Francis S. Mahony (Father Prout)

The Groves of Blarney

The groves of Blarney,

They look so charming,

Down by the purlings

Of sweet silent brooks,

All decked by posies

That spontaneous grow there,

Planted in order

In the rocky nooks.

‘Tis there the daisy

and the sweet carnation,

The blooming pink,

And the rose so fair;

Likewise the lily,

And the daffodilly—

All flowers that scent

The sweet open air.

II.

‘Tis Lady Jeffers

Owns this plantation;

Like Alexander

Or like Helen fair,

There’s no commander

In all the nation

For regulation

Can with her compare.

Such walls surround her

That no nine-pounder

Could ever plunder

Her place of strength;

But Oliver Cromwell

Her he did pommel,

And made a breach

In her battlement.

Le Bois de Blarnaye

Charmans bocages!

Vous me ravissez,

Que d’advantages

Vous réunissez!

Rochers sauvages,

Paisibles ruisseaux,

Tendres ramges

De gentils oiseaux;

Dans ce doux parage

Aimable Nature

A fait étalage

D’éternelle verdure;

Et les fleurs, à mesure

Qu’elles croissent, à raison

De la belle saison

Font briller leur parure.

II.

C’est Madame de Jefferts,

Femme pleine d’addresse,

Qui sur ces beaux déserts

Règne en fière princesse.

Elle exerce ses droits

Come dame maitresse,

Dans cette forteresse

Que lá haut je vois.

Plus sage mille fois

Qu’ Hélenè ou Cléopatre,

La mettant aux abois,

Quand, allumant sa mêche,

Point ne tira au hasard,

Mais bien dans son rempart

Fit irréparable brèhe.

‘H ‘Ylh Blarnikh

Ths Blarnias ai ulai

Feristai, kallifullai,

Opou sigh reousi

Phgai yiqurixousai

‘Ekonta gennhqevta

‘Omws te futeuqenta

Messois en agkonessin

Est’ anqe’ petrodessin

Ekei est’ aglaihma

Gluku kai eruqhma

Iov t’ ekei qalon te

Basilikon rodov te

Kai leirtov te fuei,

Pant’ anqem’ a kalhsin

En eudiais ahsiv.

Tauths IEFEPESSA

Kalh kai cariessa

‘Ws ‘Elenh, és t’ ‘uios

Tou Ammonos ‘o dios,

Futeias est’ anassh

Iernh t’ en apash

Outis brotwn gevoito

‘Os auth sumferoito,

Oikovomeiv gar oide,

Toicoi tosoi toioide

Authn amfistefontai

Polemikh ‘ws bronth

Mathn nin ball’ ‘ws ‘hrws

Kromnellos Olifhros

Eperse, di ‘apasas

Akropolews perasas.

Blarneum Nemus

Quisquis hìc in lætis

Gaudes errare viretis,

Turrigeras rupes

Blarnea saxa stupes!

Murmure dum cæco

Lympharum perstrepit echo,

Quas veluti mutas

Ire per arva putas.

Multus in hoc luco

Rubet undique flos sine fuco,

Ac ibi formosam

Cernis ubique rosam;

Suaviter hi flores

Miscent ut amabis odores;

Nec requiem demus,

Nam placet omne nemus!

II.

Fœmina dux horum

Regnat Jeferessa locorum,

Pace, virago gravis,

Marteque pejor avis!

Africa non atram

Componeret ei Cleopatram,

Nec Dido constares!

Non habet illa pares.

Turre manens istâ

Nullâ est violanda balistâ:

Turris erat diris

Non penetranda viris;

Cromwellus latum

Tamen illìc fecit hiatum,

Et ludos heros

Lucit in arce feros!

I Boschi Di Blarnea

Di Blarne’ I boschi

Bel, benchè foschi,

In versi Toschi

Vorrei cantar—

Là dove meschi

Son fiori feschi

Ben pittoreschi

Pel passegiar.

Vi sono gogli

Bianch’ e vermigli

Ch’ ognum ne pigli

In libertà—

Anch’ odorose

Si coglian’ rose

D giovin’ spose

Fior di beltà!

II.

Miladi Gifra

Si gode quì frà

Immensa cifra

Di ricchi ben,

E tutti sanno

Se Carlomanno

E Cesare hanno

Più cor nel sen.

Il fier’ Cromwello

Si sa, fu quello

Ch’ a suo castello

Assalto diè,

Si dice però

Ch’ Oliviero

Al quartiero

La breccia fè!

Notes: Richard Millikin wrote the first eight lines of the “Groves of Blarney”, Mahony adding the remainder. In a remarkable tour de force he then translated the lines into Greek, Latin, French, Italian and Latin, in all of which he was fluent.

Millikin wrote his song as a spoof of the doggeral poem “Castlehyde”. The tune is adapted from the Irish tune “Slán cois Máighe”. Thomas Moore then took the melody and wrote “The Last Rose of Summer”.

P. W. Joyce in his "Old Irish Folk Music and songs" (1909), writes as follows:

"A collection of Irish Folk Songs would be incomplete without this celebrated composition (Castlehyde). The words have been published already more than once - but there is no need for me to copy from anyone inasmuch as I remember the song-every word - from my boyhood days, by hearing the people sing it; for it was a general favourite. The song is commonly regarded as a type of the absurd English songs composed by some of the Irish peasant bards who knew English only imperfectly; and it certainly contains several ludricous expressions. But passing by these, and looking at the song as a whole, it is well conceived and very spirited. The poet had a true conception of what a song should be, but had to express it imperfectly in what was to him a foreign language. Of all this every reader can judge for himself, as I give the song entire.

In burlesque imitation of this song, Mr. Richard Alfred Milliken (sic) of Cork composed his vile caricature, "The Groves of Blarney": and this song- working as a sort of microbe- gave origin to a number of imitations of the same general character: though none of them ever surpassed Milliken's piece of buffoonery. They did not in any sense represent the people - they represented nothing indeed but the depraved taste of the several writers. Songs of this class, however, though they once swarmed in the south of Ireland, have, I am glad to say, died out."

The tune was also used throughout Friedrich von Flotow’s opera “Martha”, and set to orchestral music by Beethoven and Mendelssohn. Mahony’s Italian translation becomes a favorite in Italy, being used as a marching song by Garibaldi’s army.