THE MINSTRELS OF ERIN

Air : The Harp of Tara.

Oh ! heaven ! thy pearly gates unfold, List to our suppliant pray’r | Our faithful Harp sings as of old When Erin's sky was fair Then bless the noble, gen’rous hoart, Whose charity we praise, And to his soul thy joys impart, Yes, clouiless be his days !

(1) Earnest is our song, soul inspired are our accents,

Minstrels of Erin, the measured tread of ages had lulled us to sleep in the arms of oblivion, when, lo ! on the gentle winds, came the echoés of joyous sounds. Before us Time arose , and , unrolling the records of history, his finger pointed to a date and we read : —

— 1t was the year 1847. From the heart of poor Ireland a long wail of anguish had issued, rending the air and echoing in mournful cadence on the banks of the St Lawrence. —Forced to quit their native country, the sons of Erin, with breaking hearts and streamiag eyes, pressed their lips to the hallowed soil of that Emerald Isle which, alas ! they were never more to see. Vet, amid their tears, words of hope are murmured, looks of confidence are raised to Heaven; they hope, yes , they hope to find in the New World , ‘the home of the free and the brave, ” a solace to their griefs and bread for their famishing children.

— The sails of the emigrant ship are unfurled, and, now lull ed, now tossed by the changins deep, the broad Atlantic is finally crossed. Hope has been their guiding star ; Faith has triumph éd over its enemies, and a hymn of praise to the God of their fathers rises from their mauly hearts as they see, rising before them, the friendly shores of America. But , alas!... a pestilential breath has been borne on the winds ; the Angel of Death has close-

(1) Personages :Miss M. J. Durkin, Miss B. Collier, Miss F. Wright. » J.Reddy, » M. Driscoll, ,, A. Durkin, » M.McCullen, ,, A.Baxter, ,, A. Kelly,

» E. Tealfe.

FE. lets

ly followed in their track and the Exiles of Erin reach a lone iale on the bosom of the St Lawrence , to find there but a grave |

— Oh ! Shades of the past, fall, fall o’er this heart-rending scene ! The moaus of the dying , the graves of the dead, would but damp the joy that pervades this assembly ….… then softly, softly veil the mouroful sight !

— À day of joy , a day of gladness has arisen. The cry of anguish is changed into the rapturous hyrmn of thanksgiving ; for a Spirit of Love, bearinz on his brow the diadem of Charity, has suddenly come forth. His hands distribute blessings, and from his lips fall words of comfort ; he has a help for every misfortune, a balm for every woe ; the orphan is no longer without protection : the fatherless have found a father.

—Hark ! listen to the voice of prayer ! Hear ye not the echoes still vibratinz with the endless cry of Irelaud’s gratitude ? The words areringing in my ears ..….... Heaven bless the noble stranger whose generous heart was touched with pity for the helpless Irish children !!

— Years have gone by, and, to-day , happy and free , the children of Erin group aroundtheir revered Benefactor. They have heard the Angel’s voice whisperinz : Arise, strike the golden chords of your long silent harps, and let gratitude pour forth its most thrilling strains.

— Then strike your harps boldly, ye gay troubadours; let the

strings once more quiver beneath the pressure oflove, and , blending your praises With the prayer of the orphan, let your voices with swelling accents ring. { They sing)