hite house.' ... 'It is friendly, fair bright, companionable,
loving, brave, Charles will be, with sway, without a mist about him.'

And in one of Red Owen's 'Visions' he is told not to forget James, who
is 'persevering, well-tempered, affectionate, stout, sweet, kind,
poetical.'

Yet the Stuart seems to be always a faint and unreal image; a saint by
whose name a heavy oath is sworn. There are no personal touches such as
I find in a song taken down from some countryman, on Patrick Sarsfield,
the brave, handsome fighter, the descendant of Conall Cearnach, the man
who, after the Boyne, offered to 'change kings and fight the battle
again.' This ballad seems to have more of Connaught simplicity than of
Munster luxuriance in it:--

'O Patrick Sarsfield, health be to you, since you went to France
and your camps were loosened; making your sighs along with the
king, and you left poor Ireland and the Gael defeated--Och ochone!

'O Patrick Sarsfield, it is a man with God you are; and blessed is
the earth you ever walked on. The blessing of the bright sun and
the moon upon you, since you took the day from the hands of King
William--Och ochone!

'O Patrick Sarsfield, the prayer of every person with you; my own
prayer and the prayer of the Son of Mary with you, since you took
the narrow ford going through Biorra, and since at Cuilenn O'Cuanac
you won Limerick--Och ochone!

'I will go up on the mountain alone; and I will come hither from it
again. It is there I saw the camp of the Gael, the poor troop
thinned, not keeping with one another--Och ochone!

'My five hundred healths to you, halls of Limerick, and to the
beautiful troop was in our company; it is bonfires we used to have
and playing cards, and the word of God was often with us--Och
ochone!

'There were many soldiers glad and happy that were going the way
through seven weeks; but now they are stretched down in
Aughrim--Och ochone!

'They put the first breaking on us at the Bridge of the Boyne; the
second breaking on the Bridge of Slaney; the third breaking in
Aughrim of O'Kelly; and O sweet Ireland, my five hundred healths to
you--Och ochone!

'O'Kelly has manuring for his land, that is not sand or dung, but
ready soldiers doing bravery with pikes, that were left in Aughrim
stretched in ridges--Och ochone!

'Who is that