But see, where Norah with the sowins* comes
Then let us rise, and rest our weary bums.

THE GRAND QUESTION DEBATED:

WHETHER HAMILTON'S BAWN SHOULD BE TURNED INTO A BARRACK OR MALT-HOUSE. †

THUS spoke to my lady the knight † full of care,
"Let me have your advice in a weighty affair.
This Hamilton's bawn, § while it sticks in my hand,
I lose by the house what I get by the land;

* A sort of flummery.-F.

+ The author of the following poem wrote several other copies of verses of the like kind, by way of amusement, in the family of an honourable gentleman in the north of Ireland, where he spent a summer, about two or three years ago.

A certain very great person, * then in that kingdom, having heard much of this poem, obtained a copy from the gentleman, or, as some say, the lady in whose house it was written, from whence I know not by what accident several other copies were transcribed full of errors. As I have a great respect for the supposed author, I have procured a true copy of the poem, the publication whereof can do him less injury than printing any of those incorrect ones which run about in manuscript, and would infallibly be soon in the press, if not thus prevented. Some expressions being peculiar to Ireland, we have explained them, and put the several explanations in their proper places.-First ed.

Sir Arthur Acheson, at whose seat this was written.-F. § A large old house, two miles from Sir Arthur's seat.-F.

John, Lord Carteret, then lord-lieutenant of Ireland, since Earl of Granville, in right of his mother.-F.

But how to dispose of it to the best bidder,

*

For a barrack or malt-house, we now must con

sider.

"First, let me suppose I make it a malt-house,
Here I have computed the profit will fall t' us:
There's nine hundred pounds for labour and grain,
I increase it to twelve, so three hundred remain;
A handsome addition for wine and good cheer,
Three dishes a-day, and three hogsheads a-year;
With a dozen large vessels my vault shall be
stor❜d;

No little scrub joint shall come on my board;
And you and the Dean no more shall combine
To stint me at night to one bottle of wine;
Nor shall I, for his humour, permit you to purloin
A stone and a quarter of beef from my sir-loin.
If I make it a barrack, the crown is my tenant;
My dear, I have ponder'd again and again on't:
In poundage and drawbacks I lose half my rent,
Whatever they give me, I must be content,
Or join with the court in every debate;

And rather than that, I would lose my estate."
Thus ended the knight; thus began his meek
wife:

"It must, and it shall be a barrack, my life.
I'm grown a mere mopus; no company comes
But a rabble of tenants, and rusty dull rums. †
With parsons what lady can keep herself clean?
I'm all over daub'd when I sit by the Dean.

*The army in Ireland was lodged in strong buildings, called barracks, which have lately been introduced into this country likewise.-H.

A cant-word in Ireland for a poor country clergyman.-F.

But if you will give us a barrack, my dear,
The captain I'm sure will always come here;
I then shall not value his deanship a straw,
For the captain, I warrant will keep him in awe ;
Or, should he pretend to be brisk and alert,
Will tell him that chaplains should not be so pert;
That men of his coat should be minding their prayers,
And not among ladies to give themselves airs.'

Thus argued my lady, but argued in vain ; The knight his opinion resolv'd to maintain. But Hannah,* who listened to all that was past, And could not endure so vulgar a taste, As soon as her ladyship call'd to be drest, Cry'd, "Madam, why surely my master's possest. Sir Arthur the maltster! how fine it will sound! I'd rather the bawn were sunk under ground.

But, madam, I guess'd there would never come

good,

When I saw him so often with Darby and Wood. †
And now my dream's out; for I was a-dream'd
That I saw a huge rat-O dear, how I scream'd!
And after, methought I had lost my new shoes;
And Molly, she said, I should hear some ill news.
"Dear madam, had you but the spirit to teaze,
You might have a barrack whenever you please:
And, madam, I always believ'd you so stout,
That for twenty denials you would not give out.
If I had a husband like him, I purtest,

Till he gave me my will, I would give him no rest;

And, rather than come in the same pair of sheets With such a cross man, I would lie in the streets:

My lady's waiting-woman.-F.
+ Two of Sir Arthur's managers.-F.

But, madam, I beg you, contrive and invent,
And worry him out, till he gives his consent.
Dear madam, whene'er of a barrack I think,
An I were to be hang'd, I can't sleep a wink :
For if a new crotchet comes into my brain,
I can't get it out, though I'd never so fain.
I fancy already a barrack contriv'd

At Hamilton's bawn, and the troop is arriv'd;
Of this to be sure, Sir Arthur has warning,

And waits on the captain betimes the next morning. "Now see, when they meet how their honours behave;

'Noble captain, your servant'-Sir Arthur, your

slave; You honour me much'"Twas a sad rainy night'

The honour is mine.'

But the morning is fine.' Pray, how does my lady?' My wife's at your service.'

'I think I have seen her picture by Jervas.'Good-morrow, good captain.'-'I'll wait on you down.'

'You sha'nt stir a foot.'-You'll think me a clown.'

For all the world captain. Not half an inch farther.'

You must be obey'd! Your servant, Sir Arthur! My humble respects to my lady unknown.'— "I hope you will use my house as your own." "Go bring me my smock and leave off your prate, Thou hast certainly gotten a cup in thy pate. "Pray, madam, be quiet: what was it I said? You had like to have put it quite out of my head. Next day to be sure, the captain will come, At the head of his troops, with trumpet and drum. Now, madam, observe how he marches in state: The man with the kettle-drum enters the gate:

Dub, dub, adub, dub. The trumpeters follow.
Tantara, tantara; while all the boys holla.

See now comes the captain all daub'd with gold lace:

O la! the sweet gentleman! look in his face;

And see how he rides like a lord of the land,

With the fine flaming sword that he holds in his hand;

And his horse, the dear creter, it prances and rears; With ribbons in knots at its tail and its ears:

At last comes the troop, by word of command,
Drawn up in our court; when the captain cries,
STAND!

Your ladyship lifts up the sash to be seen,
For sure I had dizen'd you out like a queen.
The captain, to show he is proud of the favour,
Looks up to your window, and cocks up his beaver;
(His beaver is cock'd: pray, madam, mark that,
For a captain of horse never takes off his hat,
Because he has never a hand that is idle,

For the right holds the sword, and the left holds the bridle.)

Then flourishes thrice his sword in the air,
As a compliment due to a lady so fair;

(How I tremble to think of the blood it has spilt!) Then he lowers down the point, and kisses the hilt. Your ladyship smiles, and thus you begin:

Pray, captain, be pleas'd to alight and walk in.' The captain salutes you with congée profound, And your ladyship curtsies half-way to the ground. Kit, run to your master, and bid him come to us, I'm sure he'll be proud of the honour you do us, And, captain, you'll do us the favour to stay, And take a short dinner here with us to-day : You're heartily welcome; but as for good cheer, You come in the very worst time of the year;