O'Hara of Besmond, (Resumed from page 96.) "HEAR me then O'Hara, while I remind you that at our first meeting you saved my life, risking your own in my defence, when attacked by robbers, you bore me, bleeding, to your cot, and cherished me; whilst Ellen dressed my wounds. My last visit was the natural effect of gratitude: my present one, at your own desire; and you have done all that hospitality could accomplish to entertain me. Say, then, if Roderic must henceforth count himself a stranger at O'Hara's hearth; or if I may obtain your friendship, even though I possess it not?" "Young man" replied O'Hara, "why thus torture me?" He appeared as tho' about to relapse into his former state of emotion, when Ellen, throwing her arms about his neck, exclaimed "mistake not, my dearest father, the intention of our guest: can you,' she added soothingly, "can you think that Roderic, who knows not our sorrows, would renew them?" The features of O'Hara relaxed into their wonted pensiveness of expression. "Roderic" said he, energetically, "be my friend ever! Nay, interrupt me not, but listen. As I gazed upon you dancing with my Ellen---Oh! it brought to mind the happy days when I for I have been happy."--- Overcome by his feelings, he yet motioned his hearers to be silent, dashed a heart-scalding tear from his cheek, and forced himself to proceed. I am not what I seem, Roderic, altho' to you bred up in humble life, I seem not what I am. My race is noble, and in these veins flow Ireland's proudest blood; although no pride, save in my griefs alone, remains with me. I for my sovereign fought in happier days, till the accursed usurper Cromwell, and his plunderers came---my wealth they seized on---levelled the lordly fane, my sires had erected, to the earth---yet, even this unmanned me not, for then I had a wife and three dear pledges of our love---but mark---! Fell anarchy had cursed our land, when brothers fought as foes: some of my house, had slain three fierce Tyrones in battle, and oh the hell-hounds; in revenge their friends slaughtered my wife, and two brave boys who died in her defence!" He paused as struggling with his feelings---convulsive sobs choked his utterance, until at length passing his hand across his eyes; "I am now calm," said he--- "hear the conclusion of my sad story. My Ellen's nurse had taken the dear infant to her own family; while I was with a loyal chief, disguised. At night I came as usual to my now humble home, I saw it blaze! and rushed to save its inmates---I heard my shrieking wife call on my name to save her---but I was seized upon by fiends in human shape, who held me while I saw--Oh God! my wife engulphed in flame, still shrieking for my aid! I braved---I implored my torturers to end my sufferings, and they smiled upon me, while my adored wife and our youngest son, clasped in each others arms, were ashes, both! My boys fought bravely, while my tormentors took a pride in telling me that they had stabbed---aye Roderic--my angel wife, ere they had fired our cot! I sank beneath the weight of my distractions, when the furies pierced me with their dirks, and left me, as they fancied, dead." O'Hara had exhausted his whole strength of nerve, in the recital of his sufferings, his respiration became thick and irregular, he staggered and sank upon a bench at the cottage door. Ellen hastened to the assistance of her father, while Roderic, fixed and motionless, seemed riveted to the ground. O'Hara ever sensible to the tender solicitude of his daughter, strove to regain his composure: he pronounced the name of Roderic, and held out his hand towards him; but Roderic spoke not, and as he essayed to take the extended hand of friendship, his own involuntarily touched the haft of his dagger. "Roderic," said O'Hara, "give me your hand; if but the bare recital of my woes can thus move you, think what I must have felt and ever feel who have endured them." This appeal acted upon the bewildered faculties of Roderic, as an electric charm, and reached his inmost sense. "Think what must you feel," replied he in an impassioned tone---, yes, I can imagine your feelings; but what think you must be mine while I tell you---" the full blue eyes of Ellen, were turned from her parent and met his own; his voice dropped, as he faulteringly continued; "what, I say O'Hara, will you think, when I tell you, that you have cherished a viper at your hearth, who, under other circumstances had stung you to death; this peasant's garb was adopted but for an ill object---, I am a Tyrone." Roderic and O'Hara, gazed on each other in silent earnestness: the individual animosities of both, were the effect of prejudice, rather than principle; and both had suffered in the loss of those most dear to them. With eyes fixed; a painful succession of thoughts, was passing over the mind of each, as Ellen like a mediating angel, imploringly asked, 2 c σε Why should two kind hearts be enemies to each other, because the names of those who wear them differ? my father, Roderic," she added soothingly, "although his wrongs lie deep within his heart, left with his noble name all enmity towards the innocent, for whom he as a christian prays, though of your kinsmen." "Beauteous Ellen," answered Roderic "I have no name---no kindred but O'Hara's: if he will call me son, I here renounce all other ties, to live and die with him and his." "Draw near me," said O'Hara, "I know you love my daughter, I see she loves you; take a humbler name, and she is yours: let us teach our misguided houses, that by cherishing each others virtues, a murderous hatred, may be banished by kindly affections. Roderic briefly ran over his life's history; stated that from his earliest infancy, he had been wrought upon by vicious prejudices, but against which, his better sense was ever ready to contend. "when" said he, "you avowed your hapless story, I well knew who you were; and among the conflicting thoughts that agitated me, was your courage and generosity to myself; such acts I felt, could never emanate from treachery and baseness. How different your conduct O'Hara, to his who had laboured incessantly to implant in my bosom, eternal hate to all who owned your blood; the bigot craven who fled on the approach of danger, and left his lord in the assassins' power: yet at his instigation, I was seeking the the life of a Desmond, when you saved my own." Roderic and Ellen, were as happy as love and kindness of heart could make them. He took the name of O'Hara also, resolved that nothing should ever induce him to change his resolution; and O'Hara himself, felt as happy as he could feel, in the intended union of his daughter, with a man whom he felt conscious was deserving of her love. The sun had now sunk below the horizon; O'Hara rose from the bench, and was followed by Roderic and Ellen into the cottage. her son, ever uneasy like a restless fiend. She frequently begged her subsistance, and as often extorted it from the superstitious peasantry, by her terrific denunciations. She had for many years wandered about the neighbourhood of O'Hara's former residence, and when he came to the county of Kilkenny, she still hovered within two or three miles of his home. Destruction was her object, and she was content that years should roll on, so that at the last she might enjoy it in all its demoniacal malignancy. With one being alone did she hold communication; one who indeed, filled a widely different station, yet owned kindred to her own passions---who with as strong a propensity to revenge yet (vices unfelt by Norah) added insatiable avarice, and the most consummate hypocrisy, to his catalogue of crimes. Such was the Rev. Father Doyle, whose habitually unctuous language, rarely failed to persuade; and who, while he was believed to be a saint; was treacherous and implacable. In the dead of night, Norah arrived at a lonely hovel, where through an upper window, (composed of one single pane of glass) a small lamp was seen to burn dimly. It was here the peasantry believed the "holy man" as they expressed it, "when he brought luck to their parish," retired to pray; but it was always far different motives to prayer, that brought Doyle into the neighbourhood of Norah, with whom his interviews were ever secret. As she entered the cabin, she saw the Father pacing its dimensions, (although scarcely three yards square) with much apparent agitation of mind. "What is your news, woman? he enquired hastily, as she closed the door. "Bad enough, Father," was her reply; "there has been nothing done, though enough has been said to make them satisfied with each other." "How?" said Doyle, "do you mean to say that peace exists between a Desmond and a Tyrone?” She told him what she had seen, although she could not unnoticed get near enough to hear their discourse; then added, "I hope you are sure of young O'Hara?" "Yes, yes," said Doyle, "from the day you brought him to me, up to the present hour, he has been well instructed, and his hatred is as fixed to all Tyrones, as ours is to both. I would have had Roderic provided for by other means, to have made all sure; but as it is, meet me as agreed tomorrow night; take this for your immediate wants," said he offering her a few pieces of silver, which she refused. "I toil but for revenge," replied the hag, "fifteen years of misery have I endured, but to feast upon the despair of those I hate: had I been you, I would not have trusted Tyrone's fate, to the hands of strangers, but would with my own dagger have sealed it for ever." She departed, and Doyle felt himself humbled in her reproach though he knew she meant it not. "Had I the nerve of that old wretch," said he mentally, "my own weapon should have executed my will---but O'Hara's son---(a malignant smile played around his mouth as he spoke,) aye, he shall settle my debt of obligation with his father, for rescuing Tyrone." He put out the flickering lamp, and untying his horse, he led him from a shed behind the cabin, to the high road; then mounting, he soon arrived where resided his "dearest friend" as he styled him, the only surviving son, of the grief-worn O'Hara. "Welcome father," said the young man, as Doyle with an habitual softness of feature, entered the apartment. Say, is the world yet relieved of the leaders of that accursed race, which---" "Patience my son, all in good time," answered Doyle, "I have seen your kind preserver, who has informed me that ---” “what, father! lives there yet a heir to the treacherous house of Tyrone?" interrupted ynung O'Hara. Doyle always knew to whom he addressed himself, and replied accordingly. He now affected to take umbrage at the impetuosity, it had long been his study to encourage: "Sir," he replied with an assumed warmth of feeling; "is it thus you repay my anxious cares by your imprudence? nay, Ullin, be not cast down my son, I am not angry with you; the Tyrones shall bleed---they are traitors to humanity, and you must be the instrument of retribution; it was they who coldly butchered your gallant father, after they had slaughtered" "Father! Father!" exclaimed Ullin, "can you deem me intemperate in a cause like mine? you know how deeply your instructions are engraven in my heart; but often when abroad, even in my dreams, I have seen the blood spilling Tyrones, fall beneath my sword; whilst I plainly heard the voice of justice cry' strike and spare not.' Doyle saw that he had effected his intended object, by exciting Ullin's passions to their highest bent, and by repeated allusion to his wrongs, he still kept them so, telling him, that at length the day of retribution had arrived, and led him forth, imparting his plans by the way. Doyle had grown grey in the service of sin: he had been reared and educated at the expence of the Desmonds, in which he seduced a young female domestic, and was disgraced. In revenge, he wrought his way into the Tyrone family, and was the chief cause of renewing an almost forgotten quarrel between the two houses. But although he was the family confessor, and tutor to the young heir of Tyrone, his situation was uncomfortable to him, inasmuch as he felt, that he was no favorite of the late baron, who was a proud and austere noble, and who always employed another priest in his confidential affairs of business. To the old Baron, therefore, Doyle, though he sought under the mask of hypocrisy to disguise it, owed a bitter hatred; while to the aged priest whose office he envied, he contrived to administer so strong a narcotic, that the good man never awoke after he had swallowed it. The young lord had ever been an object of his. dislike, since his innate principles of right and wrong, the sophistries of Doyle could not confound, altho' he tried his very uttermost to mould him to his own purposes. The priest felt his lord could not be deceived by specious plausibility, when opposed by facts, and he hated him. He suspected his master had discovered his hypocrisy, and lived in fear, and determined on the first opportunity, to send him after the priest. With the old Baroness he was a great favorite, and were but her son disposed of, he saw in perspective, his own undisputed sway, in the family of Tyrone. It was soon after he first became a member of it, that he confessed Norah; kindred propensities claim their affinity by whomsoever possessed; and as hatred and revenge, were the prominent passions of both, the priest soothed the hopes of Norah, whilst Norah became the confident and willing agent of the priest; and when the latter succoured Ullin, it was with the view of gratifying her malice, in beholding him again in the agonies of death, and adding to his tortures, by a recital of the murder of his friends; but Doyle's proposal of revenge superseded her own, and which met her ready approbation. Their enmity to Tyrone was mortal, (since the priest had fanned the flame of revenge towards Tyrone; in the bosom of his ally, until it blazed fiercely as his own;) but towards the Desmonds, they owed that bitter hatred, that they both, to glut their measure of vengeance, would have sacrificed their own lives. Doyle's proposition was, that he should send Ullin 2c2 to the continent, where he would have him educated under his own instructions, and if the youth proved flexible, that he should be made their instrument, in inflicting new miseries on his own family; but if he were head-strong he should be returned home, and sacrificed. This plan was agreed upon, and Ullin was committed to the care of an old companion of Doyle's; the latter keeping up a regular correspondence with him, as a decided enemy to the Tyrones. Years elapsed, but while O'Hara remained among his kindred, Doyle saw it would be impossible to obtain the gratification desired; and for nearly the last five years, he had been upon the continent with his lord. During his stay abroad, he took every possible opportunity of heightning the feelings of Ullin, whom he had always supplied with the means of support, and whom Doyle had so completely won to his views, that whilst he believed him to be his benefactor and a stanch and active friend, of the house of Desmond, in short, a protector set by providence to watch over his earthly actions, he would have thought it a crime to have disobeyed his slightest command. "This is the vale, Ullin, in which stands their accursed abode," said Doyle as they drew nigh the habitation of his companion's father, "but we must wait at this thicket, that Norah may witness the justice of your act." "I am here," softly muttered the old fury, "you could not have had a darker night---just such a night it was, when your own mother was burned with your brother in her own house." Ullin shuddered at the allusion, urged but to excite him: "I am ready, friends," he exclaimed eagerly"shew me the house?" "Follow me, Ullin," said the priest; "the night is indeed very dark after so fine a day; the house is near at hand and stands alone; Tyrones dwell there we can't mistake, but, above all, remember my dear Ullin, that Norah has heard the old man, boast of having destroyed your father's cottage." "Hasten, father, hasten," said Ullin, half choked by the bitterness of reflection, and burning to requite the wrongs of his family; "my pistols are cocked, and I feel that I can never rest until they have well performed their work." "This is the house, my son---now be steady," said Doyle, and turned round to leave him, when, his arm struck the pistol, as Ullin raised his right hand, the contents of which lodged in his breast, and he sank groaning upon the earth. The first words which caught the ear of Ullin, were conveyed in the fiend-like yell of Norah, who with malicious joy shrieked out, "cursed is the Desmond who has shot his father!" Ullin thought for the instant, the allusion was to the fatal mistake he had committed, and his other pistol dropped from his hand as he bent over the fallen priest. The report of the pistol, had alarmed the inmates of the neighbouring cottages, who supposed it to have proceeded, from some of those nightly marauders, with which it has ever been the fate of Ireland to be cursed. Among the first to arise, were the inmates of O'Hara's cottage; lights soon appeared almost in every hand, and discovered Ullin and Doyle. "What does this mean?" said O'Hara who had scarcely asked the question, when Ullin looking up, started upon his feet, and with the wildness of extacy, caught him round the neck scarcely able to articulate "Father! my Father!--The by-standers believed him mad, and would have released the father from his son's embrace, but O'Hara felt his heart beat responsively, to the affection of Ullin, and tears relieved them both. Ellen saw what was passing, at her chamber window, and hastened down to greet her brother; while Roderic had elicited some explanations of the wounded man, who, imploring mercy on his soul, expired. Several of the peasants hastened to the thicket and found "evil eyed Norah," where the dying priest had declared her to be: intent to share with him in the expected gratification of the horrors they had planned; the wretched creature at first supposed her hope had been realized, and defied them, but when she learned the facts; the rudest of the group who had seized her, was shocked with her blasphemous execrations. Enraged at her unearthly vindictiveness, they dragged her amidst half broken screams and curses, to a pool, and ere they could be prevented by more temperate influence, they threw her headlong in, with imprecations on her lips. Within a short period after the return of Ullin, O'Hara gave the hand of his daughter to Roderic; and Ullin himself, felt proud, in acknowledging as his brother, the lineal heir, of the house of Tyrone. W. R. MACDONALD. Stanzas. "The cheek may be tinged with a warm sunny smile, Tho, the cold heart to ruin, runs darkly the while." IRISH MELODIES. "Tis well, 'tis well, around the bowl To wear the sparkling eye; And let the sunshine of the soul Quench the foreboding sigh: "Tis well to revel with the gay But when the gay have flown Say, what remains of rapture's ray? "Tis fearful in the gloomy night To think of days of old, Of forms more bright than Saturn's light, And now alas more cold; Of those round whom your heart-strings twined Then, when those radiant forms declined, The world may mock my strain of grief Or seek in science for relief- Dissects its feathered shaft? What poisoned wretch did ever pause, To analyze the draught? A mind at ease, a heart at rest The midnight lamp may grace, But give the slave by grief oppressed The subtile poison of the bowl, Is fitting draught for those Who seek a solace for the soul— Oblivion to their woes. Fill up the glass-on withering flowers, Since memory only is our foe, Why cherish vain regret? to the blue frock, and the useless regulation sword of that period, in most instances, to a light and serviceable sabre; nor was the appearance of the men, less altered than that of their leaders: belts guiltless of pipe clay, and shoes of blacking; whilst the firelock, once the object of unceasing care and daily burnishings, was now simply and rarely wiped with an oil rag, and suffered to acquire that brown appearance, which has since the time of which I am speaking; been given by art, to the arms of the infantry. Tents, we had none; the brigade being sheltered by huts, principally formed of and in the orchards, that abound in that part of Spain. In the rear of the line of huts, ran a mountain streamlet, winding its devious course towards the ocean, which in happier times had diffused fertility around; now, its perturbed waters, and banks denuded of herbage, bore witness to the proximity of man. The almost proverbial kindness of military men to a novice, added to my having served a twelvemonth in a militia corps, soon rendered me au fait to the routine of duty, and almost immediately upon my arrival, I was domesticated in the same hut with the Captain and Lieutenant of the company to which I was attached. The Captain, a veteran of forty-five years of age, thirty of which, had been spent in the army; was a fine specimen of what an officer ought to be, and for the honor of the service I am proud to add, most frequently is. On the parade and in the detail of duty a strict disciplinarian, but in other respects, the patron, the father and the friend, of every deserving man in his company; entering into their wants, sharing in their privations, and granting them every indulgence in his power to bestow. The Lieutenant, a young devil-may-care sort of fellow, admirably adapted for his profession; with a spirit that made light of privation, and laughed at danger. With these gentlemen, I lived and messed; 'tis true our bed consisted only of gum caystus and myrtle, cut and strewed thickly on the ground, covered with a basket and a bear-skin. Our batterie de cuisine of a cap kettle and a tea kettle, the lid of the former, forming an excellent frying pan; and our crockery of four plates, a cracked dish, a turene, and three cups which served for coffee and wine Nor were our viands in greater variety, than our table-equipage our dinner consisting invariably of fresh beef, stewed, fried or broiled on the embers, and rice soup seasoned with tomatoes, garlick, and red pepper, washed down with very tolerable wine, |