Do not, for Heaven's sake, bring down Coridon and Lindor
upon us.'
'Nay, if you cannot relish LA HOULETTE ET LE CHALUMEAU, have with you in
heroic strains.'
'Dear Fergus, you have certainly partaken of the inspiration of
Mac-Murrough's cup, rather than of mine.'
'I disclaim it, MA BELLE DEMOISELLE, although I protest it would be the
more congenial of the two. Which of your crackbrained Italian romancers
is it that says,
Io d'Elicona niente
Mi curo, in fe de Dio, che'il bere d'acque
(Bea chi ber ne vuol) sempre me spiacque!
[Good sooth, I reck not of your Helicon;
Drink water whoso will, in faith I will drink none.]
But if you prefer the Gaelic, Captain Waverley, here is little Cathleen
shall sing you Drimmindhu.--Come, Cathleen, ASTORE (i.e. my dear),
begin; no apologies to the CEANKINNE.'
Cathleen sang with much liveliness a little Gaelic song, the burlesque
elegy of a countryman on the loss of his cow, the comic tones of which,
though he did not understand the language, made Waverley laugh more
than once. [This ancient Gaelic ditty is still well known, both in the
Highlands and in Ireland. It was translated into English, and published,
if I mistake not, under the auspices of the facetious Tom D'Urfey, by
the title of 'Colley, my Cow.
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