mint!" "Well done!" said the piper--"Play up!" said the coiner, "My _golden character_ I'll always maintain! And, compared with the schemers who rule and befool us, We're real honest men and good _boys_ in the lane!" Then Mannix put fire to his grisset, And out of his mould he shook many a _shiner_, But ere he had time to impress it, In _roll'd_ the peelers and snaffled the coiner, So there was an end to the piping and coining, And a ruction was kick'd up, but no one was slain,-- "I'm done!" said the coiner--"Cheer up," said the piper, "Fortune will favour the brave in the lane." "We have you, at last!" cried the peelers, "Tho' many a day we have chased you in vain!" "Then," said Mannix, "your dungeons and jailors May all be high hang'd--and farewell to the lane!" Then off ran the coiner, and loud laughed the piper, As his friend disappear'd thro' night's darkness and rain, Like a shaft from a quiver, he plung'd o'er the river, And left the bold peelers befool'd in the lane. ----M. Hogan. [Illustration: 0293] MY MAURIA NI MILLEÔN |Will you come where golden furze I mow, My Mauria ni Milleôn?" 'To bind for you I'd gladly go, My Bliss on Earth, mine own. To chapel, too, I would repair, Though not to aid my soul in prayer, But just to gazé with rapture where You stand, _mo buchal baun_" * "Will you rove the garden glades with me, O Flower of Maids, alone?" "What wondrous scenes therein to see, My Bliss on Earth, mine own?" "The apples from green boughs to strike, To watch the trout leap from the lake, And caress a pretty _cailin_ ** like My Mauria ni Milleôn. "Will you seek with me the dim church aisle, O Mauria ni Milleôn?" "What pleasant scenes to see the while, My Bliss on Earth, mine own?" "We'd list the chanting voice and prayer Of foreign pastor preaching there, O, we'd finish the marriage with my fair White Flower of Maids alone." * _Mo buchal baun_, my fair boy. ** _Cailin_, maiden. She sought the dim church aisle with me, My Bliss on Earth, most fair! She sought the dim church aisle with me, O grief! O burning care! [Illustration: 0295] I plunged my glittering, keen-edged blade In the bosom of that loving maid, Till gushed her heart's blood, warm and red, Down on the cold ground there. "Alas! what deed is this you do? My Bliss on Earth, _mo store!_ * What woful deed is this you do, O youth whom I adore? Ah, spare our child and me, my love, And the seven lands of earth I'll rove Ere cause of grief to you I prove For ever--ever more." I bore her to the mountain peak, The Flower of Maids, so lone! I bore her to the mountain bleak, My thousand woes, _mo vrone._ **