CHILDREN OF THE CAPTIVITY
With the exception of "the like" there is nothing in the wording of this panegyric that would even suggest it had been uttered by an Irishman. To stud the page with "ut" and "av" instead of "it" and "of" is of no avail. Irish people do not say these things; there is a sound that is a half-tone between the two, not to be captured by English voices, still less by English vowels. The shortcoming is, of course, trivial to those who do not suffer because of it, but want of perception of word and phrase and turn of thought means more than mere artistic failure, it means want of knowledge of the wayward and shrewd and sensitive minds that are at the back of the dialect.
The very wind that blows softly over brown acres of bog carries perfumes and sounds that England does not know: the women digging the potato-land are talking of things that England does not understand. The question that remains is whether England will ever understand.
SLIPPER'S A B C OF
FOX-HUNTING
A is for Alphabet
"A is for Alphabet.
Faith! I'm in dhread
It's hardly I'll battle it out up to Z."
