James Bernard Dollard
Biography of James Bernard Dollard
James Bernard Dollard was a Canadian poet and priest.
Dollard was born at Mooncoin, County Kilkenny, Ireland, the youngest child of Anastasia Quinn and Michael Dollard. He studied Classics at Kilkenny College, and then sailed to Canada, where he studied for the priesthood, graduating from Laval University as a Bachelor of Theology and Bachelor of Canon Law. He was ordained to the priesthood in 1896, and served as a parish priest in Toronto and Uptergrove, Ontario.
He published his first collection of poetry, Irish Mist and Sunshine in 1906, and a second collection, Poems, in 1910.
The Globe (Toronto): "The poems of Father Dollard have long been appreciated for their high literary quality, spirituality and Celtic insight. To the scholarly touch of the classicist he adds the magic and vision of the true Celt. Born under the shadow of Slieve-na-mon, dreamful of mystical lore, Father Dollard was early inspired by the beauty and charm and tender melancholy of his native land. Though with a versatile pen he touches many themes, his supreme gift is that of an Irish lyrist."
Laval University made him an honorary Doctor of Letters in 1916.
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James Bernard Dollard Poems
The Passing Of The Sidhe
There is weeping on Cnoc-Aulin and on hoary Slieve-na-mon, There's a weary wind careering over haggard Knocknaree; By the broken mound of Almhin Sad as death the voices calling,
I look below B Niagara torrent white Is eager hurrying to the dread abyss; I hear its thunder as the waters hiss Over the awful brink, to plunge from sight
I'm sick o' New York City an' the roarin' o' the thrains That rowl above the blessèd roofs an' undernaith the dhrains; Wid dust an' smoke an' divilmint I'm moidhered head an' brains, An' I thinkin' o' the skies of ould Kilkinny!
Ballad Of The Banshee
Back thro' the hills I hurried home, Ever my boding soul would say: 'Mother and sister bid thee come, Long, too long has been thy stay.'
At Dead O' The Night, Alanna
At dead o' the night, alanna, I wake and see you there, Your little head on the pillow, with tossed and tangled hair; I am your mother, acushla, and you are my heart's own boy, And wealth o' the world I'd barter to shield you from annoy.
The Fairy Harpers
As I walked the heights of Meelin on a tranquil autumn day, The fairy host came stealing o'er the distant moorland gray. I heard like sweet bells ringing, Or a grove of linnets singing,
The Haunted Hazel
Adown a quiet glen where the gowan-berries glisten And the linnet, shyest bird of all, his wild note warbles free; Where the scented woodbine-blossoms, o'er the brooklet, bend to listen, There stands upon a mossy bank, a white-hazel tree.
Slain by the arrows of Apollo, lo, The well-belovèd of the Muses lies On Lemnos' Isle 'neath blue and classic skies, And hears th' Ægean waters ebb and flow!
The Fairy Harpers
As I walked the heights of Meelin on a tranquil autumn day,
The fairy host came stealing o'er the distant moorland gray.
I heard like sweet bells ringing,
Or a grove of linnets singing,
And the haunting, wailful music that the fairy harpers play!
Like thunder of deep waters when vast-heaving billows break,
Like soughing of the forest when ten thousand branches shake,
Like moaning of the wind,