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PREFACE. |
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when I was thus engaged; and I remember one day his starting up as from a reverie, when I had just finished playing that spirited tune called the Red Fox *, and exclaiming, " Oh that I were at the head of twenty thousand men, marching to that air!"
How little did I then think that in one of the most touching of the sweet airs I used to play to him, his own dying words would find an interpreter so worthy of their sad, but proud feeling f; or that another of those mournful strains J would long be associated, in the hearts of his countrymen, with the memory of her § who shared with Ireland his last blessing and prayer.
Though fully alive, of course, to the feelings which such music could not but inspire, I had not yet undertaken the task of adapting words to any of the airs; and it was, I am ashamed to say, in dull and turgid prose, that I made my first appearance in print as a champion of the popular cause. Towards the latter end of the year 1797, the celebrated newspaper called " The Press " was set up by Arthur O'Connor, Thomas Addis Emmett, and other chiefs of the United Irish conspiracy, with the view of preparing and ripening the public mind for the great crisis then fast approaching. This memorable journal, accord-, ing to the impression I at present retain of it, was far
• " Let Erin remember the days of old."
■f " Oh, breathe not his name."
f " She is far from the land where her young hero sleeps,"
g Miss Curran.
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