Then, as a matter of course, Dick called on the gentlemen to charge their glasses and fill high to a toast he had to propose—they would anticipate to whom he referred—a gentleman who was going to change his state of freedom for one of a happier bondage, &c., &c. Dick dashed off his speech with several mirth-moving allusions to the change that was coming over his friend Tom, and, having festooned his composition with the proper quantity of “rosy wreaths,” &c., &c., &c., naturally belonging to such speeches, he wound up with some hearty words—free from badinage, and meaning all they conveyed, and finished with the rhyming benediction of a “long life and a good wife” to him.
Tom having returned thanks in the same laughing style that Dick proposed his health, and bade farewell to the lighter follies of bachelorship for the more serious ones of wedlock, the road was now open for any one who was vocally inclined. Dick asked one or two, who said they were not within a bottle of their singing-point yet, but Tom Durfy was sure his friend the colonel would favour them.
“With pleasure,” said the colonel; “and I'll sing something appropriate to the blissful situation of philandering in which you have been indulging of late, my friend. I wish I could give you any idea of the song as I heard it warbled by the voice of an Indian princess, who was attached to me once, and for whom I ran enormous risks—but no matter—that's past and gone, but the soft tones of Zulima's voice will ever haunt my heart! The song is a favourite where I heard it—on the borders of Cashmere, and is supposed to be sung by a fond woman in the valley of the nightingales—'tis so in the original, but as we have no nightingales in Ireland, I have substituted the dove in the little translation I have made, which, if you will allow me, I'll attempt.”
Loud cries of “Hear, hear!” and tapping of applauding hands on the table followed, while the colonel gave a few preliminary hems; and after some little pilot tones from his throat, to show the way, his voice ascended in all the glory of song.
THE DOVE-SONG
I
“Coo! Coo! Coo! Coo! Thus did I hear the turtle-dove,
Coo! Coo! Coo! Murmuring forth her love;
And as she flew from tree to tree,
How melting seemed the notes to me—
Coo! Coo! Coo! So like the voice of lovers,
'T was passing sweet to hear
The birds within the covers,
In the spring-time of the year.
II
“Coo! Coo! Coo! Coo! Thus the song's returned again—
Coo! Coo! Coo! Through the shady glen;
But there I wandered lone and sad,
While every bird around was glad.
Coo! Coo! Coo! Thus so fondly murmured they,
Coo! Coo! Coo! While my love was away.
And yet the song to lovers,
Though sad, is sweet to hear,
From birds within the covers,
In the spring-time of the year.”
The colonel's song, given with Tom Loftus' good voice, was received with great applause, and the fellows all voted it catching, and began “cooing” round the table like a parcel of pigeons.