The moral of our song is obvious, though you will observe the story is told with all possible delicacy and good taste, a characteristic, by the way, of our best Gaelic poetry. The reader may easily understand that, sung in proper time and place, and with proper feeling, such a song is calculated to have a good effect, and convey a healthy lesson in its own indirect way, when a sermon or moral exhortation, however well meant, would be altogether out of the question. There is much sound sense in Mackworth Praed’s Chaunt of the Brazen Head, the first verse of which is this—
“I think, whatever mortals crave
With impotent endeavour,
A wreath—a rank—a throne—a grave—
The world goes round for ever;
I think that life is not too long,
And, therefore, I determine,
That many people read a song,
Who will not read a sermon.”
At a bridal, baptism, or other merry-making, such a song as the above is calculated to do more good than the most laboured, well-meant, and goody-goody sermon that ever was preached. As we rode away from yonder cottage door, the woman resuming her task, and chanting a gay and lively air in accompaniment, we were reminded of a verse quite apropos to the occasion:—