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The Sisters, Inisfail, and other Poems. By AUBREY DE VERE. London. Whatever Mr. De Vere writes is welcomed by a select audience. Not taking rank among the great masters of English poetry, he yet possesses a genuine poetic faculty which distinguishes him from "the small harpers with their glees" who counterfeit the true gift of Nature.

As two dark streams from high rocks meet and mix, and roar on the plain: loud, rough, and dark in battle meet Lochlin and Inisfail. . .As the troubled noise of the ocean when roll the waves on high; as the last peal of the thunder of heaven; such is noise of the battle."

In the period which followed the evangelization of the island many were the "women of worth" who upheld the honor and glory of "Inisfail the Fair", and women were neither the less numerous nor the less ardent who hung upon the lips of the Apostle of Ireland.

"'Inisfail' may be regarded as a sort of National Chronicle, cast in a form partly lyrical, partly narrative.... Its aim is to record the past alone, and that chiefly as its chances might have been sung by those old bards, who, consciously or unconsciously, uttered the voice which comes from a people's heart." In this attempt Mr. De Vere has had an uncommon measure of success.

Ride to M'Ilduy, Major Dalgetty, and tell him to charge as he loves Lochaber return and bring our handful of horse to my standard. They shall be placed with the Irish as a reserve." As meets a rock a thousand waves, so Inisfail met Lochlin.

In 1861 he began a series of poems on Irish subjects, Inisfail, The Infant Bridal, Irish Odes, etc.

Decent fellow Joe when he has it but sure like that he never has it. Jesus, I couldn't get over that bloody foxy Geraghty, the daylight robber. For trading without a licence, says he. In Inisfail the fair there lies a land, the land of holy Michan. There rises a watchtower beheld of men afar. There sleep the mighty dead as in life they slept, warriors and princes of high renown.