l of interest to watch the development of the culture of
the Anglo-Irish Pale, and the continuance of that of the Irish nation. In
Latin, their men of learning had long a common language, but the
vernacular was not neglected. In 1600 the literary organisation was still
strong, and its strength was shown in the great Bardic Contention.
Thirty-two years later an assemblage of historians, antiquaries, and monks
was held to collect and collate materials for the great Annals of the
Kingdom. Four years the Four Masters laboured at the work, safe by the far
shore of Donegall, and fortunate it was, for soon after there was no
safety in the "Athens of the West"--the "University of Europe"--for those
of its faithful offspring who loved learning and letters. Teacher and
pupil were banned. In the midst of morasses, forests, or mountain-glens,
they still studied, their bards still sang, and their minstrels played,
often with outposted sentinels on the watch.

What wonder if sadness shadowed the land? But disaster may have some
compensating gifts to noble natures. The true laurel when crushed yields
all its inner fragrance. Deprived of their princes and deposed from their
estate, the bards ceased to be learned in the classic forms of literary
technic; but they became poets of the people. The sincere voice of their
hearts spoke in their song, which is brimful of passionate feeling and
glowing with fair ideals. If in other times they had too often confined
their efforts to the eulogy of particular princes, now it was otherwise.
At the hearths of the people they sang the songs of a Nation.

Perhaps now the first idea of modern nationhood was conceived. Now, at all
events, pathos became a character of Irish literature, distinguishing it
deeply from that counterfeit of late grotesque, the authors of which
resemble those mutilators of men who carved the mockery of laughter upon
the face of grief.

What a subject for a painter would be that meeting between the blind and
hoary bard Carolan, and the young, bright-eyed child Oliver Goldsmith! The
venerable aspect of the ancient Celtic poet he never forgot. "His songs,"
he says, "in general may be compared to those of Pindar; they have
frequently the same flight of imagination." He had composed a concerto
"with such spirit and elegance that it may be compared (for we have it
still) with the finest compositions of Italy." This reminds us of the
time when an enemy, Giraldus Cambrensis, declared