tion of another influence, it is to be hoped that in future, agrarian outrage will be entirely prevented. One of the greatest and most beneficial effects which may be expected from the operation of the Incumbered Estates Act, will be, that of giving the people of Ireland an interest in the soil. The very fact of breaking into smaller portions the great landed properties of Ireland will do much; still more will be accomplished by the circumstance, that the new proprietors will be men freed from those multifarious difficulties and embarrassments which have crippled and contracted all the operations of the old ones. But the consummation above all to be desired is, that the new landowners will have sufficient foresight and discretion to adopt new principles in their relations with the people. Instead of letting their lands to middlemen and cottiers, they must, by liberal dealings, create a body of yeomanry tenants upon lease, with interest in all the improvements they may make; and with power of employing an adequate amount of labour in the soil. This is the measure, and almost the only measure, which will entirely put a stop to outrage, whether in Tipperary or elsewhere. Let all have their fair share of interest in the property of the land, and it is certain, that all will be interested in the preservation of order on the land. I augur, therefore, for the County of Tipperary, the highest moral and social benefits from the working of the Incumbered Estates Act. Of this great and important county a full fourth, I should say, must, sooner or later, come under the operation of the Act."

The more the social condition of Ireland is studied, the more evidences will be discovered of the onward progress of the country, and of the rapid rise likely soon to take place in the value of landed property. The estates at present in the market are necessarily selling at an undervalue. The owners are forced to sell, the purchasers must be tempted to buy. The consequence is, that land sells "twenty per cent. under prime cost." But this state of things must alter soon. Let us now consider, briefly, for our limited space is almost exhausted, the circumstances likely to affect the future value of land in this country. It is well known, that any great change is, invariably, accompanied by a panic, and that every panic is followed by a reaction. Sometimes the panic and reaction oscillate for a time; but, sooner or later, things find their own level. Thus, free trade and the potato failure created a panic in the supposed value of land: the panic is almost over, and land is already beginning to recover its former

market value. The heavy poor-rates have ceased, the idleness, and loss of self-dependence, superinduced by the Government works are vanishing, and land must steadily rise in value till it reaches a price almost equal to its former estimation. The railroads that traverse a great portion of this country will also add to the value of landed property. Seed, manure, implements, and a hundred other things, will be more easily brought to the farm from a distance; and stock, farming produce, even milk, will be exported with ease. The tendency of railroads is to enhance the value of things in remote districts. Independent of advantages arising directly from the opening of a new line of railroad, there are many other benefits that spring indirectly from the same source: habits of regularity are generated; a respect for machinery and the results of modern science created; a conviction of their own backwardness, coupled with a desire to advance, is implanted in the minds of the people; and thus, civilisation and improvement, which, otherwise, take much time in fashioning, are introduced into the district, indirectly, almost in the plenitude of force. With an improved condition of the people, an improved system of agriculture will become general. Cattle, for which there is so great a demand in England, will engage more of the farmer's attention, and take the place of corn, with which foreigners enter so much more easily into competition with us, and by this means the depreciation, produced by the free-trade measures, will be, to a great extent, counteracted. The increased cultivation of flax, for which the soil of this country appears so peculiarly adapted, and to the rising demand for which it would be difficult to assign a limit, will also tend to enhance the value of land. cesses lately discovered for the manufacture of peat into charcoal will have the effect of turning to profitable account the useless wastes and bogs that seem at present only incumbrances. The improvement in the surrounding estates will add to the value of those which the owners are fortunate enough to retain; and the cessation of agitation and agrarian outrages that must ensue from the change of proprietors-from the in

The pro

creased demand for labour, and the possession of land by Roman Catholic gentlemen-farmers will all be followed by the same result. It would be impossible, however, to arrive at a fair estimate of the present selling price of land in the market, without taking into account the fact, that an immense sum of money remains, for the present, in the Incumbered Estates Court, locked up and incapable of being applied to the purchase of land; or even of being lent out upon land in the nature of a mortgage. This is the more to be regretted, as all the money now lying in the court has been, upon some previous occasion, invested upon the security of land; and it is much more probable that a party who has been already connected with real property will lay out his money in its purchase, than a funded proprietor, or any other person who has never had any such dealings. When the distribution of the funds advances pari passu with the sale of property, and the large arrears, now lying in the court, are distributed, a considerable rise may be expected in the sums offered for the lots, from time to time submitted to public competition. And, on the other hand, if the sales advance more rapidly than the distribution of the purchase money, and if the amount locked up in court continues to increase, the value of landed property must be proportionably depreciated.

We have endeavoured to trace in the foregoing pages the insecure basis upon which Irish property rested, and the unsoundness of the entire social condition of the country, requiring only the advent of some fortuitous circumstance-like the failure of the potatoto dissolve society into its constituent elements, and lay the entire artificial fabric low. We have now seen the worst. For the future all must be improvement. Things are already beginning to mend; and once they commence, their progress must be rapid. Ireland at present holds out encouragement for the employment of capital, and the exercise of foresight and industry superior to that offered by any

foreign country, and by any of our own colonies. Yet we see hundreds of English farmers annually taking out their implements of husbandry and their capital to New Zealand or the Cape, not afraid of Kaflir or Hottentot, or the perils or inconvenience to which they must necessarily expose themselves in those remote lands. "Before you do so," we would say to them, "visit Ireland-visit Tipperary ere you go. We have no doubt but that when you become acquainted with the generous and hospitable people of this country, in whose very faults even may be traced the gleams of future glory,' you will put up your household gods among us --among a people of like passions with yourselves, governed by the same royal sceptre, and subservient to the same laws. By the rich you will be hailed as the pioneers of civilisation; by the poor, to whom you give employment, as benefactors and as friends. Again, we would say, visit even Tipperary ere you go!"

6

Turn where we will there is hope for the future. In our undrained marshes, in our unfenced fields, in our unreclaimed and uncultivated lands, there is hope. If capital and skill had already brought things to the highest state of cultivation and improvement then our state would be sad indeed. But when we know how large a return waits upon a small outlay of capital, and with how much facility our produce might be increased twofold or threefold, so as not only to feed and give constant employment to the entire population of the country, but even to call for more assistance, it is easy to see how rapidly unparalelled suffering may be succeeded by unexampled prosperity. And we feel well assured that as soon as the dark night of sorrow, which has hung over our country with such dreary portent, paralysing our exertions, and prostrating our energies, shall have passed away, we shall be found, like the fair valleys of the Nile, when the waters have subsided, clothed in richness, in fertility, and in verdure.

PORTUGUESE poetry is like a time-honoured Olive, that in its prime was rich in luxuriant leaves and fair fruit, but is now drooping in decay; its foliage thinned, and its fruits degenerated, and giving no sign of throwing up vigorous saplings from its root.

It is, however, sometimes pleasant to let memory recall the flourishing times of a good old tree in its declining age: thus a few reminiscences of the better days of the Lusitanian muse may not be unacceptable now in its decadence, and the specimens we offer through the medium of translation we may symbolise as leaves, preserving the form, and in some degree the colour, though not the freshness, of their original existence.

The literature of Portugal is not so full in all its departments as that of Spain; but it is more rich in lyric and pastoral poetry than its Castilian rival, and the Portuguese muse flourished before the Spanish existed. "Portuguese songs," says the editor of the "Lusitanian Parnassus," "are coeval with the language itself;" but the early versifiers are difficult to be understood, and are often unintelligible, even to natives of Portugal, at the present day.

But though King Diniz in the thirteenth century, and his son, King Alfonso IV., encouraged Portuguese poetry by their own examples, it was not till the fifteenth century that it approached the rapid and vigorous development in which it flourished under King Emanuel, surnamed " the Great," and "the Fortunate." Emanuel loved literature and science, and assiduously studied geography, navigation, and astronomy: that he was also a believer in judicial astrology is not surprising, considering his era. He particularly delighted in history, frequently causing the chronicles of his predecessors

to be read to his son, afterwards John III., for his instruction, and to himself for his recreation. He was reputed a good Latin scholar, and took pleasure in conversing with learned men at his table; and was anxious that the young nobility should be well educated. He wished to render his Court the most polished in Europe; and, therefore, endeavoured to compose it of men distinguished for cultivation and for honourable sentiments, and of women esteemed for their accomplishments and virtues.

This respectable Court was, however, in danger of becoming gloomy and austere under the auspices of the Queen (Mary of Arragon, second wife of Emanuel), for her Majesty appears, from the testimony of Damian de Goes, to have been a sombre devotee, who was rarely seen to smile, but was wholly absorbed in religious exercises and conventual observances; and whose recreations consisted only in needlework, in which she kept her ladies employed as well as herself, firmly believing a moment of idleness, or of mere recreation, to be sinful. Yet she was a woman of large and consistent benevolence, and unrelaxing alms deeds. She was sister of Katherine of Arragont (the unhappy first wife of our eighth Henry), who bore a strong resemblance to Mary in habits (though of more amiable temper), for Katherine wore the Franciscan dress under her robes, and followed monastic rules of prayer and fasting; and was a great adept at the needle, in the use of which she and her sisters had been strictly reared by their mother, the great Isabella of Castile, herself the most notable sempstress in Europe, who piqued herself on making all her royal husband's shirts, besides executing quantities of ecclesiastical embroideries, &c. Katherine and her

sister, Mary, had a singular coincidence (but only in one respect) in their matrimonial lot; both married their brothers-in-law. Katherine was the widow of Henry's elder brother, Arthur; and Mary, in wedding Emanuel, married the widower of her eldest sister, Isabella; but Emanuel was as respectable a husband as Henry was the reverse.

The triste example of the Portuguese Queen was counteracted by the cheerful inclinations of Emanuel, who loved music and dancing. He kept a band of chamber music to play to him while at table: and often, after he had retired to rest, he sent for his Moorish musicians to sing beside his bed, to the accompaniment of their national lutes and tambourines; and he frequently gave balls, and joined, himself and his family, in the dances. Queen Mary died in 1517, leaving many children, to whom she seems to have been a stern and cold mother. Her successor, Emanuel's third wife, Eleanor, sister of the Emperor Charles V., was of a much more genial disposition, and testified great affection for her step-children.

Amid this estimable and cheerful Court, was a man who became the most admired poet of his time; and is even still held in high consideration, Bernardim Ribeyro. In early life, Ribeyro had studied the law; and was subsequently appointed by the King to the office of gentleman of the chamber. The principal ornament of Emanuel's court was the Infanta Beatrix, the second daughter of his Queen Mary. Beatrix, born in 1504, was fifteen at the period of her father's remarriage; but her mind and manners were in advance of her age; she was accomplished, intellectual, high spirited, and extremely handsome; and Ribeyro, although a married man, had the weakness and the misfortune to become deeply enamoured of her; notwithstanding such insuperable barriers as her high rank and his marriage vows lay between them. Beatrix, besides his passion, became his genius, and his muse, at whose inspiration he poured forth verses that served at once to immortalise his name among his countrymen, and to solace and nourish his intense and unhappy love. But in his situation, it was of the utmost importance that the object of his audacious attachment should be sus

pected by none, save herself. Hence, in all his works, there is a studied obscurity and mystery, and a strain of enigmatical allusion, a great part of which remains hidden beneath an unlifted veil; and the rest would never have been intelligible, but for the light thrown upon it by those chroniclers who point to the Infanta as the idol of Ribeyro's worship. It does not appear that the poet's presumption was ever discovered by the King, who not only patronised him, but also did him the honour of causing his paternal Arms to be emblazoned on the walls of the Heraldic Chamber, added by Emanuel to the Palace of Cintra.

Ribeyro's poems are pastoral and lyric. He does not attain to sublimity; he is not rich in original or sparkling ideas; and is often diffuse, even to tediousness; but his verse is sweet and flowing. Though he is addicted to repetitions, and plays upon words, there is something pleasing in the antique quaintness of his conceits, and his effusions breathe a sincerity, an earnestness, and a tenderness that prove him to have written from the fulness of his heart: his was no imaginary passion of which he sang for mere effect; he loved truly (though not sanely), and he felt deeply and enduringly.

It is difficult to conjecture what degree of encouragement Ribeyro might have received from the young princess. In one of his eclogues he says that his beloved (concealed under the name of the shepherdess Catherine) had regarded him with favour, and that he had once reckoned confidently on her partiality, believing that he had deserved it, but that he had found himself in error. From the reputation for prudence and for pride which Beatrix maintained through life, we may naturally infer, that while she accepted Ribeyro's poems graciously, as literary productions worthy of her notice, she discreetly abstained from seeming to comprehend their personal application.

One of Ribeyro's cantigas, or songs, though it carefully conceals the name and rank of the lady to whom it is addressed, reveals too plainly his heart's preference of her over his wedded wife. Like all the old cantigas, it consists of a mote, or motto, i. e. a prefatory idea, which serves as a text for the "gloss" or paraphrase in the succeeding stanzas, called voltas, or variations. The

motto of the following cantiga is literally

"I am not married, lady,
For though I gave my hand,
I did not marry my heart."*

THE CANTIGA.

MOTTO.

"O lady! never be it said That nuptial bonds my fate enslave; For sooth to say, when was wed

My hand, but not my heart I gave."

VOLTAS.

"And to thy charms no wrong I've done,
For, lady, long before we met
I pledged my hand, an empty one;
That pledge I now in vain regret.
Yet still my heart, my eyes are free,
And loving bachelors for thee.

"That marriage valid is, they say, That free-will made, unforc'd, unbought; Then thus I tender to thy sway

Love, liberty, and soul, and thought. Blest since my hand I gave elsewhere, That still the heart's thy nobler share.

"When first I saw thee, lady mine, Though words my feelings dar'd not tell, I plac'd thee in my bosom's shrine,

And there for ever shalt thou dwell.
What if the hand another's be!
The heart has still been kept for thee.

"If I be wed it is to care,

For thy dear sake, my only love; Speak not of other ties-forbear,

While loyal to thy charms I prove. To live alone at thy command, So wills my heart that's in thy hand.

"In me no change has marriage made; It has not chill'd affection's glow, Nor hope of kind return forbade

Then scorn me not as wed, but know, That though I gave my hand alone, The loving heart is all thine own."

There is a melancholy softness in Portuguese verse which renders it peculiarly adapted for pastoral poetry; and of this advantage Ribeyro availed himself in his eclogues, which are distinguished, not only as being among the oldest specimens of the kind in Portugal, but as surpassing those of his contemporaries in Spain. In these pastorals, while he describes the scenes wherein he nursed his romantic love,

the banks of the Tagus and Mondego, and the neighbouring shores of the sea, he disguises under the garb of shepherds and shepherdesses the true characters of himself and his friends, and the lady of his affections, and makes allegorical allusions to the circumstances in which they stood. The following extract from Ribeyro's third eclogue will afford a specimen of the characteristic style of these poems, in which he loved to repeat, to return upon, and to "ring the changes" (so to speak), on particular words and ideas.

"Woe is me! Where shall I wend?

Knowing not (such cares control me),
What to do my griefs to end,
Have I one consoling friend?

Is there aught that can console me?

"Sad my song responsive glows

To thy music, plaintive river; Telling, as remembrance grows, All my last enduring woes,

Woes that last, enduring ever.

"Friends have fled-do sorrows flee?

Mine still cling; nought else remaining,
Mournful end they work for me,
Though themselves are doom'd to be

Never ending, never waning.

"Hope not good,' saith my despair,

One there is who hope denying, Wills thee nought but ill, howe'er Thou no thought save good dost bear To that heart so un-replying.

"Ah, my days in sorrow cast!

Ah, my days o'ercast with sorrow! Panting, longing, how ye've pass'd! › Languishing from joy, at last, Joyously a ray to borrow.

"Anxious days, ah, let me rest!

Must ye not grow sad to view me,
Thus by all my cares opprest!
Boding, too, with troubled breast,
More, still more, that shall pursue me."

The repetitions of words and phrases in these stanzas, remind us of some similar examples in the heroic Epistles of Ovid, a poet very likely to have been a favourite with Ribeyro; e.g:

"Anna Soror, Soror Anna, meæ malè conscia culpæ

Jam dabis in cineres ultima dona meos.” Epis. 7.