’Yearsafteryears，theirswiftwaykeeping，Likesereleavesdownthycurrentsweeping，Arelostforaye，andsped——
AndDeaththewintrysoilisheapingAsfastasflowersareshed。
Andshewhowanderedbymyside，Andbreathedenchantmento’erthytide，Thatmakestheestillmyfriendandguide——
Andsheisdead。’
TheselinesIhavetranscribedinordertoproveapointwhichIhavehearddenied，namely，thatanIrishpeasant——
fortheirauthorwasnomore——maywriteatleastcorrectlyinthematterofmeasure，language，andrhyme；andIshalladdseveralextractsinfurtherillustrationofthesamefact，afactwhoseassertion，itmustbeallowed，mayappearsomewhatparadoxicaleventothosewhoareacquainted，thoughsuperficially，withHiberniancomposition。Therhymesare，itmustbegranted，inthegeneralityofsuchproductions，verylatitudinarianindeed，andasaveteranvotaryofthemuseonceassuredme，dependwhollyuponthewowlsvowels，asmaybeseeninthefollowingstanzaofthefamous’ShanavanVoicth。’
’“What’llwehaveforsupper？“
SaysmyShanavanVoicth；
“We’llhaveturkeysandroastBEEF，Andwe’lleatitverySWEET，Andthenwe’lltakeaSLEEP，“
SaysmyShanavanVoicth。’
ButIamdesirousofshowingyouthat，althoughbarbarismsmayanddoexistinournativeballads，therearestilltobefoundexceptionswhichfurnishexamplesofstrictcorrectnessinrhymeandmetre。
WhethertheybeonewhitthebetterforthisIhavemydoubts。Inordertoestablishmyposition，IsubjoinaportionofaballadbyoneMichaelFinley，ofwhommoreanon。TheGENTLEMANspokenofinthesongisLordEdwardFitzgerald。
’Thedaythattraitorssouldhimandinimiesboughthim，Thedaythattheredgoldandredbloodwaspaid——
ThenthegreenturnedpaleandthrembledlikethedeadleavesinAutumn，Andtheheartan’hopeivIrelandinthecouldgravewaslaid。
’ThedayIsawyoufirst，withthesunshinefallin’roundye，Myheartfairlyopenedwiththegrandeuroftheview：
FortenthousandIrishboysthatdaydidsurroundye，An’Isworetostandbythemtilldeath，an’fightforyou。
’Yeworthebravestgentleman，an’thebestthateverstood，Andyoureyelidneverthrembledfordangernorfordread，An’noblenesswasflowin’ineachstreamofyourblood——
Mybleasingonyounightau’day，an’Glorybeyourbed。
’Myblackan’bittercurseonthehead，an’heart，an’hand，Thatplotted，wished，an’workedthefallofthisIrishherobold；
God’scurseupontheIrishmanthatsouldhisnativeland，An’hellconsumetodustthehandthatheldthethraitor’sgold。’
SuchwerethepoliticsandpoetryofMichaelFinley，inhisday，perhaps，themostnotedsong-makerofhiscountry；butasgeniusisneverwithoutitseccentricities，Finleyhadhispeculiarities，andamongthese，perhapsthemostamusingwashisrootedaversiontopen，ink，andpaper，inperfectindependenceofwhich，allhiscompositionswerecompleted。Itisimpossibletodescribethejealousywithwhichheregardedthepresenceofwritingmaterialsofanykind，andhiseverwakefulfearslestsomeliterarypirateshouldtransferhisoralpoetrytopaper——fearswhichwerenotaltogetherwithoutwarrant，inasmuchastherecitationandsingingoftheseoriginalpiecesweretohimasourceofwealthandimportance。IrecollectupononeoccasionhisdetectingmeintheveryactoffollowinghisrecitationwithmypencilandIshallnotsoonforgethisindignantscowl，asstoppingabruptlyinthemidstofaline，hesharplyexclaimed：
’Ismypomeapigsty，orwhat，thatyouwantasurveyor’sground-planofit？’
Owingtothisabsurdscruple，Ihavebeenobliged，withoneexception，thatoftheballadof’PhaudhrigCrohoore，’torestsatisfiedwithsuchsnatchesandfragmentsofhispoetryasmymemorycouldbearaway——afactwhichmustaccountforthemutilatedstateinwhichIhavebeenobligedtopresenttheforegoingspecimenofhiscomposition。
Itwasinvainformetoreasonwiththismanofmetresupontheunreasonablenessofthisdespoticandexclusiveassertionofcopyright。Iwellrememberhisanswertomewhen，amongotherarguments，Iurgedtheadvisabilityofsomecareforthepermanenceofhisreputation，asamotivetoinducehimtoconsenttohavehispoemswrittendown，andthusreducedtoapalpableandenduringform。
’Ioftennoticed，’saidhe，’whenamistidbespreadin’，alittlebriertolookasbig，you’dthink，asanoaktree；an’
sameway，inthedimmnessivthenightfall，Ioftenseenamantremblin’andcrassin’
himselfasifasperitwasbeforehim，atthesightivasmallthornbush，thathe’dleapoverwithaseifthedaylightandsunshinewasinit。An’that’stherasonwhyIthinkitidbebetterforthelikesivmetoberemimberedintraditionthantobewritteninhistory。’
Finleyhasnowbeendeadnearlyelevenyears，andhisfamehasnotprosperedbythetacticswhichhepursued，forhisreputation，sofarfrombeingmagnified，hasbeenwhollyobliteratedbythemistsofobscurity。
Withnosmalldifficulty，andnoinconsiderablemanoeuvring，Isucceededinprocuring，atanexpenseoftroubleandconsciencewhichyouwillnodoubtthinkbutpoorlyrewarded，anaccurate’report’ofoneofhismostpopularrecitations。ItcelebratesoneofthemanydaringexploitsoftheoncefamousPhaudhrigCrohooreinprosaicEnglish，PatrickConnor。IhavewitnessedpowerfuleffectsproduceduponlargeassembliesbyFinley’srecitationofthispoemwhichhewaswont，uponpressinginvitation，todeliveratweddings，wakes，andthelike；ofcoursethepowerofthenarrativewasgreatlyenhancedbythefactthatmanyofhisauditorshadseenandwellknewthechiefactorsinthedrama。
’PHAUDHRIGCROHOORE。
Oh，PhaudhrigCrohoorewasthebrothofaboy，Andhestoodsixfooteight，Andhisarmwasasroundasanotherman’sthigh，’TisPhaudhrigwasgreat，——
Andhishairwasasblackastheshadowsofnight，Andhungoverthescarsleftbymanyafight；
Andhisvoice，likethethunder，wasdeep，strong，andloud，Andhiseyelikethelightnin’fromunderthecloud。
Andallthegirlslikedhim，forhecouldspakecivil，Andsweetwhenhechoseit，forhewasthedivil。
An’therewasn’tagirlfromthirty-fiveundher，Divilamatterhowcrass，buthecouldcomeroundher。
Butofallthesweetgirlsthatsmiledonhim，butoneWasthegirlofhisheart，an’helovedheralone。
An’warmasthesun，astherockfirman’sure，WastheloveoftheheartofPhaudhrigCrohoore；
An’he’ddieforonesmilefromhisKathleenO’Brien，Forhislove，likehishatred，wassthrongasthelion。
’ButMichaelO’HanlonlovedKathleenaswellAshehatedCrohoore——an’thatsamewaslikehell。
ButO’BrienlikedHIM，fortheywerethesameparties，TheO’Briens，O’Hanlons，an’Murphys，andCartys——
An’theyallwenttogetheran’hatedCrohoore，Forit’smanythebatin’hegavethembefore；
An’O’HanlonmadeuptoO’Brien，an’sayshe：
“I’llmarryyourdaughter，ifyou’llgivehertome。“
Andthematchwasmadeup，an’whenShrovetidecameon，Thecompanyassimbledthreehundredifone：
TherewasalltheO’Hanlons，an’Murphys，an’Cartys，An’theyoungboysan’girlsavallo’themparties；
An’theO’Briens，avcoorse，gatheredstrongonday，An’thepipersan’fiddlersweretearin’away；
Therewasroarin’，an’jumpin’，an’jiggin’，an’flingin’，An’jokin’，an’blessin’，an’kissin’，an’singin’，An’theyworalllaughin’——whynot，tobesure？——
HowO’HanloncameinsideofPhaudhrigCrohoore。
An’theyalltalkedan’laughedthelengthofthetable，Atin’an’dhrinkin’allwhiletheyworable，Andwithpipin’an’fiddlin’an’roarin’liketundher，Yourheadyou’dthinkfairlywassplittin’asundher；
Andthepriestcalledout，“Silence，yeblackguards，agin!“
An’hetookuphisprayer-book，justgoin’tobegin，An’theyallheldtheirtonguesfromtheirfunnin’andbawlin’，Sosilentyou’dnoticethesmallestpinfallin’；
An’thepriestwasjustbeg’nin’toread，whinthedoorSprungbacktothewall，andinwalkedCrohoore——
Oh!PhaudhrigCrohoorewasthebrothofaboy，Anthestoodsixfooteight，An’hisarmwasasroundasanotherman’sthigh，’TisPhaudhrigwasgreat——
An’hewalkedslowlyup，watchedbymanyabrighteye，Asablackcloudmovesonthroughthestarsofthesky，An’nonesthrovetostophim，forPhaudhrigwasgreat，Tillhestoodallalone，justappositthesateWhereO’HanlonandKathleen，hisbeautifulbride，Weresittingsoilligantoutsidebyside；
An’hegaveheronelookthatherheartalmostbroke，An’heturnedtoO’Brien，herfather，andspoke，An’hisvoice，likethethunder，wasdeep，sthrong，andloud，An’hiseyeshonelikelightnin’fromunderthecloud：
“Ididn’tcomeherelikeatame，crawlin’mouse，ButIstandlikeamaninmyinimy’shouse；
Inthefield，ontheroad，Phaudhrigneverknewfear，Ofhisfoemen，an’Godknowshescornsithere；
Solavemeataise，forthreeminutesorfour，TospaketothegirlI’llneverseemore。“
An’toKathleenheturned，andhisvoicechangeditstone，Forhethoughtofthedayswhenhecalledherhisown，An’hiseyeblazedlikelightnin’fromunderthecloudOnhisfalse-heartedgirl，reproachfulandproud，An’sayshe：“Kathleenbawn，isitthruewhatIhear，Thatyoumarryofyourfreechoice，withoutthreatorfear？
Ifso，spaketheword，an’I’llturnanddepart，Chatedonce，andonceonlybywoman’sfalseheart。“
Oh!sorrowandlovemadethepoorgirldumb，An’shethriedhardtospake，butthewordswouldn’tcome，Forthesoundofhisvoice，ashestoodthereforninther，Wintcouldonherheartasthenightwindinwinther。
An’thetearsinherblueeyesstoodtremblin’toflow，Andpalewashercheekasthemoonshineonsnow；
ThentheheartofbouldPhaudhrigswelledhighinitsplace，Forheknew，byonelookinthatbeautifulface，Thatthoughsthrangersan’foementheirpledgedhandsmightsever，Hertrueheartwashis，andhisonly，forever。
An’heliftedhisvoice，liketheagle’shoarsecall，An’saysPhaudhrig，“She’sminestill，inspiteofyezall!“
ThenupjumpedO’Hanlon，an’atallboywashe，An’helookedonbouldPhaudhrigasfierceascouldbe，An’sayshe，“Bythehokey!beforeyougoout，BouldPhaudhrigCrohoore，you，mustfightforabout。“
ThenPhaudhrigmadeanswer：“I’lldomyendeavour，“
An’withoneblowhestretchedbouldO’Hanlonforever。
InhisarmshetookKathleen，an’steppedtothedoor；
Andheleapedonhishorse，andflungherbefore；
An’theyallweresobother’d，thatnotamanstirredTillthegallopinghoofsonthepavementwereheard。
Thenuptheyallstarted，likebeesintheswarm，An’theyrizagreatshout，liketheburstofastorm，An’theyroared，andtheyran，andtheyshoutedgalore；
ButKathleenandPhaudhrigtheyneversawmore。
’Butthemdaysaregoneby，an’heisnomore；
An’thegreen-grassisgrowin’o’erPhaudhrigCrohoore，Forhecouldn’tbeaisyorquietatall；
Ashelivedabraveboy，heresolvedsotofall。
Andhetookagoodpike——forPhaudhrigwasgreat——
Andhefought，andhediedintheyearninety-eight。
An’thedaythatCrohooreinthegreenfieldwaskilled，Asthrongboywassthretched，andasthrongheartwasstilled。’
ItisduetothememoryofFinleytosaythattheforegoingballad，thoughbearingthroughoutastrongresemblancetoSirWalterScott’s’Lochinvar，’wasneverthelesscomposedlongbeforethatspiritedproductionhadseenthelight。
EndThePurcellPapers，Volume3