"I walked entranced
Through a land of morn,
The sun, with wondrous excess of light,
Shone down and glanced
O'er seas of corn,
And lustrous gardens aleft and right;
Even in the clime
Of resplendent Spain,
Beams no such sun upon such a land;
But it was the time
'Twas in the reign,
Of Cáhál Mor of the Wine-red Hand."
Davis, and the school of poets whom he led, indulged little in unpractical dreams and purposeless regrets. For the first time, the longings of the present and the hopes of the future were spoken of encouragingly. If, at judicious intervals, the pictures of Ireland's golden era were uncovered, it was to stimulate existing ardor—not to beget reverie; to develop latent faculties of work, and not to enfeeble by discouragement the thews and sinews of national life already beginning to thrive in busy usefulness. Freedom was to be purchased at any risk. Davis might never live to see its realization, but he could insure its nearer approach. His first duty, assisted by his zealous co-partners, was to educate, to place in the hands of the people, the means of enjoying those privileges which the leaders had set themselves to win. Gradually but surely the good work progressed. The life of "Treeney the Robber," the "Irish Rogues and Rapparees," the astounding adventures of the "Seven Champions of Christendom," the pasquinades of "Billy Bluff," and "Paddy's Resource," began to pall on the taste of the peasantry, when, by degrees, they became acquainted with the authentic history and the glorious traditions of their country. Sketches of Irish saints and scholars, whose fame for sanctity and learning throughout Christendom rivalled that of St. Benedict as a founder, and St. Thomas of Aquino as a subtle doctor, appeared week by week in the characters of Columbanus and Duns Scotus, Kilian and Johannes Erigena, Colman and Columbkille. Among other schemes he planned the publication of one hundred cheap books to be printed by Duffy, materials for which were to be sought for in the State paper office of London, the MSS. of Trinity College Library, and the valuable papers still preserved in Irish convents at Rome, Louvain, Salamanca, and other places on the continent.
The great secret of Davis's success was his energy, which nothing could suppress or diminish—neither the imprisonment of his co-laborers, the fatigue and anxiety of unassisted endeavor, or the clash of party strife. From his teachings sprang two schools of workers, alike in the ends which each proposed to win, but differing in the methods adopted for its attainment. The one, the pronounced literateurs of the Nation; the other, the organizers who propounded throughout the country the doctrines enunciated by the official organ. The historic Nation was the great channel through which the current of politics sped with a precipitous force, that nothing could withstand. From the date of its first edition it had become universally popular. Even those whose political views were at variance with its teaching were glad to be able to purchase a sheet whose literary excellence elicited their surprise and admiration. But it was among the common people that it had its widest circle of readers. On Sunday mornings while awaiting Mass before the Chapel gate, or on winter evenings around the blacksmith's forge, the peasants would assemble to hear one of their number read aloud rebel verse and passionate prose, the high literary value of which they knew almost instinctively how to appreciate. Though sold at sixpence a copy, a high figure for a weekly newspaper, especially so for the people who were to be its immediate supporters, it had a wonderful circulation, even in the poorest districts. Dillon, one of its founders, writing to its editor, Gavan Duffy, from a poor village in Mayo, said: "I am astonished at the success of the Nation in this poor place. There is not a place in Ireland perhaps a village poorer than itself, or surrounded by a poorer population. You would not guess how many Nations came to it on Sunday last! No less than twenty-three! There are scarcely so many houses in the town!" Two of the greatest critics, that ever presided over the domain of letters, spoke enthusiastically of the poetry which was selected from its columns, and which has since been printed and sold by the tens of thousands. Macaulay confessed he was much struck by the energy and beauty of the volume. Lord Jeffrey, in a fit of playful confidence, said that he was a helpless victim "to these enchanters of the lyre." The "Spirit of the Nation" was as uncontestably the typical poetry of Ireland, as the songs of Burns set forth the national sentiment of Scotland. The poetry of Davis, in a marked degree, is characterized by all the distinctive qualities of the Celtic race,—impulsive ardor, filial affection, headlong intrepidity, mirth and friendship, all imperceptibly interwoven with a thread of chaste melancholy, and all subordinated to feelings of Christian faith and reverence. It was his patriotic endeavor to restore the old Irish names of places, and by degrees replace them in permanent usage. How well he succeeded in handling phrases in the Irish vernacular, without marring the most euphonious rhythm, may be seen in the following piece, O'Brien of Arra.
"Tall are the towers of O'Kennedy—
Broad are the lands of MacCaura—
Desmond feeds five hundred men a-day;
Yet here's to O'Brien of Arra!
Up from the castle of Drumineer,
Down from the top of Camailte,
Clansmen and kinsmen are coming here
To give him the cead mile failte.
"See you the mountains look huge at eve—
So is our chieftain in battle;
Welcome he has for the fugitive,
Usquebaugh, fighting and cattle!
Up from the Castle of Drumineer,
Down from the top of Camailte,
Gossip and alley are coming here
To give him the cead mile failte.
"Horses the valleys are tramping on,
Sleek from the Sassenach manger;
Creaghts the hills are encamping on,
Empty the bawns of the stranger!
Up from the Castle of Drumineer,
Down from the top of Camailte,
Kern and bonaght are coming here
To give him the cead mile failte.
"He has black silver from Killaloe—
Ryan and Carroll are neighbors—
Nenagh submits with a fuililiú—
Butler is meat for our sabres!
Up from the castle of Drumineer,
Down from the top of Camailte,
Ryan and Carroll are coming here
To give him the cead mile failte.
"T'is scarce a week since through Ossory
Chased he the Baron of Durrow—
Forced him five rivers to cross, or he
Had died by the sword of Red Murrough!
Up from the Castle of Drumineer,
Down from the top of Camailte,
All the O'Briens are coming here
To give him the cead mile failte.
"Tall are the towers of O'Kennedy—
Broad are the lands of MacCaura—
Desmond feeds five hundred men a-day;
Yet here's to O'Brien of Arra.
Up from the Castle of Drumineer.
Down from the top of Camailte,
Clansmen and kinsmen are coming here
To give him the cead mile failte."
The Battle of Fontenoy is the corner-stone of the fame of Thomas Davis as a poet. No greater battle-ballad has ever been written. Beside it the ballads of Campbell are scarcely perfect. Davis and Campbell are each typical of a distinct school of painting. Davis entered into minute detail with the love of a pre-Raphaelite; Campbell wields the brush after the manner of one of the old masters. Unhappily for his country Davis died almost suddenly in the year 1845. He had not the happiness to see the beneficial results, which ensuing years brought to the work, which he was the first to begin. His character might be pithily expressed in the words which he poetically wished might be inscribed on his tomb: "He served his country, and loved his kind." A warm heart, and a stainless name, shed lustre on the chivalrous patriot. An earnest Protestant, he was no bigot. Of gentle birth and rearing, he never narrowed his prejudices to petty distinctions of class or creed; but threw in his individual help with the humbler striving of sturdy commoner and frieze-coated peasant. The measure of national advancement, which he accomplished, did not die with him, but lives to our time. It would require little space to prove here that the literary societies, the political club assemblies, the societies for the promotion of the Irish language and industries, the discipline of national unity, which controls the whole Irish movement in our day, are but the practical sequence of the lessons which Davis and his party taught and perpetuated. And if the hour is now at hand when the hard-fought battle of a century is to be decided for us in glorious victory; if to us it is given, through the efforts of the gallant patriots who still continue the good fight, to set the banner of victory on the temple of national independence, history yet survives and points its backward finger in abiding gratitude to the unforgotten workers, who laid the foundation of the citadel, which we are to open and inhabit.