extant, composed in his native language, which prove him to have been a man of genius and a poet. Although it may be considered presumptuous to compare an unknown Irish Bard, with the celebrated English poet of Twickenham, yet the comparison might be hazarded without much apprehension for the result. In point of learning Mac Donnell was equal, and neither in genius, judgment, nor power of exquisite versification, was he inferior to Pope. If the latter had been an Irishman, and had written in the language of the country, it would be a matter of difficulty to determine, which would be entitled to the prize. But fortunately for his genius and his fame, Pope was born at the right side of the channel. Here, he would have been doomed, like our neglected Bard, to languish in obscurity, and perhaps never be heard of. That a translation of Homer into Irish was a bold undertaking, must be confessed, particularly when we consider the then political and literary state of the country. Such a work would have considerably enriched our national poetry, but the attempt proved, as might be expected, abortive; while the English poet happily succeeded, even beyond his most sanguine expectations. If any part of the Irish version could now be recovered, it would at once enable us to judge of the merits of the translators, and the powers of their respective languages. The following description of a hero, taken from one of the political poems of our Bard, beginning—“Eistigh lem’ glórthaibh a mhor-shlioct Mílesius,” is not inferior, in the original, to any passage of the Iliad.—
Ta Conn Dán mear mórdha, go torchathach, go treanmhar,
Go lionmhar, go lonnmhar, go leóghanmhar, lásfar,
Le teintibh, le tóirneach, le tórmach, le tréine,
Le saoítibh, le slóightibh, le ceoltaibh cátha.
