was prevented by illness from participating in the reception of Moore.
Having received several addresses, Moore returned to Dublin, leaving “Bannow's banks " amidst the universal regrets of all who had the pleasure of welcoming the “Bard of Erin.”
In 1838, Moore visited Dublin again, and atten. ded the theatre publicly. His reception was of course most enthusiastic. He addressed to the audience the following remarks, which elicited loud applause, especially Moore's bappy allusion to Ireland's “own O'Connell.”
“ Unusual as it is to speak from the boxes of a theatre, I really cannot sit any longer silent under these repeated demonstrations of cordiality and affection, and therefore, bave nothing for it but to say, with Mr. Muddlework in the farce which we have just witnessed, and now for my oration.' It would require a voice, I fear, of far more compass than I command to make myself heard by the numerous friends who have here assembled to greet me; though had I the voice of Stentor himself, combined with the eloquence of Demosthenes, or of your own O'Connell, I should fail to convey to you a hundreth part of what I really feel at this great, this overpowering kindness. Not that I pretend to consider myself as wholly unworthy of such a reception, for that would be to do injustice to you, my kind friends, as well as myself. No; you have had in other times, and you have still far more able and eloquent champions of your cause.
But as the humble interpreter of those feelings, those proud though melancholy aspirations which breathe throughout our own undying songs- as the humble medium through which that voice of song and sorrow has been heard on other shores, awakening the sympathy of every people by whom the same wrongs, the same yearnings for freedom are felt in this respect I cannot but flatter myself that I am not wholly unworthy of your favours. It may be in the recollection of most of my hearers, that