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It has been oft with exultation said,

That Ireland never noxious reptiles bred,
But dire experience other truths declares,
Na spot on earth more deadly serpents
rear,

Who bask secure in deliterious pow'r,

And victims in whole hecatombs devour.
If nature in her grand creative speed,
Forgot to curse us with the viperous breed,

She soon alas! too amply made amends, And swarms on swarms in human shape she sends,

Which of all plagues that yet mankind
have curs'd,

Have never failed to be the very worst,
Dispensing rapine, misery and strife,
They gnaw the womb that gave the mon
sters life.

(To be Continued.)

Fear Fleatha ua Gnimh ro chan, re linn Eisibel do bheith i
cceannus na Sacsan.

Mo thruaighe! mar táid Gáoidhil!
Annamh intinn fhorbhfáoilidh,
Air an uair-se aig duine dhíobh ;
A n-uaisle uile air nimh níomh,
Baramhuil do bheirthear doibh;
Fuighioll tar éis a ndioghbhoigh,
'G a sníomh ó chroloighe a ceneadh ;
Nó as lion tórraimhe air ttilleadh,
Nó as luchd báirce fa r' bhrúchd muir,
Nó as drong fúair fios a saeghail,
Nó as geill a ngeibhionnaibh Gall,
Firionnaigh fa fheainn eachtrann!
Tugsad a ttreine air thaise;
Tugsad maise air mhí-mhaise;
Tugsad meanma air mháoith mheirtnidh;
Laoích fheardha nach aitheanntar!
Ata brat chiach ós a crionn,
Mhúchos glóir Gaoidhil Eireann;
Mar néall cceath, ghrian-bhaitheas goil,
Do leath d'iarghuaitheas orrtha.
Tarla ó Bhoinn go brúach Léin,
Dlighe is fiu aindligheadh;
Gur bhreath shaer le Fiannaibh Fáil,
An riaghail chlaen do chongbháil.
Ni bhi aig mac Righ o'n riaghail,
Aire air luth eich óir-shriannaigh,
No air sheilg oighe fa chiogh cnuic,
No air ghniomh soighe no seabhuic;
D'fhearaibh Fodhla is fath orchra.
Do threahhsad daimh danortha,
A n-ait graifne a ngroidheadh seang,
Gach faithche in oirear Eireann.
Tréoid Gall a celúaintibh a ccean,
Túir aelta a n-ait a ffoirgneadh,
Marguidh uatha in gach oirear,
Cruacha air ardaibh aenaigheadh.
Ni aithneadhann Inis Lógha,
Ni d'a faithaibh fqan mhóra,
Chuic dhláoireidhe a ndiaigh a n-áir,
Biaidh saer Fire'n a Sacsáin.
Ni aithnid aicme Gáoidhil,
Baaba buime a macáoimhidh,
'Sui aithneadheanu Eire iad-soin,
Tiad re chéile as a cerothaibh.
Is í an drong dhligheas d'aithne,
D' Inis Chuinn is comhthaighthe;
Ni Goill is áoidhigh aca,
Gaoidhil 'na ndroing dheorata,
Do léig Eire an tonn tríthi,
D'iomchar foirne coigcriche,
Arthrach Dhathi do tolladh,

Is í an an-chruth d' fheadamar:
Mar thimcheallas tonn anfaidh,
Le stoirm láoi lucht cáoil arthraigh
Saithe Gall ar ti a tiomchail,
Muna tti an d' Eirionnchaibh.
Bruid Bhalair co n-a bhraithribh,
Túatha dé do díoláithreidh;
Dar leat is neimh-threise a n-iumh,
Na beithreisi mic Mileadh.
Mar lucht na Tráoi air na toghail,
D'a ndichleith a ndiothromhaibh,
Fiann Teamhra a táid ó Thailteann,
A ffaid Sealbha seachaintear.
Cosmhuil re cloinn Israel,
Tshoir 's an Eigipt air eittréan.
Mic Mileadh, um Bhoinn' a bhus,
Ag síneadh dhóibh ó' ndúthchas,
Mar do bhi Magh Tuireadh a ttuaidh,
A ngeall mhic Céain an chéad úair,
La a sgarthana re téidhm ttinn,
Féidhm a n-athlógha air Eirinn.
Aig slógh Eireann an fhéoir ghloin,
Trúagh! gan ionnsamhail Heactoir,
Mic Primh re pobul Sacsan,
Cogadh dhibh go ndiongmhadh-san.
Trúagh! do Rí rátha nimhe,
Fa tteacht dúinn ó'r n dáoirsine,
An tath Mhaoise nar fheagh ruinn,
Tréud in chath-chráoisi Criomhthuinn.
A THRINOID, 'g a tta an chumhacht
An mbia an dream-sa choidhche air
dcóruigheacht?

Ní as sia ó chathair lios Chuinn,
N an mbia an tath oibhneas againn?
Nó an ttiucfaidh asteach a r'thairngir
Do Shluagh danair ndúraingidh,
Naemh fíréanghlan, Fáidh o CCuinn
An Primhearlamh cáidh Columb!

Ma thug an déonúghadh dhi,
Sacsa núa d'ar' b'ainim Eire,

Bheith re a linn-si a laimh bhiodhbhadh;
Do'n Insi is cair ceileabhradh!

Muna ccuirid doigh a ndía,
Siol Eimhir Sguit o'n Sgitia,
A cclár foirne 'g a ttaim dho,
Ni clár doíghreda díarmho.

Mo thruaighe, mìle úair.
N. B. It is requested that some of our
readers will give a translation of this ele-
gant Irish Poem,

FOR

MR, Cox,

FOR THE IRISH MAGAZINE.

Sir-I am very SORRY to inform you, the gentleman, whom you mention in your last Months Magazine, Page 416, to have "RENOUNCED THE ERRORS OF CROPPYISM, AND EMBRACED THE CAT-O'-NINE-TALES POLITICKS," is no more.-The following EULOGIUM was written extempore by a School-boy on hearing of his death, which I hope you will have no objection to inserting. PHILIERNES.

When Pluto discover'd Fitz flog was no

more,

He shut up his windows, and bolted his door;

And cry d, if this Cut-back shall ere get in here,

I fear for my flock, for my bacon I fear :

NOTICE TO THE PEOPLE OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA.

John Galland Engraver, who was capi tally convicted by a Jury of the Citizens of Philadelphia in the year 1798, for forging Notes on the Bank of Pennsylvania, and whose punishment was remitted after a solitary imprisonment of two years, on condition of removing himself for ever from the States. About the beginning of last month, this fellow embarked at Dublin in an American vessel for New York, to renew his depredations on the paper currency of America. He is about forty six years of age, about five feet seven inches high, ill looking, and slovenly in his dress.

OBITUARY.

At his Lodgings on the Parade, Cork, on Sunday morning last, after a short illness, the notorious Sir Thomas Judkin Fitzgerald, Bart. of Lisheen, in the County Tipperary, and High Sheriff of that County in the awful time of the Rebellion. The history of his life and his loyalty is written in legible characters on the backs of his countrymen, his enormities were so various, and the fertility of his imagination in devising new modes of desolation and torture were so truly origi nal, that expresses and relays of horses, were every day employed to give the earliest intelligence of their effect through the country, for the instruction of other gentlemen, who had the management of Whipping Districts.

Sir Thomas's labours did not go unre warded, he was honoured with a title, and the King at Arms had orders to register his great virtues, in his book of illustrious nick names,

In Granard Hugh Ker, Esq. by a pistol shot. As the accident happened when Mr. Ker was alone, it is supposed his death was voluntary. Mr. Ker was a decided loyal man, and in 1798, co-operated with the walking gallows, and Sir Jud. Fitz - in the rigorous measures for which those

Yours,

But when he arrived without bringing his cat,

Huzza, cried old Pluto, I'll give tit for tat!

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In Naples, the Rev. Doctor Concannon, he resided more than forty years at Rome, as agent for the Irish Catholic Clergy, and was one of the six consulting Divines to the College of Cardinals; he was lately consecrated Bishop of New York, and was on his way to his See when he was attacked with the illness which caused his death.

In Abbey-street, Mrs. Hope, wife of Mr. Gerald Hope, Dyer.

At Skerries in the County of Dublin, Mr, Jn. Mulholland of that town, a man much

respected and esteemed, he was a harmless, upright, honest man.

TO CORRESPONDENTS. As the First Vol. of the Irish Magazine hos been a long time out of print, and a very nu, merous part of our readers are anxious to have it reprinted, we propose to have it done by subscription, at 17s. 4d. each Volume bound, as soon as a competent number to defray the er pense have subscribed.

In our November Magazine, we will give (as a frontispiece,) a Carricature drawing of those celebrated disturbers of public quiet, Cox. CATSPAW AND HIS EMPLOYER, with their Memoirs as we have engaged an eminent Artist to engrave the plate for this print, it will be found well worthy the attention of the curious.

Mr. Rochford's mathematical favor, we are obliged to omit, as it is usual for any Corres pondent, who sends a Solution or Question to pay the expence of engraving the figures annexed.

In our next, we will give a Translation of the Charter of Kilkenny, from the Latin Original.

The Catholic plot, a Farce and the Letter of Jack Squib, were not in time for this monthl publication, but shall appear in our next.

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IRISH MAGAZINE,

OR

Monthly Asylum

FOR

NEGLECTED BIOGRAPHY,

FOR NOVEMBER, 1810.

With this Month's Publication we give a Superb Engraving of the
Young EMPRESS of FRANCE.

County Meath Meeting, October 19, Lord, has a particular perception of vi

1810.

LORD FINGAL,

AND THE

WELLESLEYS.

AT the Meeting at Trim, every thing relating to public affairs was very handfomely handled, except the trifling af fair of the Unior, and the wretched condition of the ftarving and houfelefs peafantry. Lord Fingal, like a lord, paffed over thofe two irritating fubjects, to take a view of Portugal, and befpat ter the conquering houfe of Talavera, with a diffufe balderdash of approbation. His Lordship forgetting the condition of his own fhivering tenantry, left it should infpire them with a treatonable notion of eating, talked highly of the military fkill of my Lord of Duoro, for the eminent manner he defended himself in the

inacceffible mountains of Portugal, against a fmall divifion of the French army; but not a word of the retreats his noble friend effects after every victory! Perhaps Lord Fingal, who is a Catholic November, 1810.

fion, not familiar to vulgar eyes, for he feems to fee very different from us, whọ are of the fwinifh multitude. He esteems the houfe of Wellesley for its liberal and manly character, for its military fame, its tolerant principles and patriotic virtues. As for our part, though we are not Lords or Ladies, we presume to fay, we have as much judgment of the affair, as any Lord in Meath, or any Attorney in Meath, or any Canal Con tractor in Meath; and we dare to say, that any principle which gave existence to fuch mean adulation, as Lord Fingal fhook from his lips at the meeting, is erroneous and abfurd, as no fuch thing as military fkill has ever marked the character of any of the family, except Lord Fingal alludes to the victories the Wellefleys have gained over the ti rid, divided and unarmed inhabitants of India

the fubverfion of the throne of Tippo, the plunder of his capital, and the captivity of his children! If Lord Fingal would fet off the reputation of the great Welle fleys, let him look to other quarters

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