thing perfect and good of its kind. J. E. P. THE CHASE, A POEM TRANSLATED FROM THE IRISH. OISIN. O son of Calphruin! thou whose ear Sweet chant of psalms delights to hear, Hast thou ere heard the tale, How Fionn urged the lonely chase, Apart from all the Fenian race, Brave sons of Innisfail? PATRICK. O royal born! whom none exceeds In moving song, or hardy deeds, That tale, to me as yet untold, Though far renown’d, do thou unfold In truth severely wise, From fancy’s wanderings far apart: For what is fancy’s glozing art But falsehood in disguise? OISIN. O! ne’er on gallant Fenian race Fell falsehood’s accusation base: By faith of deeds, by strength of hand, By trusty might of battle-brand, We spread afar our glorious fame, And safely from each conflict came. Ne’er sat a monk in holy chair, Devote to chanting hymn and prayer, More true than the Fenians bold: No chief like Fionn, world around, Was e’er to bards so gen’rous found, With gifts of ruddy gold. If lived the son of Morné fleet, Who ne’er for treasure burned; Or Duiné’s son to woman sweet, Who ne’er from battle turned, But fearless with his single glaive A hundred foemen dared to brave: If lived Macgaree stern and wild, That hero of the trenchant brand; Or Caoilte, Ronan’s witty child, Of liberal heart and open hand; Or Oscar, once my darling boy, Thy psalms would bring me little joy. If lived, the Fenian deeds to sing, Sweet Fergus with his voice of glee; Or Daire, who trilled a faultless string, Small pleasure were thy bells to me. If lived the dauntless little Hugh, Or Fillan, courteous, kind and meek, Or Conan bald, for whom the dew Of sorrow yet is on my cheek, Or that small dwarf whose power could steep The Fenian host in death-like sleep-- More sweet one breath of theirs would be Than all thy clerks’ sad psalmody. PATRICK. Thy chiefs renowned extol no more, O son of kings--nor number o’er; But low, on bended knee, record The power and glory of the Lord; And beat the breast, and shed the tear, And still his holy name revere, Almighty, by whose potent breath Thy vanquished Fenians sleep in death. OISIN.