given to this species of supernatural protection. All the Roman ladies wore amulets of various figures, forms, and materials, according to the rank and state which they occupied in society. 6 "The Irish chieftains," says Lady Morgan, in that truly elegant and national work, Patriotic Sketches,' "disposed by the ardour of their imagination to every illusion of Druidical superstition, held the influential potency of charms in religious estimation. The warrior, or knight, never entered the field of battle without his ring or amulet; and on the fair bosoms of the noblest dames, sparkled the consecrated talisman." A large amulet of gold, elegantly chased, and beaded with pearls, was found by the labourers of Mr. Falkner, in 1803, while Each digging a trench in his domain, at Castletown, in the county of Carlow. side of this antique exhibited a legendary motto, finely engraved, in Gothic letters of the tenth century. LITERARY AND BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES OF IRISH AUTHORS AND ARTISTS.-No. XII. Although JAMES ORR was a legitimate poet, in the literal sense of the term, in the fullest acceptation of the word, as defined in the Lexicon of Parnassus-although his inspired productions are imbued with feeling and passion,-lustrous with the spirit of fancy, flashes of thought, and felicity of style-yet no bard or historian, to our knowledge, has emblazoned his name on the shining banner of literary notoriety, or given it a niche in IRISH BIOGRAPHY. Let us, then, have the honour of quartering his forgotten merits with those of THOMAS DERMODY, on the argent of the IRISH SHIELD; let us rescue his genius from the darkness of oblivion, and tear off, with an indignant, but reverential hand, the moss and weeds that hide his tomb-stone in the cemetry of fame. In the brief extracts with which we shall intersperse this article, the reader will admire the glow of spirit, the fervour of feeling, and the flow of sentiment, that pervade them. If his diction cannot boast the beauty, or his versification the melody, of Dermody-still we must commend his daring flights of fancy, and the warmth of his passion ;--and while we watch the evanescent clouds of monotony fading away from his poetical skies, our patience will soon be relieved by an unexpected view of a vernal horizon, displaying all the brightness, variety, and waywardness, that tinge with mosaic tints the firmamental dome of smiling May. The life of a minor poet seldom presents any thing of the marvellous or the romantic-the chart of his voyage through life exhibits but few spots of attraction; it is but a tale that unfolds the common-place occurrences which connect the cradle with the grave. Biography should present a picture remarkable for its resemblance to the original, so that with a dramatic unity, beyond the grasp of history,we may recognize in this species of composition, as in the reflection of a mirror, a striking display of the form, feature, individuality, and idiocyncrasy of the hero. In history, the feats of warriors--the revolutions of empires, and the march of. events, impregnate its details with interest;-but in biography, the paramount VOL. I.-57. attraction arises from the manners and actions of the man, forms its leaven, and tends to attach us to him, with glowing pleasure, while it induces us to follow our hero through all the ramifications of his life; thus, in treading in his footsteps, amongst the mazes of his deeds, we cannot help so identifying ourselves with the subject, that, unless he be among the most worthless and corrupt of his species, we insensibly enter into all his views; delighting in his success, grieving for his disappointments, while we part with him at the last page, as with one to whom we had been actually bound through life by the ties of friendship and sympathy. It is with this feeling and spirit clinging to our sensibilities, that we shall endeavour to throw a deciduous garland on the grave of Orr, and offer our humble biographical tribute at the obscure shrine of that neglected MEMORY before which the superior genius of a M’HENRY, or a LAW, should have long since lit an inextinguishable torch of just eulogium, whose splendid radiance would encircle it in the halo of universal fame and popular admiration. But it is time to seize upon and grapple with our subject. James Orr was born in the parish of Broad-Island, in the county of Antrim, in the year 1770, of parents, who, if ranked in the middle grade of society, might be pronounced respectable. His father was a linen-bleacher; and the fruits of his industry enabled him to support his wife and his only child, the subject of our memoir, in the home-pleasing comforts of competence. He had also a small farm adjoining the little village of Ballycarry, which added to the means of his independent livelihood. In his youth he received a classical education, which, with a liberal share of natural talent, rendered him the Cincinnatus of the Island, to whom all his rustic neighbours looked up for information and instruction. He was brother to the noble minded and patriotic WILLIAM ORR, who was found guilty of being concerned in the Irish rebellion, by a drunken jury, at Carrickfergus, in 1797; and, to the eternal infamy of Lord Camden, then Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, immolated on one of the sanguinary scaffolds, which, in that disastrous period were daily deluged with the best of Irish blood. Never did death either at Thermopyla or Marathon-either on the wheel or rack of tyrannic vengeance, extinguish a purer or more devoted heart than that which glowed in the patriotic bosom of the martyred William Orr. If such noble and magnanimous spirits as ORR, TONE, SHEARS, and FITZGERALD, had directed the destinies, and governed the tempest of the premature and disorganized insurrection of 1798, instead of the vain, visionary, and violent demagogues, who, in an evil and luckless hour, were suffered to domineer over the fate of unhappy Ireland, then, indeed, freedom would certainly spring from such a propitious ascendency; for prudence would have given a preponderating power to patriotism, and glorious results of liberty would have saved the horrified eye of sickening humanity from contemplating the historic muse, recording the sanguinary deeds of an era, that must stand accursed in Erin's calendar, with an avenging pen dipped in the unexpiated blood of the slaughtered brave of Ireland. The illustrious Curran, and the talented MR. SAMPSON, of this city, were Orr's advocates on his memorable trial for high treason; but powerful eloquence, or all the force of forensic argument, could not avert his fate, or excite feelings of compassion, or justice, in the bronzed breasts of a jury who were set drunk, in order that they might at once commit the flagitious crimes of perjury and murder! But it is time we should return from this digression to our hero. James being an only child, fraternal, and maternal affection rivalled each other in pleasing and pampering his childish inclinations. The father, as we have already mentioned, being a good scholar, resolved to devote his best endeavours to the moral, social, and intellectual instruction of this dear object of his fondness, whose future eminence he looked to as to the goal of his hope. It, in consequence, became his pleasing task to cultivate the mental soil, so as to fit it for the reception of those seeds of virtue, religion, and intelligence, which never fail, in ground prepared by such a moral tillage, to produce a rich and luxuriant vintage of the benign blessings of a solid education. The boy, at the early age of six years, gave strong manifestations of precocious talent, and in every succeeding lesson gradually developed those germs of genius, that soon afterwards blossomed out into poetry and patriotism. The delighted father, as he fed the intellectual lamp, that was destined, ere long, to shine the Parnassian luminary of his lonely isle, felt those pleasing sensations that throb and thrill the parental heart, when the docile and dutiful child evinces capacity and apprehension;-as no reward can be so gratifying to the teacher, than the progressive improvement of the pupil; and no employment so pleasant or so useful, to the bosom of sensibility, as that of exciting emulation in the youthful mind. At seven years of age he could read a page in the Spectator, a fable in Dodsley, or the story of St. George and the Dragon in the "Seven Champions of Christendom." His ambition increased with his years, and stimulated, with a propelling impetus, the inherent energies of his mind. When he had attained his eleventh year, he could work all the questions in Voster's Arithmetic, and recite, with impassioned energy of mind, and grace of action, all Shakspeare's declamatory speeches. Shakspeare, Milton, and Goldsmith, were his favourite poets; and it is probable that their inspired effusions first touched and elicited his latent sparks of poesy, and smote his congenial mind with the glowing love of song. His passion for acquiring knowledge, was warmed into enthusiasm by the voice and approbation of parental encouragement; so that a mind like his, ardent, susceptible, and avariciously addicted to literature, made the most extensive acquisitions of useful information. In the sixteenth year of his age, his feelings received a severe pang by the death of his beloved parent and instructer. This melancholy bereavement cast a gloomy cloud of grief over his heart, and, for a time, laid the powers of his intellect prostrate at the feet of sorrow. His uncle, the romantic martyr of patriotism-the devoted WILLIAM ORR, prevailed upon him to spend some time at his residence, in order that the united consolation of himself, and his amiable and highly accomplished lady, might mitigate the agony of grief, and pluck from his pensive mind the rankling thorn of affliction. Mrs. Orr, a highly educated lady, was not more beautiful in her personal graces, than elegant and tasteful in her literary attainments, and all those attractive and ornamental amenities, that illuminate the sphere of society, and impart an engaging charm of female manners to the felicity of the domestic circle. The affecting letter,* written by this gifted *TO HER EXCELLENCY THE COUNTESS OF CAMDEN : Madam-Grief like mine needs no set phrases of apology-the sympathy that dwells in your Ladyship's mind will induce you to commiserate my sorrows, rather than criticise my solecisms. Despair and anguish are now my only companions-vet hope bids me look up to you for happiness: A miserable object-a mother and a fond wife -comes praying for mercy to the father of her children! It is the Countess of Camden can snatch that wife, and those children from the brink of despair-from the horrors of death! She holds in her hands the reins of our destiny!-Will her pity suffer us to perish in the abyss of ruin? Pardon, most gracious lady! the phrenzy of a distracted woman-and listen, I implore you, to the petition of the miserable and heart-broken wife of the unfortunate WILLIAM ORR! I come as a suppliant-a low and humble slave of anguish and distraction, praying your Ladyship's intercession on behalf of the life of my husband, whose existence is dearer to me than my own. You, as a woman, as a mother, and as a wife, with a heart susceptible to every refined and noble impression, with a sensibility alive to every touch of sympathy,-will prove yourself, in this instance, a seraph of mercy. Oh! hear my complaint--and grant one beam of hope to my dark and frantic imagination. You, my lady, are the only person who has it in her power to remove neverending woe from a wretched individual-to cheer the afflicted heart--to light a beacon in the wilderness of hope-and give comfort and consolation to her that was ready to perish! Suffer me to assure you that he is innocent of the alleged crime for which he is under sentence of death. O cruel sentence! that will, without your interference, tear me from my husband, and rob my five poor, little unoffending children of their fatherthe best and tenderest of fathers-the most affectionate of husbands-the kindest and dearest that ever lived! My little innocents join in solicitations for his life; their pure, and graceful lady, to the Countess of Camden, supplicating a pardon for her husband; in the incoherent elegance of its language in the romantic devotedness of conjugal affection which it conveys, in "thoughts that breathe and words that burn," would have done honour to the head and the heart of Lady Russell, or any other heroine who has consecrated her virtue to immortality, by the elevated nobleness of connubial piety. During the three years which our hero resided at his uncle's, the friendship and refined taste of this amiable lady, sweetened the acritude of his disposition, regulated his judgment, and polished and fretted down the rough marble of poetic rusticity, to the smooth rotundity of gentlemanly manners, and courteous affability. Under such a genial auspice, the muse of Orr flung away her russet robe, and assumed the Attic costume, while attuning the Irish harp to the strains of inspiration. His sonnets and his elegies were as yet only exhibited in the friendly circles at his uncle's table, where they were highly lauded; but our bard, feeling conscious that he could make a stand on a more extensive theatre, soon, to try his luck in the lottery of the muses, sent a sonnet, under an anonymous signature, to the Editor of, the then (1796) celebrated NORTHERN STAR, of Belfast, which was not only cheerfully inserted, but honoured with an editorial encomium. This elating compliment, from a man like the renowned Samuel Neilson, to whose censorship a Tone, a Lord Edward Fitzgerald, a Hamilton Rowan, the Doctors Macneven, Esmond, and Drennan,-as well as Arthur O'Connor, Napper Tandy, and the amiable and erudite William Sampson, Esq., bowed with deferential submission, completely plumed the hitherto unfledged pinions of our hero, and animated him with the lofty ambition of attempting a soaring flight to that atmosphere, where genius, like the Bird of Jove, loves to gaze upon the effulgence of the sun. He continued for some time to supply the Star with pieces of prose and poetry, that attracted general admiration and applause, and thus he exemplified, by another modern instance, how self-taught genius can emerge from the gloom of obscurity, triumph over the opposition of indigence, and, without a herald to announce, or a passport to insure reception, make his way to the temple of fame, and win the favour of the deity's smile, as he lays his offerings on her altar. His uncle, no doubt, instilled his patriotic principles into his mind, so that latterly his poetry was an emanation of that enthusiasm, which the love of freedom generally inspires in the juvenile mind. His poetical addresses to the deluded peasantry, who were seduced into the mad insurrection of those who designated themselves "UNITED IRISHMEN," had the tendency of inflaming many a sluggish mind with the mania of the national enthusiasm. We heard from good authority, that he held, in 1797, the office of Secretary to the Antrim Association, of which his uncle was President. It was at one of the festive celebrations of this association, that he sang the popular and truly patriotic song of the "Irishman," which he purposely composed for the occasion. fervent, grateful prayers, will rise as a memorial before the throne of God, and cast a blazoning ray on the page in the 'BOOK OF LIFE,' in which your mercy shall be recorded by some applauding angel. The lisping tongues of my poor children, shall be taught, with unceasing gratitude, to bless, adore, and enshrine in their hearts the noble and exalted character of the Countess of Camden; and her beloved name will be imprinted on their very souls, never to be effaced! Forgive my importunity! the life of my husband is in your hands--the life of the father of my children is at stake! Despair has almost made me mad! I call on you-in the name of the gentle mercy that warms thy bosomin the name of that pity which should ever find a refuge in the female heart,-I invoke thee-I beseech your Ladyship, to rescue my husband from death. Thy God will thank thee; humanity will record the beneficent deed in the imperishable register of virtue, and Ireland's history will immortalize the Countess of Camden, as the heroine of mercy, who preserved the existence of an Irish patriot! [This Letter had no effect. The supplication of an angel-the eloquence of an evangelist, could not, in the reign of terror and cruelty, have averted the fate of the magnanimous martyr, William Orr.-Edit.] This celebrated song, which breathes a tone of national feeling, that must find a loud echo in every Irish heart, was, after its publication in the "Star," attributed to Grattan, Curran, and Henry Flood, and even to General Washington! That the finger of supposition might have pointed to the three first personages, was natural; but we believe that the most adulatory eulogists of the illustrious Washington, never imputed to him the literary genius of a Cesar, or contended that, like Tyrtæus, his lyre was as effective as his sword, in gaining victories for his country. Let us give the American Liberator what he deserves-the fame of being as prudent as FABIUS, but refuse him credit for that which he never possessed, the sublime genius and epic heroism of the magnanimous NAPOLEON. However flattering this song may be to our national vanity, it is still a fair and correct portraiture of our national character-because every martial field records the bravery, every country, struggling for liberty, received the generous aid, every popular assembly was animated by the eloquence,-every confidence was sustained by the incorrupted honour,-and every beauty, prizing virtue and valour, has ever been desirous of captivating the heart of an IRISHMAN. TUNE Vive la. The savage loves his native shore, Though rude the soil and chill the air. Their Isle which nature formed so fair! His hand is rash, his heart is warm, He dearly earns his poor reward, If strange or poor for you he'll pay, And guide to where you safe may be ;- His inmost soul he will unlock, And if he should your secrets scan, By honour bound in wo or weal, Whate'er she bids he dares to do ;- Be where it ought, in danger's van ;— "Twill not be by an Irishman. ERIN, loved land! from age to age, Be thou more great, more fam'd and free! May plenty flow in every field; |