TO "MARTIN ROSS."

(_AFTER READING "IRISH MEMORIES."_)

Two Irish cousins greet us here

From BUSHE "the silver-tongued" descended,

Whose lives for close on thirty year

Were indistinguishably blended;

Scorning the rule that holds for cooks,

They pooled their brains and joined their forces,

And wrote a dozen gorgeous books

On men and women, hounds and horses.

They superseded _Handley Cross_;

They glorified the "hunting fever;"

They purged their pages of the dross,

While bettering the fun, of LEVER;

With many a priceless turn of phrase

They stirred us to Homeric laughter,

When painting Ireland in the days

Before Sinn Fein bewitched and "strafed" her.

With them we watched good _Major Yeates_

Contending with litigious peasants,

With "hidden hands" within his gates,

With claims for foxes and for pheasants;

We saw _Leigh Kelway_ drop his chin--

That precious English super-tripper--

In shocked amazement drinking in

The lurid narrative of _Slipper_.

_Philippa's_ piercing peacock squeals,

Uttered in moments of expansion;

The grime and splendour of the meals

Of _Mrs. Knox_ and of her mansion;

The secrets of horse-coping lore,

The loves of _Sally_ and of _Flurry_--

All these delights and hundreds more

Are not forgotten in a hurry.

Yet the same genial pens that freight

Our memories with joyous magic

Gave us the tale of _Francie's_ fate--

So vulgar, lovable and tragic;

Just to the land that gave them birth

They showed her smiling, sad and sullen,

And turning from the paths of mirth

Probed the dark soul of _Charlotte Mullen_.

Alas! the tie, so close, so dear,

Two years ago death rent asunder;

Hushed is the voice so gay and clear

Which moved us once to joy and wonder;

Yet, though they chronicle a loss

Whose pang no lapse of time assuages,

The spirit of brave "MARTIN ROSS"

Shines like a star throughout these pages.

Here in her letters may one trace

The generous scorn, the gentle pity,

The easy unaffected grace,

The wisdom that was always witty;

Here, mirrored in a sister soul,

One sees the comrade, strong yet tender,

Who marched unfaltering to her goal

Through sacrifice and self-surrender.

* * * * *

Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 153, December 19, 1917 · 第 19 / 43 题