writ de heretico comburendo, which had placed fire and faggot at the disposal of the dominant creed, whatever that might be at any particular time; and an Act against profane cursing and swearing, a vice frightfully prevalent in both countries since the reactionary influence of the Restoration had repudiated the virtues with the treason of the Puritans, all the most important measures of this Parliament will have been enumerated-some of them indeed by anticipation, as it continued its sessions until the beginning of the year 1698-9. Before that time, an event had occurred which materially altered the face of affairs in Ireland. Lord Capel had come to the country an invalid. His letter of July, 1694, alludes to his illness. His malady gained ground, and baffled the skill of his physicians. At Chapelizod, a village delightfully and salubriously situated in the valley of the Liffey, a few miles westward from Dublin, are still shown the traces of an old mansion, called the King's House, which had been purchased from the Eustace family by Charles II., and formed the country residence of the viceroys, until the Phoenix Park was enclosed and built upon. Thither the Lord Deputy had retired during the spring of 1696, partly to prove the invigorating virtues of the air, partly as a refuge from the fatigues of government. About the same time Sir Richard Cox, himself in precarious health, had sought in England a relief from those anxieties which the continued hostility of the Court could not fail to engender in a sensitive mind like his. There he had favour and friendship to support him. Sydney had once declared that he never would lose sight of the champion of perilled liberty and the associate of his labours for the pacification of Ireland. He now showed that he had not forgotten his promise. Godolphin respected him for his judicial skill and integrity. The Southwells loved him-the one for his unremitting labours in furtherance of the trade and commerce of his country; the other for his philosophic acquirements and literary tastes, as well as for his public and private virtues. Notwithstanding all these supports, however, his spirits continued to be oppressed by the thought that so many whom he regarded lay under the same cloud of courtly disfavour as himself: above all, that Porter, whom he looked up to as a pattern of probity and wisdom, should share in it, pained and distressed him. He was soon to be relieved on this score. As Lord Capel's malady increased, and his danger became more imminent, those of his party who had gone the greatest lengths in opposition to the independent and upright policy of the disgraced privy councillors were filled with alarm. They knew that on the Lord Deputy's life hung their sole tenure of authority. Once he was gone, the whole fabric of the faction he had formed would crumble to pieces. In fear and haste they repaired to the sick man's chamber at Chapelizod; but they found him too much exhausted to assist personally at their deliberations. Under these circumstances, they drew up a warrant for creating certain parties Lords Justices, in the hope that, on the Lord Deputy's death, the Government might be considered as surviving in these functionaries, at least until his Majesty's pleasure should be known, and so the immediate entrance of their opponents at the open doors of office be prevented. To this instrument they affixed the Privy Seal; but when it came to having the docquet committed to the clerk, they hesitated to trust him, fearing lest the public should discover before the proper moment-that is, as we must conclude, before the decease of the Lord Deputy -into whose hands the reins of Government were to be committed. In the end, they abandoned the project for the time. Another draft met with the same fate. At last, in the month of May, seeing the Lord Deputy's life fast drawing to a close, Brigadier Wolseley and Mr. Stone agreed to take a decisive step: they accordingly repaired to the house of Sir Richard Cox in Dublin, during his absence in England, for the purpose of obtaining from his clerk the signet which was then in his keeping. The clerk not being in the way, the intruders unceremoniously broke open Cox's chamber-door, and ransacked his desk and papers, until they found the seal, which they forthwith affixed to a new warrant; and then spurred for Chapelizod, urged by the apprehension of Capel's death occurring before they should have accomplished their object. He was alive when they arrived; but the most difficult part of the business was yet to be performed. A patent was prepared, constituting Morrogh Viscount Blesinton and William Wolseley, Esquire, Master of the Ordnance, Lords Justices during his Majesty's pleasure, or until the Lord Deputy should be restored to his health. This patent bore date the 16th of May. But before it could have any effect, the Great Seal would have to be affixed to it; and this was in the custody of the Chancellor, Porter. On the morning of the 17th, this functionary was summoned to Chapelizod, and there required by Blesinton and his friends to place the seal to the instrument they laid before him. Porter bethought him a moment, and then expressed a desire to see the Lord Deputy. This they dared not concede. The breach between Capel and Porter had continued unrepaired. The latter stood firm in conscious integrity of purpose, having besides deep injuries to resent, if we may believe what was currently insinuated, that Capel had himself been privy to the fabrication of some of the charges against him, on the occasion of the Parliamentary impeachment. On the other hand, the Lord Deputy lay, enervated by sickness, on his dying bed; and, even if his followers had been ready to hazard the consequences of an interview, would himself naturally have shunned the approach of one he had so deeply offended. What the Chancellor foresaw took place. The interview was declined; and that personage peremptorily refused to affix the Great Seal to the patent, without the express authority of the Lord Deputy. All was confusion. A meeting of the Chief Judges, the Attorney and Solicitor-Generals, and some of the Council, was held at Chapelizod, to consider what was to be done at that critical moment; but their consultation was fruitless-the Chancellor was immoveable and in a few days Lord Capel died. FLOW AND EBB. PART FIRST. THERE stand a beech and a sycamore Around the rocks in whispers glide, And at eve, when the sun enshrines the crest Of the tall black mountains beyond in light, Two names are carved on the beechen bark; And closed the cup of each wearied flower; The golden valved gates of the Night, Two were there by the beechen stem. He that carved the names on the tree And she that sat on the turf below, The grassy marge that fringed the tide, The carver's face, and the carver's hand, Watched with the earnest eyes of a bride, And her voice when she spoke was soft and low, The smile on his face was the smile that lit On all in the world that she loved best, Was the smile in the evening east that lies, And the quiet, silvery, trembling moon Looketh adown from the deepening blue, And here and there a dreamy star Telleth of glories strange and far, In the great and solemn skies. Deeper and deeper soon became Under the hand of the youth each name; And he carved a circle round and round, To mark the undivided life Of the love-lit path that lay before. It seemed to the heart of the fair young wife But the strain of the sea was tuned to sorrow, PART SECOND. Over the trees and the winding bay Many a summer bloomed and smiled, Ever the winter surges wild Dashed on the rocks in stormy play. Once at last,-in the autumn time, When the sycamore boughs were brown and bare, And the few and reddened leaves of the beech At every blast flew up in the air, And sailed far out to sea There came an old man with hair of grey, In doubt and fear, till he found them at last, And he knew her name before his own, Old they were, and crooked, and worn, Half filled up, and half o'ergrown; He kissed the loved name o'er and o'er, In the red leaves fallen under the tree; He saw the fiery path of light Across the tide-forsaken sands, Till sank the sun in the kingly west; And he thought of her who was sleeping there, And the daisies looking up from her breast To Heaven in living prayer. He watched her name through the twilight dim, He, with the thin and scattered hair, Of the waves of Time that bore him home; She, with the starry crown of light By the angel-warders of glory given, Came the lost child of the King of Heaven; As if the star of Hope afar To guide him up cach toilsome mile Glimmered ever, but glimmered only; The silence spoke of Paradise. There came a voice to the wanderer's heart— Of her who bent above him there, That made his wearied soul rejoice? To the pilgrim's longing, waiting eye; And he saw the rainbow play of the walls, Gates that were open eternally; The golden streets, and Life's fair tree And over all, the Eternal light Flooding with glory all for ever. And high the song of triumph swelled, The victory-hymn to martyrs given; And like a sound of the upper world, The great old sea, to the echoing shore, "Evermore !-evermore!-evermore !" A. E. M. |