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Updated: May 20, 2025
And then he poured out O'Shaughnessy's passionate ode to the Dreamers of the world: We are the music-makers, And we are the dreamers of dreams, Wandering by lone sea-breakers, And sitting by desolate streams; World-losers and world-forsakers, On whom the pale moon gleams; Yet we are the movers and shakers Of the world forever, it seems.
I have related O'Shaughnessy's story here, rather from the memory I have of how we all laughed at it at the time, than from any feeling as to its real desert; but when I think of the voice, look, accent, and gesture of the narrator, I can scarcely keep myself from again giving way to laughter. Never did the morning break more beautifully than on the 12th of May, 1809.
"A son of ould Denis O'Shaughnessy's, God be merciful to his sowl!" "Denis O'Shaughnessy! Is it him they called the 'Pigeon-house? An' is it possible he's dead?" "He's dead, nabor, an' in throth, an honest man's dead!" "As ever broke the world's bread. The Lord make his bed in heaven this day! Hasn't he a son larnin' to be a priest in May-newth?" "Ah! Fahreer gairh! That's all over."
"I'd like to see them that 'ud turn it into a joke," said his father; "I would let them know that Dinis O'Shaughnessy's dog is neither to be made or meddled wid in a disrespectful manner, let alone his son.
Finnerty," observed the Bishop, "you seem to be intimately acquainted with O'Shaughnessy's circumstances; you appear to take a warm interest in the family, particularly in the success of his son." "Undoubtedly my lord; I am particularly anxious for his success." "You received my letter yesterday?" "I am here to-day, my lord, in consequence of having received it.
In Ireland, a very simple accession to their hopes or comforts produces an extraordinary elevation of mind, and so completely unlocks the sluices of their feelings, that every consideration is lost in the elation of the moment. At least it was so in Denis O'Shaughnessy's family upon this occasion.
In a short time they all separated themselves among their neighbors to communicate the agreeable tidings; and the latter, with an honest participation in their happiness, instantly laid aside their avocations, and flocked to Denis O'Shaughnessy's, that they might congratulate him and his friends upon what was considered the completion of their hopes.
Wasn't it yourself that threw me in the mud, or my nose was done for? Shaugh, Shaugh, my boy, since we are taken, tip them the blarney, and say we're generals of division!" I need not say with what a burst of laughter I received this very original declaration. "I ought to know that laugh," cried a voice I at once knew to be my friend O'Shaughnessy's.
"Well, then, as to the distance?" said Beaufort, loud enough to be heard by me where I was standing. O'Shaughnessy's reply I could not catch, but it was evident, from the tone of both parties, that some difference existed on the point. "Captain Baker shall decide between us," said Beaufort, at length, and they all walked away to some distance.
These reflections were interrupted by the sound of a voice near me, which I at once knew to be O'Shaughnessy's; he was on foot, and speaking evidently in some excitement. "I tell you, Maurice, some confounded blunder there must be; sure, he was left in the cottage near the bridge, and no one ever saw him after." "The French took it from the Rifles before we crossed the river. By Jove!
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