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 ^S^ 1653 East Main Street 
 
 g'.JS Rochester. New YorV 14609 USA 
 
 •-^ (716) 482 - 0300 - Pr^one 
 
 ^S ("6) 288 - 5989 - Fa, 
 
IRISH LYRICS AND BALLADS 
 
.SSITv' '•■■ _ 
 
Jtu^u^^ &>£U^ 
 
».'»j»r7?i r'T?«i,iix>ViT» ^jfc 
 
 'Viz^iJjv'.:^ . 
 
Irish Lyrics and "ballads 
 
 BY 
 
 Rev. JAMES B. DOLLARD 
 
 LiTT. D. 
 
 McClelland, goodchild y stewart, Ltd. 
 
 PUBLISHERS TORONTO 
 
'^■'1 1 .'} 
 
 69558 
 
 COPYRIGHT 
 
 I Q I 7 BY 
 
 P. J. KENEDY & SONS 
 
PREFACE 
 
 In this book of poems the Author's aim is to 
 represent in poetic form the three phases of imag- 
 inative experience that come to a man of dreamy 
 and sympathetic mind, Hving in Ireland. 
 
 There is an atmosphere of strange enchantment 
 at all times among the Irish glens and hills, par- 
 ticularly at evening or night-time, when a huge, 
 mystic moon gazes solemnly at one, from the sum- 
 mit of some historic mountain, through the broken 
 windows of an ancient tower! It is quite easy to 
 believe in the existence of the People of the Sidhe 
 
 — the Fairies — at such a moment, and the pre- 
 historic Raths, or Fairy Mounds, in whose depths 
 they still love to dwell, are pointed out on all 
 sides, crowned with their almost impervious thick- 
 ets of silver hazel and magic white-thorn! This 
 phase of his acquired knowledge is partially cov- 
 ered by the poems included under the heading 
 
 — *'The Horns of Elfland." 
 
 In the next place he will come to understand 
 and to love the charm of the Irish people them- 
 selves, and to feel the strange and intimate influ- 
 ence of the glens and mountains in which they 
 live. He will grow to appreciate the peasantry 
 and to share with them in their jovs and their 
 griefs. His attitude towards them is interpreted 
 
 [v] 
 
PREFACE 
 
 in the series of poems under the heading — "In 
 the Shadowy Glens." 
 
 Lastly, as he travels around the country, and 
 comes upon the places whose names are celebrated 
 in the weird, immemorial legends of the Red 
 Branch, the Cuchulain Saga, of Fin, and Ossian, 
 and Dhiarmuid of the Love Spot; when he visits 
 "purple SHeve-na-mon" and the hill of Allen, 
 Tailtea and Tara, Emania and Cashel of the Kings, 
 he will find his soul under the spell of ancient 
 Eire and of her godlike heroes the glory of whose 
 exploits has been handed down to us by the Bards 
 and Seanachies. Some of the knowledge which he 
 obtains from this legendary phase is placed under 
 the heading— "The Ancient Celtic Glamour." 
 
 The writer is well aware that many of the sub- 
 jects touched herein cannot be properly felt or 
 appreciated except by persons of Celtic blood, 
 with Celtic souls vibrant to the mysteries of the 
 spirit-world, and of that region which borders on 
 it, the home of the enchanted imagination. 
 
 But the Celtic blood is by this time so inter- 
 mingled with the other races that there is little 
 likelihood of these themes being unappreciated if 
 the author has been successful in his literary pres- 
 entation of them. 
 
 Toronto, Canada, Odober 8, 1917 
 
 [vi] 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 "THE HORNS OF ELF LAND" ^^^^ 
 
 The Silver Anvils 3 
 
 The Fairy Harpers 5 
 
 Ballad of the Banshee . . 7 
 
 The Passing of the Sidhe . . . 9 
 
 The Haunted Hazel n 
 
 Meelin Mountain 14 
 
 The Fairy Piper 16 
 
 At Dead o' the Night, Alanna . 18 
 
 By Light o' the Moon 20 
 
 Cnoc-Aulinn . . 22 
 
 IN THE SHADOfVr GLENS 
 
 Song of the Little Villages 25 
 
 Ballagh Gap ] ] 28 
 
 On Arran Shore ! ! ! ! 29 
 
 Riders to the Sea . . . 30 
 
 Ireland's Misty Hills . . . 31 
 
 Maurya Bawn 33 
 
 All Souls' Night 35 
 
 The Connaught Shore . . 37 
 
 The Tinkers . . . . 38 
 
 Ireland, March 17, 191 3 , 30 
 
 To William Butler Yeats . . 40 
 
 Emmet': Epitaph ' L 
 
 In Memoriam ! ! ! 43 
 
 The Exile's Return 45 
 
 Mother Love . . . 46 
 
 Eveleen Burke . . . . 47 
 
 Tipperary .Q 
 

 .i.se' 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 William Butler Yeats ci 
 
 Rathlin Island r2 
 
 MOONDHARRIG BY THE SuiR C3 
 
 Orange and Green c6 
 
 The Day OF THE "Little Peoples". . . . . . 58 
 
 THE ANCIENT CELTIC GLAMOUR 
 
 The Vikings g^ 
 
 Cnoc-an-ar 70 
 
 The Three Waves of Erin '. 72 
 
 The Hill of Allen 78 
 
 The Celtic Gods 80 
 
 When Conor in Emania Reigned 82 
 
 OssiANic 83 
 
 Thorstein the Brave 85 
 
 Prince Murrough at Clontarf 88 
 
 Ancient Irish War Song 90 
 
 Battle of Gabhra and Death of Osgar ... 91 
 
 The Death of Goll, the Son of Morna ... 96 
 
 OssiAN to St. Patrick 98 
 
 Creda's Lament for Cael 100 
 
 Cuchulain Coming to the Ford 102 
 
 OssiAN Laments for the Tir-na-n'og, the Land 
 
 OF Youth 103 
 
 The Death of Cuchulain 106 
 
 The Coming OF Lugh m 
 
 March of the Ultonians 120 
 
 SONNETS 
 
 The Ogham Pillar-Stone 125 
 
 The Hurler 126 
 
 Killarney 127 
 
 The Vikings 128 
 
 The Round Tower of Devenish Island . . . 129 
 
 Tara 130 
 
 Fingal's Cave 131 
 
 '" viii ~] 
 
"THE HORNS OF ELFLAND" 
 
 i 
 
 ^R^^^^^^ 
 
THE SILVER ANVILS 
 
 1 HERE was a rath T used to love, in Ireland 
 long ago, 
 
 An ancient dun in which they dwelt — the Fairy 
 l^olk, you know. 
 
 All belted round with hawthorn was this Rath of 
 t-Iosharink, 
 
 Ana one could hear, when straying near, their 
 silver anvils clink! 
 
 O, clink clank, clink - hear the fairy hammers go; 
 
 Uink, clank clink, m their caves of gold below! 
 
 What were they a-forging in the dun of Closharink 
 
 °clinkT ^"''"' tapping -clink, clank. 
 
 When all the thorn was blossomed white, and yel- 
 lov/ was the furze, 
 
 You'd hear them in the noonday hush when ne'er 
 a linnet stirs; 
 
 You'd hear them in the evening when the sun be- 
 gan to sink. 
 
 And purple glory flushed the hills that smiled on 
 i-'Ioshannk. 
 
 O, clink, clank, clink, hear the fairy hammers 
 sound — 
 
 Clink, clank, clink, in their forges underground; 
 
 [3] 
 
THE SILVER ANVILS 
 
 What were they a-patterning, the Sidhe of Clo- 
 
 sharink, 
 With all their silver anvils sounding — clink, 
 clank, clink? 
 
 What were they a-fashioning — a crown for great 
 
 Queen Mave; 
 A helmet for Cuchulain, or a shield for Lugh the 
 
 Brave; — 
 A scabbard for the Sword of Light that flames 
 
 on danger's brink, 
 A jeweled torque for Angus who is king at Clo- 
 
 sharink? 
 
 Clink, clank, clink, like a harp note, sweet and low. 
 Clink, clank, clink, and a big moon climbing slowl 
 Though youth is far from me to-night, and far is 
 
 Closharink, 
 My senses thrill to hear it still, that clink, clank, 
 
 cUnk! 
 
 [4] 
 
I 
 
 THE FAIRY HARPERS 
 
 As I walked the heights of Meehn 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, wail.ul 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. 
 When the night falls bleak and bhnd. 
 So wild and weird the melodies the fairy minstrels 
 make. 
 
 Th^ sunbeams fleck'd the valley, and the cloud- 
 shades ranged the hill. 
 
 The thistle-down scarce drifted in the air so calm 
 and still. 
 But along the slopes of Meelin, 
 Came the ghostly music pealing. 
 With sad and fitful cadences that set my soul 
 a-thrill! 
 
 Cs] 
 
THE FAIRY HARPERS 
 
 Then wan and wistful grew the sky o'er Meelin's 
 summit lone, 
 
 And weeping for the days gone by, my heart grew 
 cold as stone, 
 For I heard loved voices calling 
 Beyond the sunlight falling 
 On Meelin's mournful mountain where the magic 
 narps make moan! 
 
 C6] 
 
 :'ft«»-rti?*^'.!r^7.v*i ?r':.T 
 
 *'>T''6^'.^^-f:*!^i 
 
 '~mm'^mm^2 
 
BALLAD OF THE BANSHEE 
 
 Back thro' the hil's I humed home 
 
 u^,l^^ "^y ''°^'"g SO"' would say:-— 
 Mother and sister bid thee come. 
 Long, too long has been thy stay." 
 
 Stars shone out, but the moon was pale. 
 
 Touched by a black cloud's ragged rim, 
 budden I heard the Banshee's wail 
 
 Where Malmor's war-tower rises grim! 
 
 Qui^ckly I strode across the slope, 
 
 Passed the grjve and the Fairy Mound 
 
 (Uoom :he moat where blind owls mope) 
 scarcely breathing, I glanced around! 
 
 Mother of mercy! there she sat, 
 
 f A woman clad in a snow-white shroud, 
 
 u/l!"^"^ ^'r''^''" *° '^^ '^^"^P nioss-mat, 
 White the face on her bosom bowed! 
 
 "Spirit of Woe," I eager cried, 
 
 Tell me none that I love has gone, 
 II 'n''^ grave:" r.,y accents died - 
 Ihe Banshee lifted her face so wan. 
 
 Pale and wan as the waning moon, 
 Seen when the sun-spears herald dawn! 
 
 <^eased all sudden her drear>' croon 
 Full on my own her wild eves shone' 
 L72 
 
 I'xM. 
 
BALLAD OF THE BANSHEE 
 
 Burned and seared my inmost soul 
 (When shall sorrow depart from me?) 
 
 Black-winged terror upon me stole, 
 Blindly gaping, I turned to flee! 
 
 Back by the grove and haunted mound, 
 O'er the lone road I know not how, 
 
 Hearkened afar my baying hound 
 Home at last by the low hill's brow! 
 
 Lone the cottage — the door flung wide, 
 
 Four lights burned — oh, sight of dread! 
 Breathing a prayer, I rushed inside, 
 "Mercy, God!" 'twas my mother dead! 
 
 Dead and white as the fallen leaf, 
 (Kneeling, my sister pruyed near by), 
 
 Wild as I wrestled with my grief. 
 
 Far and faint came the Banshee's cry! 
 
 [S] 
 

 THE PASSING OF THE SIDHE 
 
 1 HERE is weeping on Cnoc-Aulin, and on hoary 
 
 Slievenamon, 
 There's a weary wind careering over haggard 
 Knock-naree, 
 By the broken Mound of Almhin 
 Sad as death ilie voices :aUing, 
 Calling ever, wailing ever, for the passing of the 
 Sidhe. 
 
 Where the hunting-call of Ossian waked the woods 
 of Glen-na-mar; 
 
 Where the Fianna's hoarse cheering silenced noisy 
 Assaroe; 
 Like the homing swallows meeting — 
 Like a beaten host retreating — 
 Hear them sobbing as they hurry from the hills 
 they used to know. 
 
 There's a haunted hazel standing on a grim and 
 g'oomy scaur, 
 
 Tossing ceaselessly its branches, like a keener o'er 
 the dead; 
 Deep around it press the masses 
 Of the Sluagh-Sidhe » that passes 
 To the moan of fairy-music timing well their 
 muffled tread. 
 
 ' Pronounced Slua Shee— the Fairy Army 
 
 C9] 
 
 i." I' 
 
THE PASSING OF THE SIDHE 
 
 Came a wail of mortal anguish o'er the night- 
 enshrouded sea, 
 Sudden death o'ertook the aged, while the infant 
 cried in fear, 
 And the dreamers on their pillows 
 Heard the beat of bursting billows. 
 And the rumble and the rhythm of an army 
 passing near! 
 
 They have left the unbelieving — past ?nd gone 
 
 their gentle sway. 
 Lonely now the rath enchanted, eerie glen, and 
 wild crannoge. 
 But the sad winds unforgetting 
 Call them back with poignant fretting, 
 Snatching songs of elfin sorrow from the streams of 
 Tir-na-n'ogl 
 
 [lo] 
 
THE HAUNTED HAZEL 
 
 ADOWN a quiet glen where the gowan-berries 
 
 gHsten 
 And the linnet, shyest bird of all, his wild note 
 
 warbles free; 
 Where the scented woodbine-blossoms, o'er the 
 
 brooklet, bend t listen. 
 There stands upon a mossy bank, a white-hazel 
 
 tree 
 
 Oh! fair it is to view, when the zephyr rustles 
 
 lightly. 
 And warm sunlight glances back from polished 
 
 bole and branch; 
 For then like wavelets on a rill the pendent leaves 
 
 flash brightly. 
 And daisies nod in concert, round the column 
 
 straight and staunch. 
 
 But when the day is ended, and the solemn moon 
 is shining; 
 
 And shadows grim and ghostly, fall on grove and 
 glen and lea, 
 
 Then god'-ss elves their fairy paths with glow- 
 worm lamps are lining. 
 
 And potent spells of magic bind this white-hazel 
 tree! 
 
 'I- 
 
 !5r-^ 
 
THE HAUNTED HAZEL 
 
 For from their gorgeous palaces the fairy bands 
 come stealing, 
 
 To dance in sportive circles on the never bending 
 moss; 
 
 And the velvet-soft caressing of their finger- 
 touches healing, 
 
 Brings to the sere white-hazel bark again its youth- 
 ful gloss. 
 
 And round and round they skip and glide, in 
 
 strange fantastic measure. 
 To weird, unhallowed melodies of fairy minstrelsy, 
 Yet mortal ear may never hear those sounds of 
 
 elfin pleasure, 
 
 And no whisper of its secrets gives the white-hazel 
 tree! 
 
 But should the peasant wander nigh that baleful 
 
 bower, unthinking, 
 And sudden feel the chilling of the haunted hazel's 
 
 shade, 
 
 A nameless horror seizes on his spirit, bowed and 
 shrinking, 
 
 And making oft the Holy Sign, he hurries home dis- 
 mayed. 
 
 For maid that treads the path of doom beneath 
 
 the hazel's shadow, 
 Shall be the bride of Death, they say, before a 
 
 month has flown; 
 
 Cl2] 
 
THE HAUNTED HAZEL 
 
 And laughing swain, in pride of strength, who 
 
 crossed at eve the meadow, 
 Shall moulder 'neath the matted moss, e'er yet 
 
 that mead is mown! 
 
 So, in the solemn hours of night the fairies dance 
 
 unharmed. 
 Till thro' gray dawn the haggard moon her waning 
 
 span doth dree. 
 Then from the blessed sunbeam flies the evil 
 
 power that charmed, 
 And :.. ry spell is hfted from the white-hazel tree! 
 
 do 
 
 
 ^s^^^s^^n^^^^^'^i'^^^^^^v!^^''^ 
 
Oi 
 
 MEELIN MOUNTAIN 
 
 'N the slopes of Meelin Mountain 'tis as lone- 
 some as can be, 
 
 Up among the whins and heather where our little 
 cottage stands 
 And all night I hear the wailing 
 Of the homeless curlews sailing 
 And the ever-haunting rhythm of the marching 
 Fairy bands. 
 
 They are marching down from Meelin to the dark- 
 ling vales below, 
 Like an army ofF to battle — massed in squadron 
 and platoon — 
 I can see their lances gleaming 
 And their rustling banners streaming. 
 While ten thousand silvern helmets shame the 
 lustre of the moon. 
 
 They are passing down from Meelin to the Rath 
 
 of Glen-na-shee 
 Down the lonely mountain roadway by the Ridge 
 of Moonamoe; 
 And their Harpers all are playing 
 Fairy tunes t.iat set you swaying, 
 Fairy strains that thrill the spirit with the spells 
 of long ago ! 
 
 [14] 
 
MEELIN MOUNTAIN 
 
 Who is brave enough to follow where the solemn 
 
 night-winds call ? 
 Who will join them down from Meelin in the 
 moonbeams falling white? 
 All his earthly woes shall leave him, 
 Human sorrows never grieve him, 
 And the Fairy Harps shall lull him evermore 
 with strange delight! 
 
 They are marching down from Meelin, stepping 
 
 fast before the dawn. 
 Fainter grows the Fairy Music, dying plaintive 
 on the blast, 
 And I ponder by the embers 
 While my tristful soul remembers 
 All the magic of lost visions — all the dreams of 
 youth long-passed! 
 
 ds] 
 
THE FAIRY PIPER 
 
 vJNE evening as I wandered by the Rath of Ross- 
 na-Ree 
 
 c "!fV^ ^f}'^^ ^^^^^ ^"^ ^^ quaintly winked at me; 
 Said he, "You love our people and you sing their 
 praise so fine 
 
 That just by way of a reward you'll listen now to 
 mine." 
 
 His coat was red, and amber-barred, his panta- 
 loons were blue. 
 His eyes were black as ripened sloes, and they were 
 dancing too. 
 
 His pipes were gold and ivory, his chanter jewelled 
 
 strange. 
 And when the first wee note he struck, the world 
 
 began to change! 
 
 For all the birds in Ossory they gathered round us 
 there. 
 
 And every songster joined with him in chorus 
 sweet and rare. 
 
 Till my poor heart revived anew and lost its bur- 
 den sad, 
 
 And once again came rapture true, like when I 
 was a lad. 
 
 A rose-red flush lit up the skies and tinged the 
 dappled green, 
 
 [16] 
 
THE FAIRY PIPER 
 
 And seated on a sapphire throne I saw the Fairy 
 
 Queen; 
 And all the Red Branch heroes clad in armor 
 
 dazzling bright 
 
 Lined up around the fairy mound; it was a splen- 
 did sight! 
 
 Then suddenly an elfin door oped wide in Ross-na- 
 Ree, 
 
 A spell of gladness held the earth, and swayed 
 each flow'r and tree, 
 
 And out there trooped the Fairy Folk, ten thou- 
 sand strong if one. 
 
 All dancing in the sunshine, round about their 
 haunted dun! 
 
 The hours flew by like moments, and the daylight 
 
 faded soon. 
 Yet still went on that wondrous dance beneath 
 
 a mystic moon; 
 My eyes grew dim with happiness, but when I 
 
 gazed once more. 
 The vision all had vanished and the fairy spell 
 
 was o'er! 
 
 Yet often since, in gladsome dream, I hear that 
 piper play. 
 
 And feel again the rapture of that blissful summer 
 
 day, 
 And often, too, I wander by the Rath of Ross-na-Ree, 
 Though now I know its magic door will ope no 
 
 more to me! 
 
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 "-jy. 
 
 And wealth o' the world I'd barter to shield you 
 from annoy. 
 
 At dead o' the night, alanna, the heart o' the world 
 IS still, 
 
 But sobbing o fairy music comes down the haunted 
 hill; 
 
 The march o' the fairy armies troubles the peace 
 
 o the air. 
 Blest angels, shelter my darling for power of a 
 
 mother's pray 'r I 
 
 At dead o' the night, alanna, the sleepless Banshee 
 moans. 
 
 Wailing for sin and sorrow, by the Cairn's crum- 
 bling stones, 
 
 At dead o' the night, alanna, I ask of our God 
 above, 
 
 To shield you from sin and sorrow, and cherish 
 you in His love. 
 
 [i8] 
 
AT DEAD O' THE NIGMT, ALANNA 
 
 At dead o' the night, alanna, I wonder o'er and 
 
 o'er, 
 Shall you part from our holy Ireland, to die on a 
 
 stranger shore? 
 You'll break my heart in the leaving like many a 
 
 mother I know — 
 Just God, look down upon Erin and lift her at 
 
 last from woe! 
 
 At dead o' the night, alanna, I see you in future 
 years, 
 
 Grand in your strength, and noble, facing the wide 
 
 world fears; 
 Though down in the mossy churchyard my bones 
 
 be under the sod, 
 My spirit shall watch you, darling, till you come 
 
 to your rest in God ! 
 
 [19] 
 
BY LIGHT O' THE MOON 
 
 i3Y light o' the r-oon at the gray cairn-stone 
 
 A wondrous sight you'll see; 
 By light o' the moon when the Banshee's croon 
 
 Faint comes o'er moor and lea! 
 Weird cloud-shades hurry athwart the sky, 
 
 The drowsy glens are still, 
 And the march you'll see, of the Sluag-Sidhe 
 
 By light o' the moon on the hill! 
 
 By light o' the moon you'll hearken soon," 
 
 Strange music throbbing sweet. 
 The harp-notes bold of the Bards of old 
 
 Your tranced ear shall greet! 
 For theirs are the plans of the mystic ranns 
 
 By the fairies filched away, 
 And they echo still on the moonlit hill 
 
 Where the elfin minstrels play. 
 
 By the light o' the moon, as the reed-pipes croon, 
 
 The fairy hosts are seen; 
 And gallant and gay is their proud array 
 
 With glint of shield and skian! 
 They wage once more, in mimic war, 
 
 Fierce fights of the days long o'er. 
 When the Finian sword by Erna's ford, 
 
 The "ridge of battle" up-bore! 
 
 [20] 
 
BY LIGHT O' THE MOON 
 
 By light o' the moon at the gray cairn-stone 
 
 The fairy minstrels weep, 
 And the melting tone of th-r sorrcws' moan 
 
 The winds of Erin keep. 
 They weep her Harpers dead and gone, 
 
 Whose strains would haunt and thrill, 
 They mourn and wail o'er the doom of the Gael, 
 
 By the light o' the moon on the hill! 
 
 [21] 
 
mMii^^^Lkj 
 
 I 
 
 CNOC-AULINN 
 
 LEAVE my parents in Kilmacowen, 
 
 My loving cousins in Ard-na-Grange, 
 For o'er the mountains I must be goin'. 
 
 Where fairy voices all bid me range!* 
 Beyond those hill-tops fair visions shimmer, 
 
 Bright with the sun, an' the water faUin'' 
 Good-bye, Moondharrig! each moment dimmer, 
 
 1 fly forever to far Cnoc-Aulinn. 
 
 Weary am I o' the wordy clatter. 
 
 The busy tongue an' the sordid mind. 
 The world which seemed a mighty matter 
 
 Fades as I leave it far behind; 
 I leave my plough in the grassy furrow. 
 
 My patient horse in the headland stallin'. 
 Good-bye, Gurthlawhan; for ere to-morrow 
 
 I II walk with Oscar on old Cnoc-Aulinn! 
 
 There shall I listen to drowsy waters. 
 
 And magic tones o' the Keol-Sidhe'— 
 Hear Bardic rannin' of ancient slaughters 
 
 And Finn's Dord-Fiann o'er Knoc-na-righ. 
 With kmgs of old I shall be recHnin', 
 
 In pleasant dreamin' fond scenes recallin', 
 While shamrocks there at my feet entwinin'', 
 
 Shall bless my slumbers on gray Cnoc-Aulinn. 
 
 [22] 
 
IN THE SHADOWY GLENS 
 
 ^^r^msmp 
 
is^miismi^^mLmmg.^^kmi^^'mmxm' 
 
LV'.'% -■ •IV " 
 
 SONG OF THE LITTLE VILLAGES » 
 
 ' .^ 
 
 J. HE pleasant little villages that grace the Irish 
 
 glynns 
 Down among the wheat-fields — up amid the 
 
 whins, 
 The little white-walled villages crowding close to- 
 gether, 
 Clinging to the Old Sod in spite of wind and 
 weather: 
 Ballytarsney, Ballymore, Ballyboden, Boyle, 
 Ballingarry, Ballymagorry by the Banks of 
 
 Foyle, 
 Ballylaneen, Ballyporeen, Bansha, Ballysadare, 
 Ballybrack, Ballinalack, Barna, Ballyclare. 
 
 from the mist, 
 .ean-spray are 
 
 The cosy little villages that s. 
 Where the great West Walls . 
 
 kissed; 
 
 The happy little villages that cuddle in the sun 
 When blackberries ripen and the harvest work is 
 done. 
 Corrymeela, Croaghnakeela, Clogher, Cahirci- 
 
 veen, 
 Cappaharoe, Carrigaloe, Cashel and Coosheen, 
 Castlefinn and Carrigtohill, Crumlin, Clara, 
 
 Clane, 
 Carrigaholt, Carrigaline, Cloghjordan and Cool- 
 rain. 
 
 ' All the names are genuine. 
 [25] 
 
m^f^-.^M 
 
 SONG OF THE LITTLE VILLAGES 
 
 The dreamy little villages, where by the fire at 
 night, 
 
 Old Shanachies vith ghostly tale th- boldest 
 
 hearts affright; 
 The crooning of the wind-blast is the wailing 
 
 Banshee's cry, 
 
 And when the silver hazels stir they say the fairies 
 sigh. 
 
 Kilfenora, Kilfinnane, Kinnity, Killylea, 
 Kilmoganny, Kiltamagh, Kilronan and Kilrea, 
 Killashandra, Kilmacow, Killiney, Killashee, 
 Killenaule, Killmyshall, Killorglin and Killeagh. 
 
 Leave the little villages, o'er the black seas go, 
 Learn the stranger's welcome, lean rhe exile's woe, 
 Leave the little villages, but think lot to forget; 
 Afar they'll rise before your eyes to rack your 
 bosoms yet, 
 Moneymore, Moneygall, Monivea and Moyne, 
 Mullinahone, Mullinavatt, Mullagh and Moon- 
 coin, 
 
 Shanagolden, Shanballymore, Stranorlar and 
 Slane, 
 
 Toberaheena, Toomyvara, Tempo and Stra- 
 bane. 
 
 On the Southern Llanos, — north where strange 
 
 light gleams. 
 Many a yearning exile sees them in his dreams; 
 Dying voices murmur (passed all pain and care), 
 Lo the httle villages, God has heard our prayer " 
 
 L263 
 
HI 
 
 SONG OF THE LITTLE VILLAGES 
 
 Lisdoonvarna, Lissadil, Lisdargan, Lisnaskea, 
 Portglenone, Portarlington, Portumna, Port- 
 
 magee, 
 Clondalkin and Clongowan, Cloondara and 
 
 Clonae, 
 God bless the little villages and guard them 
 
 night and day! 
 
 C27: 
 
 '■•VyC t'f '■'■■":ti--lv _^,T.S-. ■:! 
 
I^> 
 
 wm^^MS2''^--£^^t^A wtv-v,( {t^^*-^ . 
 
 B 
 
 BALLAGH GAP 
 
 ALLAGH GAP, and the spring sun shining 
 On Leinster's valleys far down below; 
 Ballagh Gap, and the hedges lining 
 The roadways, blossomed like sifted snow! 
 
 Tis there I'd be with Youth's comrades playing. 
 
 In gladness maying through sweet lost days, 
 The gold-eyed primrose green banks arraying, 
 And daisies spangled in faerie maze. 
 
 Again I'd hear, as the wind came sighing 
 
 Across Mouiit Leinster and brown Creev-roe, 
 
 The plovers fluting when day was dying 
 And all the west was a magic glow. 
 
 Tis there I'd be when the sun, new-risen. 
 Brought vales Elysian to raptured eyes. 
 
 And the spirit saw, from its clayey prison', 
 God's hand bedizen the seas and skies. 
 
 Too soon, alas, from these fair scenes banished, 
 The friends of Boyhood all passed away. 
 
 And Youth's fond hoping too quickly vanished 
 In grief and groping when skies were gray. 
 
 Yet I still have visions that flash and quiver — 
 Dark gloom can never my soul enwrap — 
 
 For I see God's sunshine pour down forever 
 A golden river o'er Ballagh Gap! 
 
 [28] 
 
ON ARRAN SHORE 
 
 JDESIDE a white-walled cabin on the cliff 
 She stands, and gazes on the cruel wave; 
 
 Her hands are rough; her old face lined with grief; 
 The sons she loved so well 
 
 Lie drowned beneath the plangent ocean swell — 
 How dark and cold a grave! 
 
 The curraghs straggle in across the bar, 
 
 And many a happy mother hails them there, 
 
 The fisher lads home-coming from afar; 
 But now none comes to greet 
 
 The lonely widow who with dragging feet 
 Steals to her cabin bare! 
 
 There is a Mother in the Heavens high 
 
 Who comforts the bereft and broken heart; 
 
 And when at night the wind goes whimpering by, 
 And sobs the pitying rain; 
 
 When voices of the dead are heard again, 
 Mary doth peace impart! 
 
 [29] 
 
RIDERS TO THE SEA 
 
 /iCROSS the bleak, wind-weary Erris plain 
 
 T •, ^^'■^!'\"^' ""''" ^^^'•" ghostly banners fly: 
 Like Druid hosts the legions of the rain 
 
 Sweep to the spectral sea, 
 Whose ashen billows thunder mournfully 
 
 Beneath a lowering sky! 
 
 Blue turf-smoke rises from a cabin there 
 Close by the shore where falls the saky spray: 
 
 An aged mother, and two sisters fair 
 Are "caoining" for their dead! 
 
 Three brothers strong who fought the sea for bread 
 Have met their doom to-day! 
 
 And thus the anguished mother maketh wail- 
 
 Now all my sons lie in the waters drowned - 
 lis now I shall have rest and peace! The gale 
 Willnot my siul affright! 
 While wind and ^ave are battling all the night 
 Ueep will I sleep, and sound!" 
 
 C30] 
 
IRELAND'S MISTY HILLS 
 
 rET travelers prate of the Rockies great 
 
 Or the Alleghanies blue, 
 Or sights recall of the Andes tall 
 
 That sentinel Peru; 
 Of the Urals gray or the Himalay 
 
 Where God's white daylight spills — 
 My fancy flies to the sea-warm skies 
 
 And Irelands misty hills! 
 
 With Druid cloud-belt girded on 
 
 They lift their shoulders brown — 
 The Galtees, Toomies, Slieve-na-mon, 
 
 Slieve Donard, Knoc-Mel-Dhown; 
 And Kerry's Reek with tow'ring peak 
 
 The homing exile thrills, 
 When high and brave above the wave 
 
 Rise Ireland's misty hills! 
 
 The gorse is gold where heroes bold 
 
 Of old were wont to stray; 
 Where Finn and Ossian through the wold 
 
 Went hunting day by day; 
 Where Fergus and Cuhoolin trod 
 
 Beside the wandering rills, 
 And good St. Patrick blessed the sod 
 
 On Ireland's misty hills ! 
 
 [31] 
 
 •L -■ '-' 
 
 ^^ 
 
 ^M 
 
■*-.J» ♦.«IIklJ_.-^» 
 
 IRELAND'S MISTY HILLS 
 
 No coward slaves have made their graves 
 
 Upon these heathery heights, 
 Where kins and kerne in battle stern 
 
 Have bled for Erin's rights! 
 The wind that through her ancient tovv'rs 
 
 In mournful accent shrills, 
 Shouts ranns of pride for the brave who died 
 
 On Ireland's misty hills! 
 
 May combats cease; and love and peace 
 
 In that fair Island dwell; 
 Each race ai._ .reed, in the country's need 
 
 Her patriot anthems swell! 
 May North and South together band 
 
 To banish age-long ills. 
 And all her clans undaunted star i 
 
 For Ireland's mistv hills! 
 
 [32] 
 
MAURYA BAWN 
 
 Wake up, wake up, alanna, Maurya Bawn, 
 Maurya Bawn! 
 (Hush! do not weep, mo crervin, in the dawn!) 
 Your father must be goin' from the place he called 
 his own, 
 
 For the landlord wants the holdin,' Maurya 
 Bawn! 
 
 Rise up, rise up, alanna, Maurya Bawn, Maurya 
 Bawn, 
 (Now do not weep, mo veelish, in the dawn!) 
 We must hurry — no denyin' — from the little 
 cabin flyin' 
 For they're comin' to evict us, Maurya Bawn! 
 
 Your mother's dead an' buried, Maurya Bawn, 
 Maury Bawn! 
 (Ah! Do . weep, mo colleen, in the dawn!) 
 God's Holy Hand is in it — sure the Home she 
 has this minnit 
 Ne'er a landlord can be stealin', Maurya Bawn! 
 
 Tis well she's now in Heaven, Maurya Bawn, 
 Maurya Bawn! 
 {Aciishla! Such wild sobbin', in the dawn!) 
 'Tis she would grieve to view us — Och! wid 
 tears o' blood she'd rue us. 
 Driven forth to beg the world, Maurya Bawn! 
 
 [33] 
 
 >j? 
 
 i''» ■*! Mf: 
 
 - if*'- ■">«*■•* . 
 
i^nl 
 
 MAURYA BAWN 
 
 The hearth is cowld an' dreary, Maurya Bawn, 
 Maury a Bawn! 
 ("^^f^ortri', hke our hearts are, in the dawn!) 
 Tis you an' me to-morrow on the ston> roads o' 
 sorrow — 
 
 Come and kiss me in my throuble, Maurya 
 Bawn ! 
 
 Rise up, rise up, alanna, Maurya Bawn, Maurya 
 Bawn! 
 (Rise up, an' laive the ould home, in the dawn!) 
 The way is dark an' wairy, an' the hearts o' men 
 contrairy, 
 
 But we'll trust to God an' Mary, Maurya 
 Bawn! 
 
 Rise up, rise up, alanna. Maurya Bawn, Maurya 
 Bawn! 
 
 {Mavourneen, dry those tear drops — 'tis the 
 dawn!) 
 
 Brush back the shiny hair from your little fore- 
 head — there! 
 
 An' we'll face the world together, Maurya 
 Bawn ! 
 
 [34] 
 
'W I 
 
 ALL SOULS' NICHT 
 
 I 
 
 HEAR the waves. 
 The lonely, homeless waves 
 Clash on the beach; 
 
 And in the darkt iiing night 
 The driven winds 
 
 Are moaning to the bleak and wintry stars! 
 
 Upon the cliff 
 
 A whitewashed cabin stands; 
 The fire burns low, a candle Bickers dim, 
 
 And kneeling there 
 A mother tells her beads, and prays to Heaven. 
 
 Strong is her prayer; 
 
 The Powers on high are moved. 
 The very Throne of God 
 
 Is swayed as by a storm; 
 Sweet Mary's Son 
 
 Looks down upon that wild and barren coast! 
 
 Up from the sea, 
 
 Out of the black and grim and angry waves 
 Four drowned fishers come — 
 
 The widow's sons 
 Teig, Donal, Flann, and youthful Shemus, 
 
 All long dead — 
 They strain towards the light, 
 
 They drift like wavering mist-wraiths to the light ! 
 
 [ 35 J 
 
ALL SOULS' NIGHT 
 
 Anon they stand 
 
 Uncertainly, beside the cottage door, 
 Tlie salt sea drips 
 
 Down from their hands and hair and hollow 
 eyes; 
 They touch the pane 
 
 With slimy fingers, gibbering the while — 
 Ah, poor blind ghosts that know not why they 
 come! 
 
 The Heavens are oped, the mother gazes up 
 
 The son of God is smiling down on her; 
 The candle flares and sways! 
 
 Angelic pinions stir the tranced air! 
 Are these the four gray ghosts? 
 
 How changed now! 
 No longer are their faces dull and dim; 
 
 Transfigured now they shine with youth divine; 
 Where now the slime 
 
 And dripping sea-weed? 
 Donal, Teig, and Flann, 
 
 And tall young Shemus, staru in dazzling white! 
 
 In Heaven a hush! 
 
 Who is it enters now? 
 Are these four fisher lads, or victor kings?" 
 
 Hark how the Archangelic hosts acclaim! 
 Hark how the Heavenly trumpets fanfare blow! 
 
 [36: 
 
 ■ ¥2.ir'i»F»3C:3P». 
 
THE CONNAUGHT SHORE 
 
 HE bitter seas are racing, 
 
 The salt spray tosses high, 
 The gray and spumy cloud wrack 
 
 Is surging through the sky; 
 Wild billows sweeping landward 
 
 A thousand miles and more 
 Like famished wolves are leaping 
 
 Against the Connaught Shore! 
 
 The curraghs and the fishers 
 
 Sailed oul but yester e'en. 
 When calm was on the water 
 
 And sunset's golden sheen; 
 The broken boats and bodies 
 
 To-day a mad tide bore 
 And flung with ruthless ravings 
 
 Upon the Connaught Shore! 
 
 Hark to that weird lamenting! 
 
 The ancient caoines arise! 
 The straw-roofed, white-walled cabins 
 
 Are filled with anguished cries; 
 That sound of sorrow pierces 
 
 Above the ocean's roar — 
 Dear Christ, look down with pity 
 
 Upon the Connaught bhore! 
 
 [37] 
 
THE TINKERS 
 
 HE tinkers passed by Dhrimoclare, 
 White metal crackling on their backs; 
 The girls wore roses in their hair, 
 
 The men bore treasure in their packs! 
 
 Long had they journeyed o'er the plain, 
 From yon far mountain dim and tall; 
 
 Through sunshine and the golden rain, 
 Hearing the thrush and linnet call. 
 
 And long before the sun has set 
 
 They shall have reached my land o' dreams, 
 Where yellow furze out-blossoms yet, 
 
 And violets twinkle by the streams. 
 
 They shall have reached my chosen land, 
 Where never shall my footsteps stray; 
 
 Where flowered fields and castles grand, 
 And opal skies the eyes repay! 
 
 For I shall never see beyond 
 Those hills that shimmer in the sun, 
 
 Tho' my sad heart with yearning fond 
 Would follow where the tinkers run. 
 
 Tied to my houses, cows and lands, 
 
 I feel the prison chain and goad. 
 Such riches all I'd give to stand 
 
 SouI-f»ee upon the tinkers' road! 
 
 
 ■.'tas^jEsars'if > f.^s 
 
 .■je.-j ir:^?tcscsiii®^ 
 
l^L 
 
 IRELAND, MARCH 17th, 1913 
 
 ^HE stands beside her ancient seas 
 Attentive to their threnodies; 
 
 Gray-blue her eyes that frequent tears 
 Have brimmed throughout long weary years; 
 
 But now a new light in them glows, 
 Her pale cheek mantles with the rose. 
 
 Deep in her heart a song is sung. 
 The anthem of the ever-young. 
 
 The sun out-flashes, and the cold 
 
 And leaden waves are fringed with gold; 
 
 The lakes, the hills, the valleys green 
 Bathed in gladsome light are seen. 
 
 She kneels beside her deep-hued seas 
 And strikes her harp to ecstasies: 
 
 For all her woes are mem'ries old 
 All, all her piteous tales are told, 
 
 And, praising Heaven, she rises free 
 To hail the Gael's great destiny. 
 
 [39] 
 
 ill 
 
 '^firsinR^fKj 
 
TO WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS 
 
 VV HAT is my prayer for thee this Easter Day 
 Great bard of Erin's past, who dwell'st alone 
 With the dim shadows of a vanished time 
 With Ossian and pale Niam and wise Fin 
 Among the brooding and lamenting hills? 
 I pray for thee the love of Jesus Christ, 
 The comforts of His faith. May Mary spread 
 The mantle of her night-black holy hair 
 Over thy wearied eyes, and win thee back 
 From endless v.,.ndering (like the wandering 
 moon) 
 
 With Goll and Caoilte, and the Finian 'jands 
 Across wide barren plains and foam-white seas. 
 
 And may the Judge say to thee at the last — 
 
 Thou canst not enter here unheralded: 
 Go back and bring the friends thou lovest most." 
 
 And lo, again comes Yeats to heaven's gate 
 And all the Finians with him cheering wild 
 And stirring all its courts with brazen sounds 
 Of the Dord Fiann. And their spears and shields 
 Are cast, loud clashing, on the golden floor 
 Till heaven is cluttered with their warlike gear! 
 
 Then Michael waves his flaming sword on high 
 And all his warrior angels welcome shout. 
 
 C40] 
 
 ,':s^}Himsw : -.'sm 
 
EMMET'S EPITAPH 
 
 (One of the first official acts of the new Irish Parliament will be 
 a vote in favor of a National Memorial to the noble young Protes- 
 tant hero, Robert Emmet.) 
 
 13UILD ye a shrine to Emmet, the noblest of 
 Ireland's dead 
 
 Write ye in gold apon it the deathless words he 
 said : — 
 
 "Let my epitaph not be written; let my dust 
 unnoticed lie, 
 Till the shout for Ireland's freedom goes up to 
 God's fair sky! 
 
 "When other men have arisen, and other times 
 have birth. 
 When my country stands, a Nation, 'mid the 
 nations of the earth; 
 
 'When my memory and my motives show cleared 
 of shame and gloom. 
 Let Ireland write my story — let Ireland build 
 my tomb!" 
 
 Thro' years of trial and waiting have Ireland's 
 
 sons obeyed 
 This testament of their hero in death's drear 
 
 shadows made; 
 
 C41] 
 
EMMET'S EPITAPH 
 
 An hundred years of sadness did the martyr's 
 bones remain 
 
 Unmarked, uncared, uncovered to the tempest 
 and the rain! 
 
 Only in patriot bosoms his name thrice dear 
 was writ, 
 
 Or in lonely hearts of exiles love's shrines to 
 him were lit! 
 
 But now when her Cause has triumphed shall 
 Lrir proudly raise 
 
 A pillar of glorious marble to blazon forth his 
 praise! 
 
 And on its stainless whiteness these words shall 
 trin grave : — 
 
 "Here lieth my best beloved — my martyred hero 
 brave! 
 
 "uZ' ^jf^^>'°«"^ ^^^^'•^ Emmet, the eagle of liberty, 
 fVbo died, when the night was darkest, that Ireland 
 might be free!" 
 
 C42] 
 
IN MEMORIAM 
 
 (Very Rev. Canon Sheehan, of Doneraile, died Oct. 6th, 1913.) 
 
 HE sun shines on his garden in the South, 
 Where Doneraile beside the Awbeg's stream 
 Lies drenched in hght. Fair are the hills around 
 And golden is the Autumn's mellow glow 
 O'er Desmond, home of history and romance. 
 And present charm. But in the souls of men 
 Are grief and woe — for he has passed away 
 Who loved this land, and this his people true; 
 Knew all the secrets of their souls, and made 
 Their joys and woes his own (like him erewhile 
 By gentle Goldsmith sung); with matchless pen 
 Limnmg their lives. Another "Daddy Dan" 
 He moved amongst them, reverenced and beloved; 
 The children followed after for his smile: 
 Strong youth and manhood claimed his benison; 
 And ancient crones, to meet him on his way 
 And gain a greeting, hobbled fast along, 
 Forgetful of the weary weight of years! 
 
 Who now will make the world attend and see 
 The tragedy and comedy expressed 
 In these deep vales.? Who now will make us smile 
 And weep at every page, obedient 
 Unto that magic wand he called his pen.? 
 Who now will show us that blest miracle 
 The love of Ireland's people for their priest 
 
 [43: 
 
IN MEMORIAM 
 
 And the priest's love for them — the rock-ribb'd 
 wall 
 
 That broke dark Persecution's bitter tides 
 Raging in vain and tossing spray obscene 
 Against high heaven? 
 
 Sheehan is dead — is dead! 
 And Doneraile is desolate! From far 
 Across the world shall sound I'le message sad 
 Of sorrowing friends whose myriad hearts he won 
 By his great books, that touched profoundest 
 chords 
 
 Of the stirred soul. All these, his "shadow- 
 friends" 
 Shall weep with Doneraile! And even those 
 Who when he lived, through envy and small mind, 
 Did him no honor, now shall crowd around 
 With tardy and unworthy hands to bring 
 Unwelcome wreaths. 
 
 _ . His spirit shall not crave 
 
 1 he eulogies of men. His Judge divine 
 Weighing the toil of all his burdened years 
 Of patient service; — marking every care. 
 And grief, and pain, and portioning reward 
 For every noble thought flung far and wide 
 Like heavenly seed, shall smile on him with love, 
 Hooding his soul with rapture evermore! 
 
 1:44: 
 
 ■wi.r'T«r= 
 
THE EXILE'S RETURN 
 
 HE moaning of the wind on Carrig-Rue, 
 The rustling of the sedges by Loch Finn 
 Sound dirge-like in mine ears. A fairy tune 
 Sadder than death I hear. 
 
 The olden place 
 Is there, and stand the mystic hills around; 
 But all seem gray and ghostly, for no more 
 The comrades of my youthful days I see — 
 They all have fled, and I am left alone 
 With the familiar hills and long-known fields, 
 An ache within my heart. It seems a dream, 
 A weary dream from which I must awake 
 To hear their voices call, and see their eyes 
 So kind and friendly, gaze into mine own. 
 I cry aloud their names — friends of my youth 
 Come back to me from out the mist of years. 
 Come back to me from out the mournful Past; 
 Come back, come back — I shiver here alone. 
 Here 'mid the sights and scenes you loved so well. 
 My cry dies out upon the empty air, 
 And fairy music sobbing sad and sore 
 Burdens the hills. The wind on Carrig-Rue 
 Moans, and the sedges toss beside Loch Finn. 
 
 [45 : 
 
 I 
 
I 
 
 MOTHER LOVE 
 
 WAS a hurt and frightened little boy 
 Running to mother's arms. All was well. 
 There was the farm-house door, and, just inside. 
 She would be waiting with her hands outstretched 
 And love-hght in her eyes to comfort me; 
 And I would lie contented on her breast 
 Until my sobbing ceased. Then she would kiss 
 My tearful eyes, and call me loving names — 
 "Jlanna bawn! alanna dhas machree! 
 Yes, I was hurt, but all would soon be well. 
 
 What is it.? God! A dream? a dream you say? 
 There is no house — no mother — I am old ? 
 And she is dead and gone this many a year 
 Under the graveyard mould. She cannot hear — 
 ihmk you she cannot hear? 
 
 Ah, yes, she hears! 
 She comes. I feel her arms about me now — 
 Her kisses on my face. Her tender voice 
 Is crooning once digmn: — '' Alanna bazvnf 
 Jvic machree' Mo cuishla bawn asthore!" 
 
 C46] 
 
It 
 
 I 
 
 EVELEEN BURKE 
 
 (Translated from the Irish) 
 
 N Desmond are many fair maidens with faces 
 
 as pure as the dawn, 
 Whose eyes of deep blue spark' >right as the 
 
 dew on a green-bosomed lawn; 
 And light is the song of their gladness, tho' near 
 
 it the tear-drops may lurk, 
 But none can make up for my sadness, since they 
 
 buried you, Eveleen Burke! 
 
 What right have I, Turlough O'Hagan, to speak 
 
 of your beauty at all ? 
 Or to tell how you made old iCillaiden a place 
 
 for the angels to call ? 
 Sure for me or my likes there was never a chance 
 
 to be talking to you, 
 Whom God had marked out for His Kingdom, as 
 
 plain as His heavens are blue! 
 
 Twas my woe that the landlord was forcing the 
 
 blood from my body for rent; 
 'Twas my grief that the writs of eviction that 
 
 left me no home had been sent! 
 No word could I speak to you, Cushla, though wild 
 
 the distress of my mind, 
 When I saw you depart, weeping bitter to leave 
 
 old Killaiden behind! 
 
 [47] 
 
r\\ 
 
 got loving 
 
 Desmond, 
 
 longing, 
 
 y » 
 
 OU 'ju'- cr 
 
 EVELEEN BUK'CE 
 
 Mocreevin! they say that you n' . , 
 
 that land far away 
 That your heart ever yearn, i ,or 
 
 and there to the last it v , , ; { ^t 
 1 hat your eyes would grow dir ^^ r .^g 
 
 and blushes would come a- >i .., 
 And the voice and the lips .)t 
 
 mention of old Carron-Moi- ' 
 
 One day came the thing that I d ^ 
 
 message to say you were dei. J ' 
 Ihe mountains were rocking around me 
 
 skies black as Judgment o'crhead! 
 And I that was be.r in the hurlmg, and first at 
 
 the dance and the fair, 
 
 c«il:r::f,h""' ,f '■''^ =■ '^^ ^""^^ "-at 
 
 creaks in the cold winter air! 
 
 In Desmond are many young maidens as sweet 
 
 as the white ceann-a-bhan, 
 But I watch for the hour when the Pikemen 
 Then IV iTmi^'u °".«'"y Sliabh-na-mhan! 
 
 bv tt H ^'"^"^/l' ""y '^"-^^ ^"^^^ralled 
 „,, ^y fhe Hope and the Work, 
 
 '^IndDeV/'t ^°.^y^'"S - Freedom 
 and Death leads to Eveleen Burke! 
 
 — a 
 
 the 
 
 [48] 
 
TIPPERARY 
 
 fTf William Butler Yeats were reciuested to wnte a ooem about 
 Tipperary this is how he would go .ijout it:) *^ * 
 
 lND we rode from the plains of the sea's edge- 
 
 the sea s edge barren and gray, 
 On the foam-breasred horses of Mananan, 
 under the slumbering trees; 
 We were searching for old Tipperary. so far in 
 the distance away; 
 We wert seeking the graves of the Red Branch, 
 and rest from the moan of the seas! 
 
 The pearl-pale N.ami, rode by us, more white 
 than the waters are white; 
 Her eyes were all clouded with sorrow, as the 
 new-lit fire shadows the skies, 
 And she said: "Shall we meet rhem, our comrades, 
 the tmian heroes, to-night. 
 Where the highlands of gray Tipperary, wind- 
 blanched and lonely, arise?" 
 
 And she cried: "Lo, I see in the distance the 
 starry-edged rims of the hills, 
 Sheve-na-mon, Galtymore, are unfolding to 
 welcome us home from afar! 
 O this is indeed Tipnerary, aye wafting her soul- 
 swooning thrills. 
 Hark! the bugle of Fin on her mountains makes 
 tremble the ultimate star!" 
 
 L49] 
 
TIPPERARY 
 
 Then Ossian came there to meet us — gold- 
 sandaled and silent he came, 
 And he swayed in our faces the Bell Branch, 
 slow-droppmg a sound in faint streams 
 Softer than snowflakes in April, and piercing the 
 marrow like flame! 
 And we slept in thy breast, Tipperary, while 
 centuries vanished in dreams! 
 
 Cso] 
 
 ^■s^m. 
 
H] 
 
 WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS 
 
 .E mused upon a fitful Danaan rhyme 
 All evenmg, leaning by an Ogham stone, 
 1 racing Its mystic rune that told of days 
 ^re l^irbolg or Fomorian walked the land; 
 tor m his snu weird whisperings he heard: 
 1 he wild wind keening through an ancient tower, 
 The rus hng reeds on lone Coolaney's strand 
 
 The sohh"' 7"i:"^"' ^^" ^" ^-^"-h shore, 
 1 he sobbing of the music of the Sidhe 
 
 In their enchanted raths! 
 
 T ., J. The moon arose 
 
 Like a dim wraith, above a bastion black 
 Of sombre cloud And then unto him came 
 
 Ai^d rX, n''"^'^' ^'^"' "^^^ ^» his troop; 
 And ruddy Oscar, eager for the chase; 
 
 And Ossian fingering a fairy harp; 
 Ana fierce Cuchulain, in his battle car, 
 Gloomy as midnight; pearl-pale Niam, too. 
 And Deirdre of the Sorrows! 
 
 I- 1 . , ^'^ ^^'^ pour 
 
 ^ rom their deep eyes into the poet's soul. 
 
 1 he ever-brooding sadness of the Past, 
 
 The wistfulness of long-remembered dreams - 
 
 Ihen Ossian gave his harp and bade him sing 
 
 ii 
 
 csi: 
 
RATHLIN ISLAND 
 
 WAS evening when our ship passed Rathlin's 
 shore. 
 
 And, like some isle enchanted of the Sidhe, 
 Her mighty cliffs o'erhung the darkening wave, 
 Heavy with mystery. There was no sound 
 In all that ghostly place; but solemn fires — 
 Like those erewhile unto the sun-god lit 
 In pagan Erin — burned and marked the spot 
 Where kelp was stored. 
 
 The sun went slowly down. 
 Like Fin's broad burnisht shield, into the west. 
 And Druid shadows draped the mournful night! 
 
 To-night I think of Rathlin, in the north. 
 Framed in the thunder of her gloomy seas, 
 While war's dread pali descends. 
 
 No fi e-light gleams. 
 And but the silent stars eternal glow. 
 Where Britain shuts her gates against the world! 
 
 [52] 
 
 
MOONDHARRIG BY THE SUIR 
 
 hul^V '"V"" "^".^y '^^ A^«"^h" ^n<J Lee; 
 Dull the^ hours I travel by the Shannon's waters 
 
 The days are slow to come, 
 And I longing to be home, 
 In the County of Kilkenny - in Moondharrig by 
 the Suir. ^ ^ 
 
 Ormonde glens are fair, and the green fields of 
 is-ildare; 
 
 Beauteous is Wicklow, while her mighty hills 
 endure; 
 To me more pleasing far 
 The fairy meadows are 
 
 And gentle streams that sparkle, in Moondharrig 
 by the Suir! ^ 
 
 Pleasant there is spring, when the feathered 
 warblers smg, 
 
 And over many a mossy bank pale primroses allure, 
 
 When the cuckoo's voice is heard. 
 
 And the soul of man is stirred 
 To worship his Creator, in Moondharrig by the Suir! 
 
 Glad is summer time, when the clover and the 
 thyme 
 
 Breathe a breath of Eden that a broken heart 
 would cure; 
 
 Cs3: 
 
MOONDHARRIG BY THE SUIR 
 
 When a haunting, dreamy haze 
 Crowns the glory of the days; 
 
 And through "Tir-na-n-og" we wander, in Moon- 
 dharrig by the Suir! 
 
 Swc ^ autumn there, in the mellow golden 
 
 Whe ne grain is yellow, and the fruits of earth 
 K.ature; 
 
 When from the haunted mounds 
 The "Keol-Shee" resounds, 
 ^^"The^Sufr!"'''''" °^ ^^^^st, in Moondharrig by 
 
 Mild the winter blows, when the silent-falling 
 snows ° 
 
 Clothe the glittering landscape in a vesture bright 
 and pure; ^ 
 
 From every mountain-pass 
 p°"^e the joyous folk to Mass, 
 
 by thTS ^'"' ""' ""^'"^' '" M°°"^^arrig 
 
 Dear to me the friends, where my own loved river 
 wends; 
 
 Precious all the manly hearts that hold her fame 
 secure 
 O'er many a stubborn field 
 That Gaelic slogan pealed: 
 
 CS4] 
 
MOONDHARRIG BY THE SUIR 
 
 fi^^frZ^^V'^'- 'Y •" ^--^^"y f '""^^ bide, 
 
 While home this Christmas Day 
 The loving neighbors say: 
 "God guard old Shaun the Piper!" in Moon- 
 dharrig by the Suir! 
 
 Issl 
 
 m 
 
 ■in 
 
 mw: 
 
ORANGE AND GREEN 
 
 1 WALKED out in the fields to-day 
 
 (It IS the most delightful season of the year) 
 
 White clouds were sailing over a blue sky. 
 
 Apple and cherry trees blossomed. 
 
 Bobolinks clinked like silver bells; 
 
 The new-born leaves, 
 
 Delicately verdant, 
 
 Interspersed the dark firs 
 
 Like a translucent emerald mist. 
 
 Or some filmy priceless tapestry 
 
 I thought it needed but a ruined Greek temple 
 
 Of richly stained marble 
 
 JeweHng the far landscape 
 
 To make it seem like an enchanted vale 
 
 Ut I empe or Arcady or Thessaly I 
 
 Over the meadows around 
 
 The dandelions grew lush among the grass — 
 
 Orange and Green! Orange and Green! 
 
 ^^ever were two more beautiful colors — 
 
 Never were two colors that blent so gaily! 
 
 1 thought the sunset skies 
 
 Could not afl^ord such contrast. 
 
 I thought with sadness: 
 In a short time the gold shall go 
 And the green remain alone; 
 Why can they not agree 
 
 1:56] 
 
 i^'^^: 
 
 tv,,.i? 
 
ORANGE AND GREEN 
 
 And flourish tlius forever together? 
 But Nature said: 
 "I am an old and wise mother 
 And know what is good for my children. 
 It is well they should blossom side by side 
 In love and in friendship, 
 Then blend all together in one 
 Into the green of the fields, 
 Under the blue of the heavens." 
 
 How glorious they are! 
 
 How tender they are! 
 
 Orange and Green! Orange and Green! 
 
 \3 
 
 i 
 
 a 
 
 [57] 
 
 i'Mj 
 
THE DAY OF THE ''LITTLE 
 PEOPLES" 
 
 ± HE banded races muster 
 
 To join the fray afar, 
 The souls of men are shaken, 
 
 The skies are red with war; 
 Thrones totter, tyrants tremble, 
 
 The People's might is shown — 
 When myriad wrongs are righted 
 
 Shall Ireland weep alone? 
 
 These are the slogans shouted. 
 These are the cries to-day: — 
 "Freedom for 'Little Peoples,' 
 
 Tyranny swept away. " 
 "Freedom for Serb and Belgian, 
 Freedom for Slav and Pole"; 
 When all have gained their guerdon 
 Shall Ireland miss the goal? 
 
 Shall Ireland, who has striven 
 
 Thro' years of woe and pain. 
 Lifting to darkened heaven 
 
 Her tortured eyes in vain — 
 She who in largesse prided, 
 
 Whose kings were great of yore, 
 A beggar stand derided 
 
 At England's bolted door? 
 C58] 
 
 .ffl*-^i^?^^«^,. 
 
 i^ •« IM 
 
THE DAY OF THE "LITTLE PEOPLES" 
 
 Then wake ye, Sons of Ireland! 
 
 Demand your rights as men, 
 She, too, is a "Little Nation," 
 
 Thunder the fact again! 
 Canada and Australia 
 
 Join in the mighty plea: 
 "Ireland, within the Empire 
 
 Self-ruled, self-guarded, free!" 
 
 II 
 
 ; ! 
 
 CS9] 
 
THE ANCIENT CELTIC GLAMOUR 
 
 .1 
 
 
 13^'. Ik- 
 
w^^m^^iMm^- 
 
 ws^&iS^^i^..:^;:<^^^mmam 
 
THE VIKINGS 
 
 HEY sailed from out the hidden fiord 
 When night-shades hovered dim, 
 The sea-wind shook them in its might, 
 And stretched their crackhng pennants tight. 
 And on their prows the Northern Light 
 Flamed fitfully and grim! 
 
 They swept from out the sheltered fiord 
 And strange, wild vows, they made, 
 
 To Freyja of the golden hair, 
 
 And Odin in his heavens, where 
 
 With Aesir he doth feast prepare 
 For heroes unafraid. 
 
 They called upon the Valkyries 
 
 The Choosers of the Slain, 
 And prayed for hearts gainst panic steeled. 
 And souls that would not quail or yield. 
 When Death strode o'er the furrowed field. 
 
 And blood bedewed the plain. 
 
 Their long-ships spurned the ocean wave 
 
 From North Cape's buttress tall, 
 To Faroe's stark and savage shore 
 And Iceland's firths oft-viewed before, 
 And Erin's coasts where mad seas roar, 
 Lashing the black cliff-wall. 
 
 L63] 
 
 i 
 I. 
 
 iii 
 
 Ul 
 
 k 
 
THE VIKINGS 
 
 All night like hungry hunting wolves 
 
 The winds howled in the stays, 
 And giant forms of fear and dread, 
 And faces of their foes long dead 
 Gleamed in the deep sea-troughs ahead 
 Enwreathed in ghosi'y sprays. 
 
 High o'er the evil-brooding shrouds. 
 The shivering watch ^aw clear 
 
 The Norns that shuttled webs of doom; 
 
 And their own fylgjar in the gloom 
 
 Gray with t!ie mildew of the tomb. 
 Filled them with nameless fearl 
 
 All day the boisterous billows tossed. 
 
 The drunken spars rolled free, 
 And the weird dragons at the prow 
 Glared up into the welkin now. 
 Then with a wild fantastic bow 
 
 Plunged down into the sea! 
 
 The threatening clouds hung black and vast 
 
 Across the waste close-drawn; 
 By wind and rain and sleetstorm lashed, 
 Into the green the slant bows crashed, 
 As the huge oak-ribbed galleys dashed 
 
 West through the mist-veiled dawn. 
 
 The storm-birds whirled round about 
 
 With raucous cries and shrieks; 
 Their red-rimmed eyes of cruel gray 
 
 C64: 
 
 rYH 
 
 ^;^V 
 
 
 i^ 
 
 ( ,, 
 
 i 
 
THE VIKINGS 
 
 Were like the Vikings' eyes that day, 
 When straight into an English bay, 
 They swung their galleys' peaks! 
 
 And woe befell that English town 
 When Hell broke loose around 
 Its quiet streets — and smoke and flame 
 Enwrapt its roofs — for Odin's name 
 Gave sanction unto scenes of shame 
 ^And murderous deed and sound! 
 
 The babes were tossed on Norman spears, 
 
 The children hacked and slain; 
 Nor youth, nor age exempted was, 
 And the gray sire that wailed his loss 
 They nailed upon a bloody cross, 
 And left to writhe in pain. 
 
 Then northward straight the Vikings sailed 
 
 Rounding the Orkney Isles; 
 And on a starry night and fine, 
 They burned lona's sacred shrine, 
 When the black seas, like Spanish wine. 
 
 Shone redly tinged for miles! 
 
 By Jura's shore and Colonsay 
 
 They joined Earl Sigurd's fleet, 
 And many a Viking chief was there. 
 With stalwart form and ruddy hair. 
 And arms and armor burnisht fair. 
 Eager the foe to meet. 
 
 C65] 
 
 ■^.*r,i*5^;i-- 
 
I I 
 
 THE VIKINGS 
 
 For well 'twas known thro' all that host 
 
 As skalds prophetic told, 
 That Brian, Erin's King, should die, 
 And all his Irish clansmen fly, 
 If on Good Friday drawing nigh, 
 
 They gave him battle bold. 
 
 Part false, part true this -jgurs' tale 
 
 That led them to their doom; 
 As ringed with shields for ready war. 
 They passed the Northern Channel's' bar, 
 Their long-ships sweeping proud and far, 
 Makmg a wide sea-room. 
 
 Swift course they laid for Dublin Bay 
 
 And entered like a wedge, 
 Solid and \ ast; a sight I ween 
 That ne'er before the Isle of Green 
 In all its troublous days had seen. 
 
 Of direful strife the pledge! 
 
 They landed where by Tolka's banks 
 
 Clontarfs broad ridges swell, 
 A fierce and glittering train to see 
 With Raven banners billowing free. 
 While Ocean, booming mournfully, 
 
 Bade them a last farewell! 
 
 King Sitrick's forces on the right 
 
 In chain-mail gleaming far, 
 And Sigurd, Eari of Orkney Isles, 
 
 [66] 
 
 J 
 
I 
 
 THE VIKINGS 
 
 And Anrud, lord of rough defiles, 
 And Brodar of the treacherous wiles, 
 Dared Erin's hosts to war. 
 
 Nor long did Brian's hosts delay. 
 
 That challenge to accept, 
 For, like the thunder-clouds that go, 
 With stately march o'er Aherlow, 
 From Galty's heights — portentous, slow, 
 
 They to the onset swept ! 
 
 Murrough and Donal led them on 
 
 (Chiefs of the house of Brian), 
 Dalcassians and Eugenians brave, 
 And Desmond's troops from Cleena's wave 
 And Leinster'.i kerne, whose arrows drave 
 Dense on the Danish line. 
 
 Full thrice against the Viking left 
 Tall Murrough hewed his way, 
 Trampling upon the heathen crew, 
 To where the Raven standard flew. 
 And each time he the bearer slew 
 Gleeful as if at play! 
 
 And a note of death sang fierce and high 
 
 Where Ireland's war-pipes blew, 
 For as that Gaelic plaint did swell. 
 The splintering axes rose and fell, 
 Like Thor's great hammer, wielded well, 
 Cleaving a dread road through! 
 
 [67] 
 
 iii 
 
 I 
 
 HI 
 
%.W' 
 
 THE VIKINGS 
 
 With ceaseless din the live-long day 
 
 The battle raged amain, 
 Till, as the sun dipped out of sight. 
 The Cross of Christ showed forth its might. 
 And the scared Vikings broke in flight 
 
 On Clontarf s fated plain. 
 
 •***♦♦» 
 
 Valhalla's halls can scarce contain 
 
 The thronging warrior souls! 
 Slow Tolka's stream is choked with dead, 
 Ten thousand Scanian corpses spread 
 Where on its marges, foaming red. 
 
 The frightened ocean rolls ! 
 **♦♦♦*♦ 
 
 Gone are the Vikings from the wave, 
 
 The boreal lights' weird glow 
 On night-raid ne'er again shall dance, 
 O'er brazen helm and glinting lance, 
 While the grim dragons seaward prance 
 
 And blood-red moons sink low! 
 
 Gone are the Vikings from drie seas. 
 
 Their Raven flag unfurlec 
 Shall flaunt no more 'neath Northern skies. 
 Where the dark island summits rise, 
 Or southward swoop for prey or prize. 
 
 And frighter half a workL 
 
 "^68] 
 
THE VIKINGS 
 
 Gone are the Vikings from the wave, 
 
 But for their wild souls' rest 
 The surges sullen and had that go, 
 Under thy wolf-tooth 'd crags, Faroe, 
 Still chant a requiem hoarse and low 
 When night-clouds pall the west! 
 
 C69] 
 
 SFi 
 
CNOC-AN-AR 
 
 (The Hill of Slaughter) 
 
 (A Pagan-Irish Dirge) 
 
 JVlY hero lies wounded and dying, 'mid thou- 
 sands on red Cnoc-an-ar, 
 
 Where the hosts of the High King are charging 
 the Kinians in tumult of war, 
 
 With Caoilte, and Diarmuid, and Oscar, he stood 
 on the ridge of the slain. 
 
 And the hosts of the High King broke past like 
 the tide 'gainst a rock in the main. 
 
 O, bright was his spear in the morning, and bur- 
 nisht his great shield of brass. 
 
 And pleasant his eyes that were blue as the hare- 
 bell in dewy-wet grass; 
 
 But his spear and his shield are now broken and 
 crusted with carnage and gore, 
 
 His eyes bloody-smeared shall flame out with the 
 joy of the battle no u.oie. 
 
 The halls of the Finians shall ring with the glory 
 
 and fame of this day. 
 And the bards clash loud harps to the ranns, that 
 
 the soul of proud Erin shall sway, 
 And Caoilte, and Diarmuid, and Oscar shall stand 
 
 up like gods, proud and tall, 
 But the hero I weep will not hearken, tho' greater 
 
 his glory than all. 
 
 [70] 
 
1 
 
 H3 
 
 CNOC-AN AR 
 
 The Banshee is waiHng o'er Desmond, I hear her 
 
 wild caoine thro' the night, 
 And o'er the lone home of my fathers there hovers 
 
 a piillid death-light; 
 I will raise him a cairn full kin^^iy on the mournful 
 
 mountains afar. 
 And letter his praises in Ogham, my hero of dark 
 
 Cnoc-An-Ar! 
 
 
 [71] 
 
 ■ 't- . 
 
 |4 
 
THE THREE WAVES OF ERIN* 
 
 WAS Christmas of a year of omen great 
 For that Green Isle so long to grief a prey, 
 And deep I pondered on her mistv past, 
 Half waking and half sleeping, til! at length 
 I dreamt a dream in which I seemed to stand 
 On regal Galty-Mhor, and a clear sun 
 Shone dazzlingly o'er Eire's ancient land. 
 Her beauties rare enhancing. Munster's valts 
 Spread out beneath, and Leinster's pleasant shores 
 And rugged Connaught frowning to the west. 
 And Ulster northward in the cold, bright sea's. 
 And as I watched, a cloud of mystery ,** 
 A druid haze enveloped hill and plain. 
 Shrouding the view. And from the air around 
 Three mighty Voices of the olden seas 
 — The Three Great Waves of Erin — sang aloud, 
 (With Cliodhna thundering deepest). 
 
 This their song: 
 
 We are the Waves of Erin, 
 
 The Three strong Waves that roar, 
 Smce time began, and the race of man, 
 
 First viewed her bastioned shore. 
 
 'The three mystical Waves of Erin, mentioned often in the old 
 Irish manuscripts, are Ton n Cliodhna, or the Wav- of Cleena. on 
 the south coast, near Clonakilty Bay; Tonn Tuaghe, on the north 
 coast, near the mouth of the Bann; and Tonn Ruadri, or the Wave 
 ot Kury, on the east coast, around the Bay of Dundrum 
 
 [72] 
 
THE THREE WAVES OK ERIN 
 
 We are the Waves of Erin, 
 
 And hold inviolate 
 The secret Word that then we heard 
 
 I* rom our Creator great. 
 
 We are the Waves of Erin, 
 
 In patience vv^aiting long, 
 Thro' myriad years dark-fraught with fears, 
 
 lo chant our triumph song: 
 
 TONN CLIODHNA (tHE WAVE OF CLEENa) 
 
 SINGS alone: 
 I saw the ships of Miledh 
 
 Round up from golden Spain, 
 Thro' the deep nist the Danaan made 
 The secret for their Isle to shade — 
 In vain ! — for soon from wold and glade 
 
 Wild War yelled out amaiu! 
 
 I saw the clans of Connacht 
 
 And fleets of Granuaile 
 Sail down from out the stormy West; 
 Seeking the foe with sa\ age zest, 
 They churned the fretful seas to yeast, 
 
 And scorned the rising gale! 
 
 I heard the wails of sorrow 
 
 When the great Earls passed. 
 I saw rich Spain's armada tossed 
 As jetsam on an iron coast, 
 Huge hulls that oft the Atlantic crossed 
 
 High 'gainst the heavens cast! 
 
 L73l 
 
 tie?'-^.;! 
 
THE THREE WAVES OF ERIN 
 
 (tonn ruadri) the wave of rury 
 SINGS alone: 
 
 When Patrick came to Erin 
 
 Bearing a message blest, 
 I sang him in the night to sleep, 
 And calmed the ocean's fevered leap, 
 Sounding to him a welcome deep, 
 
 Who came to save the West. 
 
 I saw the mail-clad Norman 
 
 By false MacMurrough led, 
 When Strongbow and De Pendergast 
 Of stature tall and body vast 
 Began the strife so long to last. 
 While Erin groaned and bled. 
 
 TONN TUAGHE (tHE WAVE OF TUGA) 
 
 SINGS alone: 
 
 The Viking ships came hurrying 
 
 (O, many a year ago!) 
 From Faroe and the Orkneys bound, 
 And distant Hecla's fire-clad mound, 
 And Norway's fiords and Denmark's Sound, 
 
 A fierce and warlike show! 
 
 O gay, their crackling pennants! 
 
 And white their sails did shint! 
 And all the long fair summer's day 
 Their fore-feet spurned i.ie cieaming spray 
 
 [74] 
 
 S^^? 
 
 J^t^^i^MIWl 
 
 t\ CM 
 
 -1' 
 
THE THREE WAVES OF ERIN 
 
 As southward swooped they on their prey; 
 Earl Sigurd's ships of line. 
 
 Their gods were Thor and Odin, 
 
 And plunder was their trade; 
 And on their weird carved beaks at night 
 Ihe Boreal flame threw ghastly light, 
 But to their last and greatest fight 
 
 The Danes pressed unafraid ! 
 
 Three days I viewed them passing, 
 
 And then the ocean's plain, 
 ,{;"" "^any a year rolled dark and lone, 
 Ihe Valkyries had claimed their own! 
 A thousand Viking Chiefs lay prone 
 On ClontarPs field of slain! 
 
 THE THRKE WAVES SING TOGETHER: 
 
 We are the Waves of Em, 
 
 Hearken our song at last! 
 Foi the long night of pain is done, 
 The heights are gained, the goal is won, 
 Lo, in the east the rising; sun! 
 
 Our weary watch is passed. 
 
 No more shall wars waste Erin, 
 
 Or Strife or Hatred ravc; 
 But Peace brood there with wings outspread 
 And her green vales shall freemen tread, 
 And tame encrown her martyred Dead, 
 
 And Emmet's nameless grave! 
 
 C75: 
 
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MICtOCOPY RESOLUTION TEST CHART 
 
 (ANSI ond ISO TEST CHAR^ No 2) 
 
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 ^ /APPLIED IN/MGE Inc 
 
 S^^ 165 J East Mam StrMl 
 
 y^a Rochester. Ne* Vork U609 uSA 
 
 '-Sa (716) 482 - 03QC - Phone 
 
 ^S (^'6) 288 - S989 - Fa» 
 
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 m^ 'r^i- *,«*■ t m*3, r 
 
 ^« !!K»L2t~^9il 
 
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 is 
 
 THE THREE WAVES OF ERIK 
 
 Her ships shall plough the Ocean 
 
 Once more a joy to see; 
 And in each rich and balmy dale, 
 Shall prosper the contented Gael, 
 And Christian joy and hope prevail. 
 
 Thro' glorious years to be! 
 
 The three :;reat Voices ceased. A dimness fell 
 Over the land, and shadowy figures loomed. 
 The olden gods swept by in dread array; 
 Angus, The Dagda, Mananan Mac Lir, 
 Nuadha, Bres, and Balor Evil-Eyed, 
 Their foreheads clad in clouds, and with them went 
 Their ancient peoples, murmurous like the sea, 
 Firbolg and Fomor, and the Danaan race 
 Deep-skilled in magic! Next there came a train 
 Of goodly heroes of the famed Red Branch; 
 Fergus and Ferdiah, and Naesi's Sons, 
 And Conall Cearnach of The Crimson Rout, 
 And Conor, son of Nessa. Last of these 
 Murhevna's pride, in form and face superb, 
 Cuchulain strode, and struck his clanging shield 
 Eager for battle. Close behind him marched 
 The Finian ranks, with brazen helm and spear. 
 And Finn in front with all his noble tribe — 
 Ossian and Oscar, Conn of the Hundred Fights, 
 And Dhiarmuid Son of Duibhne! 
 
 These passed away 
 Into the mist, and with them disappeared 
 All Pagan pride and pomp! 
 
 Then far away 
 
 [76] 
 
 ^^MTi^^pr^'^^^ 
 
 ^^^i^SSvF 
 
% 
 
 THE THREE WAVES OF ERIN 
 
 On a long hill, all in a globe of light, 
 
 Like the low sun, I saw a little Babe 
 
 Laid in a Manger, and a lustre grew 
 
 Intense about Him, till the distant hills 
 
 Leaped into view! Whereat the Christ-Child 
 
 smiled 
 And with a tiny Hand in blessing raised 
 Scattered the mists, and made the Isle His own. 
 
 177'] 
 
 I! 
 
 
THE HILL OF ALLEN 
 
 MoorI)' "^'"^ '"'' " "''"'"* '" Almhuin's high hall."- -Thomas 
 
 1 SAID I will arise and wander forth 
 
 High Almhuin's Hill to see, of Leinster wide 
 
 The glory and the crown — for I had read 
 
 In many a wild and strange old bardic tale 
 
 How on that hill great Finn his palace built, 
 
 And all the heroes of his order famed 
 
 Had lived and feasted there — Ossian the bard 
 
 And Caoilte and Conawn, and Goll the Red, 
 
 And Diarmhuid, son of Doon, and Oscar brave — 
 
 And so I traveled far a lonely road 
 
 Until I saw a mountain rise in air, 
 
 Through trailing Druid mists. I clambered up 
 
 Through reeds and withered grasses that sang out 
 
 A haunting chorus in the querulous wind. 
 
 A lowv red sun hung sadly in the west. 
 And shadows filled the valleys when I paused 
 On Allen's summit. Lone and bare it was. 
 And only gorse and heather flowered there' 
 Where flowered once proud Erin's chivalry! 
 No mound arose to mark the place where ?<-ood 
 The banquet hall where once th. foaming ad 
 Went round, and wondrous tales of war and chase 
 Were chanted by the Bards to silvern harps. 
 While Finn presided, giving gracious praise, 
 
 C78] 
 
 i^^^: 
 
THE HILL OF ALLEN 
 
 And Ossian sat and mused of Tir-na-n-og 
 (A faery land he once had visited), 
 
 A "j ^' n^' ^l^^"^^ °^ hunting the wild boar. 
 And CjoII of bloody fields whereon he strode 
 Breaking the ridge of battle ! 
 
 A 1 II . Down below, 
 
 And all about, stretched out an endless plain 
 Ut brown morass studded with silver pools 
 With here and there a patch of vivid green 
 All waste it was and empty - sad as death — 
 iNo human habitation showed in sight. 
 And ever and anon a curlew's cry 
 The voice of desolation pierced the air, 
 Ke-echoing in my soul ! 
 
 rp, . Ah, nevermore 
 
 1 hose ancient scenes that languish after them 
 
 Shall hear the heroes' laughter, or the sound 
 
 Ut the Dord Fian (the hunting-horn of Finn) 
 
 Ur see again the beauty and the grace 
 
 Of D'armhuid and of Oscar ! Long I stood 
 
 Un Allen desolate till darkness fell 
 
 And in the moaning winds I seemed to hear 
 
 Ihe baying of Finn's hounds, Skolawn and Bran 
 
 round ^""^ mighty ^shapes thronged 
 
 Spear-armed for the chase! Then rose the moon 
 Large broad, and round, like Finn's emblazoned 
 
 shield, 
 
 r^rli?^ 'l' T^"'"^"' "°""^ ^^'•^^s the sky. 
 And through the m.sts an hundred little lakes 
 1* lamed up like crucibles of molten gold' 
 
 L79l 
 
 
 ■'- 'I 
 
 'M-^^' 
 
 
T 
 
 THE CELTIC GODS 
 
 (Time A.D. 1014. McLiag, King Brian's bard sings.) 
 
 HE pagan gods are gone — in Erin now 
 Keigns the sweet, gentle Son Who died for man. 
 
 i he old war-burdened lays 
 
 Give place to hymns of praise; 
 The psaltery of Christ drowns out the Druid rann. 
 
 Midhir and Lugh are shadows of the hills- 
 Orey Mananan has stalled his demon steeds. 
 
 Young Angus and Etain 
 
 Long in the mould have lain, 
 And Aoivell in the grave no mortal whisper heeds! 
 
 The Celtic gods have passed; they could not brook 
 1 he puny wights that now men heroes call 
 
 1 hey missed lost Caoilte's grace, 
 
 Cuhoolin's mournful face. 
 And Fergus in his car, fierce trampling over all! 
 
 Deep in their caves of gold, the Fairy Race, 
 Ihe wise De Danaan, wait the Judgment Day. 
 
 1 hen shall they call on Him, 
 
 Who made their glories dim. 
 That He restore their heaven, for pride once 
 snatched away. 
 
 [So] 
 
 ;3»' wp. 
 
THE CELTIC GODS 
 
 Balor and Bres are doomed; they walk no more 
 On Almhuin or on purple Slieve-na-mon; 
 
 The Viking hosts are flown 
 
 From Toohmoon and Id rone, 
 For Odin follows fast where all the gods have 
 gone! 
 
 i 
 
 [8i] 
 
WHEN CONOR IN EMANIA REIGNED 
 
 When Conor in Emania reigned 
 
 Fair was the land to view; 
 The pictured sheen of Ulla's green 
 
 Flashed from her lakes of blue. 
 When shall the Bard, contemned, ill-starred, 
 
 Such splendors know again? 
 The sad winds rave o'er Conor's grave 
 
 And mute his Harper's strain. 
 
 When Conor in Emania reigned, 
 
 Swift armies of the Sidhe, 
 Rode on the wind, the host behind, 
 
 His dread allies to be; 
 A thousand elfin trumpets sang 
 
 His worth and kingly fame; 
 A thousand vibrant clairseachs ranp 
 
 The glories of his name. 
 
 When Conor in Emania ruled. 
 
 The radiant crown he wore. 
 Rich guerdon from the friendly sprites, 
 
 A fairy maiden bore; 
 And eke a shimmering Sword of Light 
 
 No foeman could defy, — 
 When Conor lived the world was bright 
 
 Alas! the King should die! 
 [82] 
 
591 
 
 --Z 
 
 ▼■ 
 
 ^ 
 H 
 
 OSSIANIC 
 
 1 HE Raven of Corran croaks hoarse o'er the 
 desolate plain, 
 
 Croaks loud o'er the Finian hosts that at Gabra 
 were slain! 
 
 The waves of the haven of Rinn-da-bharc roar 
 
 on the strand, 
 But ne'er shall they wash out the crimson of blood 
 
 from our land! 
 
 The oak-woods of wild Glendavall, in pain quiver 
 and toss, 
 
 But the hunters will ne'er shout again — unre- 
 deemed is our loss! 
 
 No more shall the pleasant Dord-Fiann, Finn's 
 
 bugle be heard, 
 When with baying of hounds Slieve-na-mon's 
 
 mighty forests were stirred. 
 
 All sudden o'er Leiter's dark lake does the hunt- 
 ing moon rise, 
 
 But fearful its look of red fire like a lost demon's 
 eyes! 
 
 The rustling of reeds where the sere marshes lean 
 
 toward Rath-Gree 
 Is wild with the sorrow of Earth and the grief of 
 
 the sea! 
 
 C83] 
 
OSSIANIC 
 
 Oh, why should I, Ossian, be living and these to 
 
 be gone: — 
 Great Caoiltya, and Oscar and Goll, mighty 
 
 Finn and Conawn! 
 
 Come, Death, come and lead me, I wait without 
 
 shrinking or dread - 
 We will go with the fast-dying sun to the Isles of 
 
 the Dead! 
 
 [84] 
 
 0U% 
 
 .m^ 
 

 THORSTEIN TffE BRAVE 
 
 When UHan of the Dalagais 
 
 On Clontarf's crimson plain, 
 Let loose his Celtic chivalry; 
 And his Dalcassians, dread to see, 
 With broadswords cleaving murderously. 
 Fell on the frightened Dane; 
 
 Mad panic struck the Viking ranks, 
 
 And all ti.eir mighty host 
 Staggered and swayed in terror dire. 
 Like forests filled with ravening fire,' 
 And all broke seaward, son and sire,' 
 
 To where their galleys tossed. 
 
 But when, like billows bursting bounds, 
 
 Swept on the Irish charge, 
 Thorstein, the fearless son of Hall, 
 Disdained to fly, and fronting all 
 Kmg Brian's troops — a rushing wall — 
 
 Knelt on the ocean's marge! 
 
 He knelt and tied his buskin-string. 
 
 As one whose spirit free, 
 Be-ng made of more than mortal mould, 
 ^o fear could conquer, or strike cold, 
 And on the foe his glances bold. 
 Glittered full scornfully. 
 
 C85] 
 
 ■•„^ 
 
THORSTEIN THE BRAVE 
 
 To whom spoke Kcrthial, Thomond's chief, 
 
 v\ith dripping axe in hand: 
 "How now, oh Dane? and wi!t not run 
 When all thy friends the conflict shun, 
 Like mists that fly the morning sun? 
 
 Why singly hold the strand? " 
 
 And answered Thorstein, mockingly, 
 
 With smile as when the day, 
 One moment in a wintry gleam, 
 Floods Icebnd's frozen plains that seem 
 Like seas of gl- s in evil dream — 
 
 One flash — tnen all is gray: 
 
 "Why should I run, oh chieftain brave? 
 
 My home lies far away. 
 Deep in the fo^-shrouds of the north 
 
 Where red volcanoes shake the earth 
 
 My speed would be of little A^orth. 
 
 I can't get there to-day! 
 
 "T..e long day sleeps on the Polar seas. 
 
 And the long, long night will gloom. 
 And weary of endless, day and night, 
 I welcome death in the open fight, 
 Bold foeman, strike — my heart leaps light 
 To meet a warrior's doom!" 
 
 Then Kerthial's iron face relaxed. 
 
 And his Irish eyes grew soft. 
 As when on the heights of Galtee More, 
 [86] 
 
i 
 
 I 
 
 3 
 
 TFIORSTLIN THK BRAVE 
 
 The spring snows melt, and the torrents roar. 
 And mild-eyed daisies chn« all o'er, 
 'i 'le sun-crowned slopes .iloft. 
 
 He reached a hand to th. kneeling Dane, 
 
 And raised him to his side, 
 [hen spoke: "On many a rt- i ;Ve stood 
 And felt the terrors of battle .od ~ 
 But, by St. Uride and the Holy Rood, 
 
 I clasp your hand with pride! 
 
 "For I hold him more than warrior 
 
 Who stands up, scorning all, 
 When his comrades fly in panic dread 
 And earth is rocking beneath his tread — 
 Your life I spare, and bare my head, 
 
 To Fhorstein, son of Hall!" 
 
 Then hand in nd to the Irish camp 
 
 The two grt heroes went; 
 And Thorstein tarried in Erin's land 
 First chief in Kerthial's own command — 
 Christ's yoke he took, and the Herce gods banned 
 
 ror whom his youth was spent! 
 
 Honors and high renown were his, 
 
 And when he died, a moan 
 Went up from circling shore to shore, 
 And on men's souls fell a burden sore, 
 ^o^„Death was lord of the world once more 
 When Thorstein's soul had flown! 
 C8>] 
 
 j^hi'^^m' 
 
 "JJiST 
 
 •.'-> 'A'r 
 
PRINCE MURROUGH AT CLONTARF 
 
 A FRAGMENT 
 
 HEN the Irish Chieftain, Murrough. 
 
 Viewing with half-shut eyes, 
 1 hat blinding shimmer of Danish mail, 
 Bade all his pipers skirl and wail. 
 And rouse the safFron-girded Gael 
 
 lo deeds of great emprise. 
 
 And first into the combat, he 
 
 Swung his huge axe on high; 
 And as the din of ■ ar did swell. 
 His blows of death resistless fell. 
 And many a Viking's parting yell 
 
 Kose to the ruthless sky. 
 
 Heimdal of Atlan first he slew, 
 
 And Starkad of the Yews; 
 And Vidar of the golden locks. 
 And Eyjwolf of the castled rocks. 
 And Loki of the battle-shocks. 
 
 And Gymir of the Meuse. 
 
 ^"liJ^^^S^^^rid, out of Helsingford, 
 Who burned the Virgin's shrine; 
 
 An^ R i?P' n ^' P'"^Sed Wexford town, 
 And Beld, a Baresark of renown, 
 And Thorkell, of the evil frown, 
 He split from crown to chine. 
 C88] 
 
 s^'^mrH^ 
 
 .r^- 
 
IF 
 
 PRINCE MURROUGH AT CLONTARF 
 
 Out to the Raven Standard's foot 
 
 He cleft a gory lane; 
 And as the flag of Odin fell, 
 Rose up an agonizing yell 
 From the lost Danes — like souls in hell 
 
 That drink the dregs of pain. 
 
 Then Murrough raised the Strong Hand Cry, 
 
 The call of his ancient line; 
 And left and right, and all about, 
 Answered his clansmen's rending shout, 
 As roaring over the Norseman's rout, 
 
 Thundered the troops of Brian! 
 
 i 
 
 [89] 
 
 ,? tl 
 
ANCIENT IRISH WAR SONG 
 
 (Air, The Minstrel Boy) 
 
 rvISE, men of Erin, grasp the sword 
 
 And burst upon the foeman, 
 Our war-cries oft these hills have stirred 
 
 And now we'll crouch to no man! 
 The chariots and the chargers bring 
 
 That oft to victory bore us — 
 Our blows upon their mail shall ring 
 
 While floats the Sun-burst o'er us. 
 
 On many a crimsoned field of yore 
 
 Our Gaelic slogan thundered, 
 As on their wavering van we bore 
 
 And broke their ranks all sundered! 
 By Cleena's Wave and Desmond's plain 
 
 And Shannon's surging water 
 Their pirate blood left many a stain, 
 
 Rolled back in waves of slaughter! 
 
 With Dathi brave, our fathers swept 
 
 O'er foreign lands victorious, 
 The Gaul and haughty Roman wept 
 
 To view their standards glorious! 
 Rise sons of sires renowned as they 
 
 Add lustre to their story. 
 We'll conquer in the fight to-day 
 
 Or die for Erin's glory! 
 
 Coo] 
 
 :^W^^ 
 
 
li 
 
 !| 
 
 BATTLE OF GABHRA AND DEATH 
 OF OSGAR 
 
 JDUT now the hovering shadows settled down, — 
 The glory-torches of the Fianna 
 Flickered in smoke obscure, — the end was nigh, 
 Nor could a desperate valor 'vert the doom 
 The fates had ordered. 
 
 Gabhra's dreadful day 
 Raced through the imminent future like some orb 
 Of deadliest menace thro' the fields of space. 
 
 On the high hill of Teamhair, the Ard-Righ, 
 Weaned of tithe and tribute, took resolve 
 To break the Finian power and destroy, 
 By might of arms their Order that so long 
 Had mocked his sceptre. Swift command he gave, 
 And gathered round his hall an armament 
 Of all the men of Erin, and his plans 
 Unfolded to their kings. Then word he sent 
 To comely Osgar, asking would he come 
 Unto a feast of welcome to be held 
 At Royal Teamhair. And because he feared 
 No Hving man, the valiant Osgar came 
 With scarce three hundred of his bodv-guard 
 To bear him company. Now as thev passed 
 By a lone ford, a woman of the "Sidhe" 
 Was washing clothes that bloodied all the stream! 
 
 [91] 
 
 
 ^'^^tr.im^'^rm'^ 
 
BATTLE OF GABHRA, DEATH OF OSGAR 
 
 And Osgar: "Red your washing, — dread your 
 task 
 
 Washing red garments for the gory dead!" 
 And answer made the woman of "Sidhe:" — 
 "Haughty your head, but soon shall ravens 
 croak 
 
 (When the fierce fight is done), above your corse." 
 
 On fared the Finians then and never stopped 
 lill leamhair opened them her massive gates 
 And welcome good was theirs, and lordly feast 
 1 111 three days passed, but then the King in pride 
 Demanded Osgar's spear, which he refused, 
 V^ hereat the King was wroth and threatened him 
 And words grew hot and angry 'twixt the twain,' 
 iill Usgar rose and in high dudgeon left 
 The kingly halls, and journeyed back to Finn. 
 
 Nor long was he arrived when message came 
 From the Ard-Righ that now no longer he 
 Would tribute pay to Finn, or recognize 
 The Finian power thenceforward in the land 
 Then Finn sent challenge back, and mustering 
 Ills swift battalions, marched to meet the foe. 
 
 Now fails my pen to tell of Gabhra's Field, 
 That hell of slaughter where red ravens croaked 
 O er mangled corses. Fearful was the clash 
 Of shield 'gainst shield, — the brandishing of 
 
 swords — 
 The serpent hissing of ten thousand spears 
 
 [92] 
 
BATTLE OF GABHRA, DEATH OF OSGAR 
 
 Hurtled thro' air. For every man with Finn 
 Full twenty fought with Ireland's monarch there, 
 Mighty the feats performed, and ne'er before 
 Raged such a battle on the Irish soil 
 Nor ever shall again! 'Twere hard to tell 
 What slaughter Osgar made. By him there fell 
 Five twenties from the Country of the Snow; 
 Four hundred from the Country of the Lion! 
 Of the Green Swords fell seven times twenty there! 
 And five score of the sons of warlike Kings! 
 Right weak was he with wounding when he spied 
 The great Ard-Righ before him, yet he rushed 
 Like raging billow on his foe, who wheeled. 
 And hurled a greedy spear that through and 
 
 through 
 Pierced Osgar's bosom, bringing him to knee. 
 Yet as he knelt he cast his fatal lance 
 That pierced the High King's brain and gave him 
 
 death. 
 Then in a faintness Osgar low reclined; 
 The battle ceased, for few were left to tight. 
 And the spent Finians raised a mournful "keen." 
 And Caoilte came and asked, "Oh darling heart. 
 How fares it with you now?" And Osgar said': 
 "I only die as you would have me die!" 
 Then Hfting him upon their am shields, 
 Caoilte and Oisin took the wour, d man, 
 And brought him to a round and verdant hill, 
 To strip his armor. Scarce a hand's breadth space 
 Of his white body was without its wound, 
 And the sad Finians wailed for Osgar brave, 
 
 [93] 
 
 3 
 
BATTLE OF GABHRA, DEATH OF OSGAR 
 
 Cursing the day; - till far across the plain 
 
 u/l" ' ^^""^^ ^""'^^^ ^"^ f''"" "'"'^ silent there 
 Whom Osgar saw and made salute, and said: 
 Uh! mighty Fmn, I hold my wish in death." 
 And Fmn c.ied out, "Oh, would that I were there 
 lo fall m Osgar s place, - blp-k grief is mine!" 
 1 hen Osgar, to assuage their bitter woe 
 Spoke words he meant not, and 'tis what he said: 
 
 Indeed, oh Fmn, if you were dead to-day 
 No one would hear me keening, - for no man 
 tver found any heart in me at all, 
 But heart of twisted horn with iron bound 
 And that which vexes me full sore is this: — 
 1 he howling of the dogs around me here, 
 Ihe keening cries of tough old fighting-men 
 And wailing of the women, one by one'" 
 Then Fmn made moan : " Oh, child of my own child, 
 blender and white, my sorrow 'tis that thou 
 Art stricken low! My heart is starting now 
 Like hunted deer! Oh, weak am I and sad 
 ^or thee, and for our vanquished heroes all, 
 l*or glory of the Finians passed away 
 Like mists of morning. Farewell all renown, 
 And farewell feasting now, and war and spoils, 
 for ever; happiness was ever mine 
 Has left my hands - 1 grasp at empty air. 
 My hfe is void." H J' i, 
 
 ^, Then Osgar, as he heard 
 
 Ihese hopeless words, stretched out his wounded 
 hands, 
 
 C94: 
 
R 
 
 BATTLE OF GABHRA, DEATH OF OSGAR 
 
 Closed his gray eyes, and died. And Finn went 
 
 off 
 Some distance from the rest and wept aloud, 
 And the few Finians left gave three great cries 
 Of haunting sorrow on the lonely hill! 
 
 i 
 
 53 
 
 « 
 1 
 
 [95] 
 
 ■ ' I 
 
THE DEATH OF GOLL. THE SON 
 OF MORNA 
 
 WAS in the waning of the Fenian power 
 And enmities arose 'tvvixt Goll and Finn, 
 Till one day Cairell, son of Finn, met death 
 From Goll beside the cold, ensanguined sea. 
 And Finn, when that he saw his comely son 
 Lie dead and gray and ke a blighted branch, 
 Grew white with sudden anger, and resolved 
 He would have life for life. 
 
 But Goll went off 
 Where a great cliff stretched out into the sea 
 And in a cave abode; and Finn brought here 
 A mighty host to guard the place around 
 Lest he escape. Now Goll, because he knew 
 His doom was sealed, lay on the shingly beach 
 To wait for death; and he v/ould not allow 
 Or food or drink to pass his parched lips. 
 And the sea-sand blew in his tortured eyes. 
 And from the cliff his wife called down to him: 
 "Oh, husband mine, a pity 'tis that thou 
 Shouldst wait for death upon the salty rocks 
 Beside the pitiless sea — so come to me 
 And I will nourish you to strength again, 
 For I am sick at heart to see you lie 
 Your gold hair crusted with the bitter spray." 
 But all her cries were vain, he would not stir, 
 And thus he spoke, in kindly tone withal: 
 
 [96] 
 
t ? 
 
 m 
 
 3 
 1 
 
 THE DEATH OF GOIJ. 
 
 "Oh sweet-voiced queen, 'tis better I should die; 
 I never took advice of woman yet, 
 To east or west, nor ever will I take; 
 And do not you be fretting after me, 
 Oh, queen of the white hands, — remember all 
 My gifts that make you rich, and when I die 
 Take Aodh for husband who came out of Spain, 
 The son of the best woman in the world; 
 He loves you, and it is not well for you 
 These troublous times to lack a husband's 
 strength." 
 
 He laid him down again upon the rocks 
 And after twelve days died. 
 
 And his good wife 
 Keened there for long and made lament tull sore 
 For Goll, the son of Morna, whose great fame 
 Filled all the land — he was the best but one 
 Of all the heroes in the host of Finn! 
 
 [97: 
 
OSSIAN TO ST. PATRICK 
 Patrick: — 
 
 Oh Ossian, son of Finn, though old and bent, 
 Thou art not like my clerics, calm and mild. 
 I fear me that thou dwellest in the past, 
 And ponderest over fights, and gory fields 
 Neglecting all thy prayers. 
 
 Bethink thee well 
 1 hat thou art old and likely soon to die. 
 
 Ossian: — 
 
 Oh Patrick, had you been with us to see 
 The warriors of the Fianna lead the chase 
 When the dun deer leaped swift thro' Glen-da- 
 vaul, 
 
 While baying hounds waked lonely Knoc-an-Ar — 
 Had'st heard the echoing horn upon Slieve Grot 
 r^f r^f" l^^'" P'u"ge, spear-armed, in the woods 
 Uf Clm-Mail, where the huge-branching trees 
 Made gloom as of a cloudy winter's eve, 
 ^"^.„^*\^ .^'"d's tumult mid the gnarled boughs 
 Ihrilled like the Ocean's voice when booming 
 waves 
 
 Burst in with thunder-shock at Bundatrore! 
 Or had'st thou seen, oh Patrick, gentle saint. 
 The Finians in furious battle-shock 
 Shaking the desperate fields whose gory fame 
 Rmgs o'er the ridges of the centuries: — 
 
 [98] 
 
OSSIAN 1() ST. PATRICK 
 
 Dubh-Cumair, Knucha, Mov-Muchrume the red, 
 And Gabhra where their flaring glory-torch 
 Plunged deep in blood, hissed out in rayless 
 
 gloom - - 
 Had'st thou, oh Patrick, seen such stirring things, 
 Not all too calm would shine thy holy brow." 
 
 Patrick: — 
 
 Peace! peace! old, doting man, ana tnir.k of Christ, 
 Who answered not, nor spoke an angry word, 
 When Jews and Romans nailed Him to a cross. 
 
 Ossian: — 
 
 Oh! would that Finn were there all ready armed. 
 
 With Oscar and Conawn, and close beside 
 
 A thousand of the Fianna, — they would sweep 
 
 These cruel Jews, as roaring Assaroe 
 
 Sweeps the dead leaves! 
 
 Patrick: — 
 
 Thy mind is all on strife, yet death is nigh. 
 Think on thy sins and weep for them, for He, 
 The loving Christ was sacrificed for sin. 
 
 Ossian: — 
 
 Hard is the lesson, Patrick, Saint of God, 
 1 hat I must turn my mind away from Finn, 
 From all his wars and all his hunting feats 
 And weep my sins, in fasting and in prayer! 
 
 [99] 
 
 n 
 

 CREDA'S LAMENT FOR GAEL 
 
 HEN Creda, wife of Gael, came mourning 
 there, * 
 
 And searching for the dead. And as she searched 
 bhe saw a meadow crane defend its young 
 Agamst a fox; and so she said with grief; 
 •'No wonder is it I aru s id for Gael, 
 Since the wild bird will sacri*^— its life 
 "o save its loved ones." 
 
 r> 11 J « r , ^ ^^^^ *^^"^^ Fergus there 
 
 What news of Gael.?" and Fergps answered true: 
 Ihe news I have of Gael is sad indeed; 
 He died the last of all our men to-day. 
 When all the fight was over he swam out 
 Into the salty waves, although his wounds 
 Were thick and deep, and sorely he had bled. 
 And as the last man of the enemy, 
 Finnachta Fiacloch, was leaping back 
 Into his ship, he dragged him down to death 
 In the cold sea." And by this time the waves 
 east comely Gael upon the crimsoned shore, 
 And all the searchers of the dead came there, 
 And the sad Fianna gently raised him up. 
 And Greda came and sang this mournful caoine: 
 
 C loo] 
 
 ™ ^wH 
 

 CREDA'S LAMENT FOR CAEL 
 
 "The harbor roars, the harbor roars in grief 
 For drowning of the Hero of the Lake, 
 The waves are keenin wildly on the shore! 
 
 "Full pitiful the singing of rhe thrush 
 
 In Letter Laeg — and on the Pleasant Ridge, 
 
 The blackbird mourns her nest all desolate! 
 
 "On Drium-da-lis the deer are in distress, 
 The mighty stag is calling on the doe. 
 The doe that in Slieve-Silen stretches dead! 
 
 "Full sorrowful to me the hero's death, 
 The foubled sea is dashing on the beach 
 And making heavy moan for mighty Cael! 
 
 "Full many a king in battle fell bv him. 
 
 His shu Id ne'er rrembled under rain of blows, 
 
 But now his migi.ty arm is still and cold!" 
 
 And having made lament, the anguished wife 
 tell dead of grief her husband's corse beside, 
 And in tne selfsame furrow both were laid. 
 And Caoilte raised a stone above them there 
 Graving their names in Ogam, and their tale 
 Of warhke courage, and undying love! 
 
 [loi] 
 
 i'*\"3?fiiav rt*«"v:sio.^.'f 
 
 
 ,^ ■*%!>. 
 
 "*^' li ''Vm't 
 
CUCHULAIN COMING TO THE FORD 
 
 JLiKE a fierce god the young Cuhoolin came, 
 His car of bronze swept on by furious scceds. 
 Kuddy his cheeks; his hair was raven black 
 And, 'neath his brows, hke sudden baleful fires 
 Dread eyes outgleamed. Strong spears stood by 
 his side. 
 
 His brazen belt supported a huge sword; 
 Around his neck, that like a pillar rose, 
 A torque of gold, against a safl^'ron shawl, 
 13 azed in the sunlight. Terrible to see 
 Was the great Hound of Ulster, Erin's pride, 
 ^tar ot Lmania; none might bar his path! 
 Ueath rode befoic him in a whirHng mist, 
 And all men trembled when they saw him pass, 
 Grinding the road to smoke beneath his wheels 
 And furrowing the hills! 
 
 „. Southward he sped 
 
 His horses swooping like two raiding hawks 
 trom a tall cliff upon a stormy dav; 
 Or ike the March wind over a smooth plain; 
 Ur like young stags first started by the hounds 
 Oertheir first field! 
 
 T^, , As if on flags of fire 
 
 Ihey spurned the earth that shook beneath their 
 tread! 
 
 So came Cuhoolin to the Bloody Ford 
 And faced the hosts of Connacht Maeve outspread 
 l-»ke a great sea with foamy banners flecked! 
 
 C 102] 
 
Tie, 
 
 es, 
 by 
 
 ir 
 
 OSSIAN LAMENTS FOR TIR-NA-N'OG, 
 THE LAND OF YOUTH 
 
 llOW pale and wan the sun looks out above 
 
 This world to which unwilling I returned! 
 
 How dim and haggard gleams the moon at night 
 
 Upon the mournful hills! Ah, different far 
 
 The beauty and the glow of lir-na-n'og, 
 
 Where in the day an hundred golden suns 
 
 Lit up the mellow skies and filled the vales 
 
 With magic radiance; and in the night 
 
 A thousand moons, as large as Oscar's shield, 
 
 Flecked the deep vault like stars! 
 
 The meadows there 
 Were ever vernal, filled with honeyed flowers, 
 Fragrant with musk and th\ me and asphodel. 
 And through the midst there wandered many a 
 
 stream 
 Making soft melody o'er colored sands, 
 A music void of sadness! Mighty woods 
 In which the breeze a sweet susurrus droned, 
 And happy songsters fluted all the day. 
 Stretched to the distant mountains, that in hues 
 Like tinted ivory, flung back the light! 
 
 In front a sea, of many changeful shades, 
 Now gray with mist, now purplc-hued and blue. 
 Turquoise and sapphire, amber and red gold, 
 Mirrored the skies; for never tempest came 
 
 L 103 ] 
 
OSSIAN LAMENTS FOR TIR-NA-N'OG 
 
 To plough its surface; only gentle winds 
 Hayed o er its bosom, sending wavelets in 
 lo sport and chatter on the pebbled strand! 
 
 Why did I leave that bright and pleasant land 
 
 'thTre ^'""^ ^ '' '''°'^'- ^^^ ^^•■"^'•s 
 
 Were young and tall and beautiful to see 
 And never could grow old or querulous. * 
 i-or to that isle no sadness ever came 
 Or sob of earthly weeping, r the sounds 
 Ihat spoke of mirth and joy and innocence, 
 Of hearts all free from earthly sin and care! 
 
 Tu^^u,'°'/f T '^"S unt^ the echoing groves» 
 1 he blackbird piping sweet at Leiter Laeg 
 The golden-throated thrush in Glen-na-smole, 
 Made not such jocund music, as we sang 
 Our triumph over death and pain and woe, 
 Jb or none of these could ever enter in 
 To T.r-na-n'og! The happiness and youth 
 Of never-faihng hfe, the wondrous joy 
 
 d? '^'"^'-'^^ P'^"^^ ^nd trees and 
 
 All^M^ ^he'flocks that wandered 'mid the hills - 
 All, all of this we felt and understood! 
 
 Why did I leave that fair and blessed place, 
 lo face old age and palsied limbs and death. 
 And dwell with grudging and ungentle folk? 
 It only Finn were living, all were well, 
 
 [ 104] 
 
 1 
 
H 
 
 OSSIAN LAMENTS FOR TIR-NA-N'OG 
 
 For he would clasp me to his mighty heart 
 And call his hounds, and lead a glorious chase 
 Once more through Glen-da-vall — with Oscar 
 
 there 
 And Goll, and brave Conawn — but they are dead, 
 And I am left, a withered branch that shakes, 
 Uncared, unsheltered, in the clamorous winds! 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 1 
 
 C105] 
 
 yl 
 
THE DEATH OF CUCHULAIN 
 I 
 
 lND now — for he was spent with many wars — 
 Jb.mer, Cuchulam's wife, the hero led 
 To a deep Ulster glen, remote from men 
 And from v. ar's rumors. Fair the landscape was. 
 With s umbrous, waving . ods, and plashy brooks. 
 And blossomed meadows. There the blackbird's 
 song 
 
 At morn and eve was heard, and the wild doe 
 Uayed with her fawn along the shadowy glade; 
 And on still nights chimed in the distant sea 
 Not mournfully, but as the far-off strains 
 Of faery lullabies — like magic harps 
 That crooned sweet notes of drowsy rest and sleep, 
 U old, when the De Danaan banished pain 
 After a bloody fight. 
 
 . His tent they set 
 
 Keside a pleasant stream whose ferny marge 
 .Swelled soft and green, a rest for weary eyes- 
 And there with all her household Emer hoped 
 I'or quiet days, and nights from peril free 
 VVmle the great Hound of Ulster gathered strength 
 lo front his foes once more. But Connaught 
 
 Maeve, 
 The wily queen that ruled the rugged West, 
 Unraged because Cuchulain had flung back 
 Her mighty host, and all her scheming foiled 
 
 Cio6] 
 
THE DEATH OF CUCHl LAIN 
 
 s, 
 
 Sought out his hiding place and rumors sowed 
 Within his mind, by messengers disguised. 
 How that red war had desolated all 
 His land, Muirthemne; how his hall of fame 
 Dundalgan, where his fathers dwelt of old. 
 In ashes lay. The hero then began 
 To fret his soul, desiring to depart 
 To instant strife. But Emer and her maids 
 Made shift to hold him, bidding him beware 
 The false illusions of his enemies. 
 And for a time they triumphed. Yet his sleep 
 VV'as troubled with wild dreams in which he saw 
 Long lines of fighting men who rusi. im 
 
 Shouting fierce cries; and red-beaked birv , of war 
 Croaked round his head, and spears went hurtling by 
 Like hail in winter! Then again he strove 
 To leave the quiet glen grown hateful now, 
 To his vexed mind: but Emer cried — "My lord, 
 Have patience till thy valiant friend arrives. 
 The blazing torch of valor of the Gael 
 Called Conall the Victorious. When he comes 
 Let ye go forth together — if alone 
 Thou settest out, thou goest unto death; 
 So have the Druids spoken, and the four 
 Wise men that dwell at Saimer by the sea." 
 
 II 
 
 That night Cuchulain cried aloud in sleep, 
 A mighty sea rose 'gainst him surge on surge, 
 And with his sword he dreamt he fought the waves, 
 The wild white steeds of .Mananan. He woke 
 
 [107] 
 
THE DEATH OF CUCHULAIN 
 Weary and spent, and listening in the doom 
 He heard a strange weird music wailing far 
 I he faery harp of Mananan that called 
 To stnfe and death. Sad Emer heard it too 
 And m her heart she owned her task in vam ' 
 So m the mormng, Laeg the charioteer 
 
 North '"' ''"^^ ''"^'""'^ '^'-' ^» the 
 Ph '^A P'u'"^ "•■• ^^'"^ Emer and her maids 
 
 Swoop from the mountains, so across the plain 
 
 LeanedT-'V" 't""'^^'"' ^"^ ^uchulain's h ea t 
 Leaped high with joy - the wine of battle fi led 
 H.s yearnmg soul! But as they passed th J f \i 
 A woman of the Sidhe stooped by ?h wave ^'^ 
 
 The ^^y^^tZs!^':}^^:'''''''' '''-'' 
 
 Wi"h to' al r ~~ '^"' ""'' ^°"^ ^'°^f^- that drip 
 vyith mo tal gore — sweet master, let us back 
 
 To Emer's s.de, nor tempt the chance of war 
 And certam death forboded." Thus in terr^ 
 
 ^hoit hfe with honor crowned and valiant deed. 
 
 On T"u \"^^ T '°"S ''^^ ^"d cankering sloth 
 On to the battle then!" And southward swe^t 
 The fiery steeds. As when o'er Sliabh-na-S 
 
 Cio8] 
 
I =: 
 
 THE DEATH OF CUCHULAIN 
 
 The angry sun before a hurricane 
 
 All baleful rises, glaring on the world, 
 
 Thus o'er his shield Cuchulain's countenance 
 
 Loomed dreadful, and the "Hero-Light" shone out 
 
 Above his head. 
 
 So to his last g.eat rtght 
 The matchless steeds Murhevna's Chieftain bore, 
 AVhile all beholding him, with terror quaked, 
 Crying: "Beware, the Hound of Death is come." 
 
 HI 
 
 All day the battle raged, and hundreds fell 
 Beneath Cuchulain's blows. Wide lanes he cut 
 Thro' the opposing ranks, till Maeve, the Queen, 
 Wept bitter tears, and clenched her hands in fear 
 To see her bravest champions thus laid low. 
 
 At last, in direst need she had recourse 
 Unto the sorcerers of the Danaan race, 
 Bidding them fashion spears of magic power. 
 Three spears of fatal cast; and these she gave 
 To three of her best heroes. One she gave 
 To Curoi, who was king of Munster wide. 
 And one to Ere his son. The third great spear 
 She gave to Luha of the Heavy Hand, 
 Bidding him cast with all his strength and skill. 
 Curoi cast first, and, going wide, the spear 
 Pierced through the Gray of Macha. The brave 
 
 steed 
 Tottered, and groaning, fell. Ere cast the next 
 Wounding Cuchulain lightly, and, » eyond, 
 
 [ 109] 
 
THE DEATH OF CUCHULAIN 
 
 Pinning the charioteer. Cuchulain now 
 Forgot his guard, and tried to pull the spear 
 rrom Laeg's deep wound. 
 
 ... , , Fierce Luha made his cast 
 
 And pierced the Hound of Ulster through and 
 
 through 
 With deadly barb. Now great Cuchulain knew 
 His death had come, and, rising in his seat, 
 He tried to draw the spear-shaft from his breast, 
 out tugged in vain. A silence fell around. 
 And all men watched to see the hero die. 
 The blows of battle ceased. 
 
 . . There was, near by, 
 
 A pillar stone set up in olden day, 
 By the De Danaan or the wandering Pict 
 And runed with Ogham script. To this he came, 
 i^aying he would not lie before his foes 
 Or cringe in death. He bound his girdle fast 
 Around the stone, and underneath his arms. 
 Placing his shield in front, and lifting high 
 His bloody sword in air. And thus he stood 
 
 P Mj "" ^^'^^^' "^ ^^''"'"er round his head, 
 
 rallid as when a winter sun goes down. 
 
 Till the weird lustre slowlv died away ' 
 
 And the sword fell, as fellCuchulain's head 
 
 Upon his wounded breast! Thus nobly died 
 
 Murhevna's Chieftain, glory of the Gael; 
 
 And when he died, the Three Great Waves made 
 
 moan 
 Around the coast of Erin; while the Sidhe 
 Woke with wild caoining all the mournful hills' 
 
 [no] 
 
:t 
 
 Y( 
 
 THE COMING OF LUGH 
 
 I 
 
 OUNG Lugh, Deliverer of the Danaan Race, 
 For three times seven years remained away 
 In Tir-na-n'og with Mananan MacLir, 
 And happy wa.> his stay. He raced the waves 
 Along the level strand in boyish glee; 
 He plucked enchanted apples, nectar-sweet 
 From trees with scarlet blossoms. Wondrous 
 
 birds 
 With vari-colored breasts and golden wings 
 Flew round about him. Gentle, milk-white deer 
 P rom out the woods, and black-maned lions came 
 To play with him, and strange beasts that none 
 
 else 
 Had ever seen — all gamboled with the youth, 
 So that the days passed swiftly. He forgot 
 His home in Erin, and his people there, 
 The Danaan Race, now prone beneath the heel 
 Of the misshapen Fomor and their king 
 Balor of the Evil Eye. At length one day 
 V'len Lugh had grown to manhood, Mananan 
 Bespoke him thus: — " 'Tis now thrice seven years 
 Since first I brought you here to Tir-na-n'og; 
 No gift in all that time have you received, 
 But now I bring you gifts. And then he gave 
 The Sword of Light to Lugh, who when he took 
 The Sword in hand, remembered how he had 
 
 [III] 
 
THE COMING OF LUGH 
 
 Long, long ago cried to the Irish hills — 
 "Jarewell, but some bright day I shall return." 
 1 hen turning unto Mananan he spoke- — 
 •I must go back to Erin." i\Tani.nan 
 Grew sad at this and muttered painfully: 
 
 Lugh, and will you leave this fairy land 
 Where sorrow never comes, nor age, nor death, 
 And go to Erin where you will not find 
 
 Or joy or feasting — for the Fomor thee 
 Have shorn the Danaan of their olden power, 
 Ogma their Champion they have made a slave, 
 And Angus is an outcast. Nuadha, 
 The king of all the Danaan, once so great, 
 Now boasts one lonely dun in which his folk 
 Hod secret meeting where they once were lords 
 Of land and sea. Will you forsake me here 
 And go to strangers .? " Then made answer Lugh : 
 
 1 he mountains and the rivers and the woods 
 Ot Lrin 1 remember, and if all 
 
 My blood and kin were dead, and the high seas 
 Had covered all but the bare mountain tops 
 I would go there." Then Mananan replied: - 
 
 You have the hardiness that triumph wins. 
 And now I II set you on my magic steed 
 Leading a troop as valiant as yourself; 
 My helmet I will place upon your head. 
 And you shall wear my breast-plate. Soon indeed 
 Like chaff before the winds ye shall expel 
 Ihe l^omor from fair Erin." 
 
 Now when Lugh 
 l-ut on the helmet, a great brightness shot 
 
 Cii2] 
 
;d 
 
 1 
 ii' 
 
 THE COMING OF LI GH 
 
 Into the sky, as If another sun 
 Mad risen. When the hrcast-plate covered him 
 There swelled thro' all the land of fir-na-n'og 
 A mighty wave of music. When he leaped 
 Upon the steed of Mananan, thet" rushed 
 A great wind by him, and a gallaiit foop. 
 Rode by his side, 'iheir horses were like snow. 
 And gladness that the years could not erase 
 Beamed from their faces. Then they rode away 
 Across the sea, and soon the Three Great Waves 
 Of Erin welcomed them with thundrous voice: — 
 The Wave of Rury, and The Wave of Tuagh, 
 And the long, foaming creast of Cliodhna's VVave, 
 
 II 
 
 No man of Erfn saw the enchanted troop 
 
 Coming to land; for where they went ashore 
 
 A deep, dark wood of pine trees fringed the sea. 
 
 Silent they rode between the tall straight trees 
 
 Till in the forest's heart Lugh gave command: — 
 
 "Rest here till morning, I must go alone 
 
 Unto the Dun of Nuadha the King 
 
 For news of all my kinsfolk. He put off 
 
 His shinmg armor, and put on a cloak 
 
 Sombre and black. He then set out on foot 
 
 And came at evening to the royal dun. 
 
 Ihree times he struck the brazen door, whose 
 
 guard 
 Spake from within: "No man can enter here 
 But one who is the master of some craft; 
 What can you do.= " "1 am a carpenter." 
 
 [113] 
 
IHE COMING OK LUGH 
 
 And answer made the guardian of the door: — 
 
 We have a carpenter already here, 
 Luchtar the son of Luachaid/' Then said Luirh: 
 
 I have the craft of smith." "VVc have with. - 
 eolum, a smith, and master of his trade " 
 
 1 have thecraft of Champion," pleaded Lu^h. 
 
 We have here O^ma, Champion of the World " 
 I hen Lugh : - '• I am a harper of renown." 
 
 T f ''''•^^^'^'■*^ ^b*^*^^"' s"n '>f" iiicelmos, 
 in tar-.;tt loomoon of the Fairy Hills 
 Chosen by all the men of the thrc- .rods " 
 Lugh spoke again: - "I have tl,. noble craft 
 Of poet and historian." "We have here 
 trc son of Ethaman, a poet true " 
 Said Lugh: - "I am a wizard and physician." 
 
 VVe have the great physician Dian Cecht, 
 And wizards and magicians by the score." 
 1 have the craft of cupbearer," said Lugh. 
 Nine cupK.a^. s we h.,ve within the dun.' 
 1 am a brazier working brass and gold." 
 We have the famous brazier, Credne Cerd." 
 Then Lugh cried out: - "Go, ask your Danaan 
 king 
 
 If he has ONE man who knows all these trades 
 If so I will not enter." Then went off 
 1 he Keeper of the Door to Nuadha; — 
 
 A .k'M'i ^ ^r^:r' -^'^"''^ ^^^^ ^f ^"ds outside; 
 As the Ildanach, Master of All Crafts 
 
 He seeks admittance." "Open then to him," 
 
 baid Nuadha, "I wish to see this youth." 
 
 1:114] 
 
 ■kJ.\9& 
 
TIIK COMING OK LL(JH 
 
 III 
 
 Lugh passed into the dun, wliili.' O^mn gn/ed 
 With eautT looks upon him, for he thou^hr 
 To test the youth in feats. And so he stooped 
 And hftinjj; a ^reat stone he cast it far 
 Out thro' the open door, and past the fosse — 
 The effort of a ^iant. Then went laifjh 
 And cast the mighty stone back to its place. 
 Not through the door, but through the dun's 
 
 strong wall! 
 And Ogma said: — "Your cast has beaten mine; 
 Sit in the champion's seat, before the king. 
 And let the chess be brought." They played, 
 
 and Lugh 
 Won every game. Then Nuadha, the king: — 
 " Fruly you are Ildanach, I would fain 
 Hear music of your making, but we have 
 No harp to offer you." "I see one here," 
 Said Lugh, "a iiarp full worthy of my skill." 
 And answer made the king: — "That is the harp 
 Played by the Dagda, and no hand but his 
 Can play upon it, for its magic spell 
 Makes all the seasons blossom and decay." 
 But Lugh said: — "I will play upon this harp." 
 So it was given to him. 
 
 And first he played 
 Music of life and joy, whereat, outside, 
 1 he birds began to sing a morning song 
 As though the su -e rising, and the dew 
 
 Lay light upon the , ^-s. And from the sward 
 
 [ 115 J 
 
;^js^sm<L^M^:M 
 
 m.z^. 
 
 THE COMING OF LUGH 
 
 Sprang crimson flowers, waving in the breeze, 
 
 Touching each other with a faery sound, 
 
 Like silver bells. Then those inside the dun 
 
 Felt laughter in their hearts and subtle joy 
 
 And gladness they had never felt before, 
 
 So that they wished the sound would never cease. 
 
 And they might die a-listening! Then he played 
 
 The music of the sorrow of the world. 
 
 And grief and tears possessed the souls of all. 
 
 They leaned their heads upon their hands, and 
 
 wept, 
 And all the weight and burden of their lives 
 Fell on them till they prayed for death's surcease. 
 Outside, they heard a lonesome wind make moan 
 And where the grass and twinkling flow'rs had been 
 They saw a dark and leaden sea whose waves 
 Made woesome sound, like mourners clapping 
 
 hands 
 While all the stars grew dim. 
 
 The harper paused 
 And then he played the music of sweet peace, 
 And o'er the ( arth there fell what seemed like snow 
 That settled flake by flake, and on the grass 
 Turned into crystal dews. Thus flake by flake 
 The quiet of the Land of Silver Fleece 
 Settled upon the minds of all men there. 
 And sorrow they forgot; they closed their eyes 
 And each slep* in his seat. Then Lugh laid by 
 The magic harp and stole from out the dun 
 With noiseless feet. The magic snow still dropt 
 And on his shoulders shone like silver scales; 
 
 [ii6] 
 
M m 
 
 ^y^^^'A 
 
 d 
 id 
 
 e. 
 m 
 
 'g 
 
 IV 
 
 I 
 
 THE COMING OF LUGH 
 
 And on the thick bronze curlings of his hair 
 It flashed hke jeweled fire and tilled the air 
 With gracious radiance. 
 
 So Lugh went back 
 Jnto his young companions in the wood. 
 And drowsy night enshadowed Usna's Hill. 
 
 IV 
 
 The sun had risen in the morning sky 
 
 When the De Danaan woke withm the dun; 
 
 Joyous and glad they were, and what had passed 
 
 They deemed to be a strange and wondrous dream. 
 
 And Nuadha the king spoke cheerfully: — 
 
 " Ihe Fomor have not quenched God's blessed sun. 
 
 Let us go out and make on Tsna's height 
 
 A valiant stand. " Fhey took their weapons then 
 
 And marched to Usna's Hill; nor were they long 
 
 Upon its summit ere the Fomor came 
 
 And jeered at them, and bade them all descend 
 
 And bow before their masters. But the king 
 
 Cried out, "We will not bow before you hence, 
 
 For ye are vile and ugly, nor are ye 
 
 Our lords, or lords of Erin from this day." 
 
 Then with hoarse shouts the fierce P'omorians 
 Attacked the hill, and Nuadha withstood 
 With dauntless front that first terrific charge. 
 But as their weapons clashed a blinding light 
 Appeared on the horizon, and the sound 
 Of screaming battle trumpets cleft the air. 
 No man could gaze upon that radiance 
 
 C117] 
 
>i.-A.:^ 
 
 is^mM^i^KKmrn^^t^^i^sags^msi^mm- i 
 
 • I 
 
 ■^^ 
 
 .:t^-* 
 
 THE COMING OF LUGH 
 
 As crimson streamers shot into the skies. 
 Then cried the Fomorr — "Tis a second sun 
 Rising to bhnd us; but the Danaan said: — 
 "Young Lugh is ^ ming — The DeHverer." 
 And out of that great hght the fairy troop 
 From Tir-na-n'og came riding, At their head 
 Rode Lugh, with flaming helmet and cuirass, 
 And Mananan's white charger he bestrode, 
 Bare in his hand the awful Sword of Light 
 Burned as he swoopt upon the Fomor lines. 
 
 As falls the swift sea-eagle on his prey. 
 Or as the jagged lightning strikes a tree 
 And burns and blasts it; as the stubble dry 
 In droughty autumns is consumed by fire, 
 So did the warriors from Tir-na-n'og 
 Destroy the Fomor until only nine 
 Were left alive. Then Lugh said to the nine: - 
 " Bow down and show obeisance to the king, 
 And to the Danaan Race, for they are lords 
 Of ye and of all Erin. Then go hence 
 To Tir-Fo-Tonn the Land of Under Wave 
 And say to Balor of The Evil Eye, 
 Your Fomor monarch, that the Danaan Race 
 Have taken back their own, and will wage war 
 Against the Fomor till not one is left 
 Of his misshapen brood to darken earth 
 With their foul shadows." 
 
 Then Lugh lifted up 
 The Sword of Light, and chanted a wild rann, 
 While lightnings crackled on his weapon's edge 
 
 [ii8] 
 
.^^^.s,^^ 
 
 '»^ii. ^mi 
 
 THE COMING OF LUGH 
 
 And all the air was filled with singing birds, 
 Red blossoms covered all the naked trees, 
 And flowers strewed the fields. The Danaan folk 
 Shouted rejoicing till the forests shook. 
 And all the seas of Erin heard that shout, 
 And all the stars flung back the name of Lugh! 
 
 ir 
 
 ;e 
 
 C"93 
 
 
-iim^m.i-y^9,. 
 
 Ri 
 
 MARCH OF THE ULTONIANS 
 
 (A fragment from the Cuchulain Saga) 
 
 .ESTED at Slane the Army of the West, 
 And slumber wrapped the camp; — but 'in his 
 
 sleep 
 Cormac Conlongas started from his couch, 
 Graspmg his axe, and babbling that he saw 
 A field red-heapt with slaughter! After that 
 Dubhtach, the "Ulster Beetle," cried aloud. 
 The two had dreamt of strife, and soon would 
 
 sound 
 The stormy clash of shields. 
 
 Then fell o'er all 
 Uneasy fear, and banished was their sleep 
 Now when the morning broke, King Ailell spoke: 
 
 Cuailne and Ulster we have harried long. 
 While the great Northern armies lay entranced, 
 O ercome by Druid spells, and Conchobar 
 Moaned in his troubled dreams. Good share of 
 
 spoils 
 We carry with us from their plundered lands; 
 Now IS It time that homeward to Magh Ai 
 Our chariots turned; but ere we westward wheel, 
 Glance let us take across the Meathian plain 
 In search of foeman; for 'tis surely meet 
 A King should combat, nor all times retreat." 
 Then forth they sent the herald, keen MacRoth, 
 Who climbed a nearby hill and searched afar 
 
 C120] 
 
MARCH OF THE ULTONIANS 
 
 With eagle eye; — and so^n there came a noise 
 Like falling of the skies upon the land, 
 Or roaring o^ the ocean bursting bounds, 
 Or myriad mighty trees that crashing down 
 In wintry tempest make the forests shake! 
 Then back he went to Ailell and to Mave, 
 Telling his story, and they quick enquired: — 
 "What else hast seen? And answer made Mac- 
 Roth:— 
 "I saw a gray mist far across the plain, 
 And a white flurry like the falling snow, 
 And through the mist what looked like sparks of 
 
 fire. 
 Or the cold stars upon a frosty night." 
 
 Then Ailell unto Fergus — "Famed MacRoy, 
 Unfold to us the meaning of those signs." 
 And Fergus said: "The mist was rolling dust 
 Before the march of Ulster; — what seemed snow 
 Was foam flakes from their champing horses' bits. 
 Tossed by the breeze of motion; and the stars 
 Fierce gleaming of ten thousand angry eyes 
 'Neath brazen helmets." 
 
 Then spoke Connacht Mave: — 
 "Light do we reckon them, for we have here 
 Strong fighting-men to stem that raging tide! 
 Let them come on, Cuchulain at their head! 
 Their charge shall crumble on our Connacht line 
 Like the hoarse seas upon our Western shore; — 
 Form ranks, and let a thousand warpipes play 
 The 'Graves of Inver,' Ulster's funeral march!" 
 
 C121] 
 
 sar 
 
iktt 
 
^■^ 
 
 ^km 
 
THE OGHAM PILLAR-STONE 
 
 It stands upon a slope of Western shore 
 Where lonely winds caress it day and night; 
 The evening shadows and the morning light 
 Strike on its rune-lined angles, and the roar 
 Of the near sea — whose billows evermore 
 Surge in — makes music round its ancient 
 
 site! 
 The curlew, caUing sadly in his flight, 
 Utters his plaintive anthem o'er and o'er! 
 
 Aeons have passed and left no mark or trac,- 
 Since this mysterious monument was raised; 
 
 Firbolg and Fomor and the Danaan race 
 Have gazed upon these symbols, sore 
 amazed; 
 
 Still do they mutely question earth and sky, 
 
 And but the Druid winds give heed and sigh! 
 
 [1253 
 
THE HURLER 
 
 (This sonnet is dedicated to Rlchatd " Dt ur "Walsh, Mwn- 
 itriK, to Tom Semple, of Thurlts, and to James Kellihtr, of Dun- 
 
 dha 
 
 Kourncy.) 
 
 Ui 
 
 _' PON his native sward the Hurler stands 
 To play the ancient pastime of the Gael, 
 And all the heroes famed of Innisfail 
 Are typified in him — I see the bands 
 Of the Croabh Ruadh applauding with their hands, 
 The Fianna shouting over Cliu Mail — 
 Oisin and Finn with eager faces pale, 
 Caoilte and GoU are there from fairy lands 
 
 And fierce Cuchulain "omes — his godlike face 
 With yearning wild to grip in hand once more 
 The lithe camawn and drive the hurtling ball. 
 In Walsh's, Kelliher's and Semple's grace 
 He sees again his glorious youth of yore 
 And mourns his dead compee nd Ferdia's 
 fall. 
 
 [126] 
 
 Tfi?^/,' 
 
 .-*'>-:4..^L,.kiM-,. 
 
KILLARNEY 
 
 Fair Erin's guardian Spirit lingers here 
 Beneath the shadow of these purple hills: 
 She sings beside those ever-brimnung rills. 
 
 And mirrors in those lakes the smile and tear; 
 
 Here, hand-in-hand with Beauty, all the year. 
 She answers back sweet Echo's voice that thrills 
 Th' impassioned dawn, when Erin's music Hlls 
 
 The vales with sounds that haunt th' enraptured 
 
 ear! 
 
 Long have her songs to minor chords been set. 
 And sadness was their theme; but now no more 
 
 Shall past defeats her bouyant spirit fret. 
 
 Or clouds oppress her from the night of yore; 
 
 But, like Killarney's waters glad an free, 
 
 Her soul shall leap to mee- the years to be! 
 
 [127] 
 
THE VIKINGS 
 
 1 HEIR long ships, hungry for the sportive wave, 
 
 Lay on the beach; and so they left their fields. 
 
 And ringed them with a thousand brazen 
 
 shields. 
 
 Then sought the Orkney coasts where wild seas 
 
 rave 
 And tempests mar o'er many a Norseman's 
 
 grave 
 
 Thence down on Britain's fertile shores they 
 
 swept. 
 Where goodly towns and shires their prowess 
 
 wept. 
 While golden spoils they took, and trappings brave. 
 
 Raid after raid on England's strands they made 
 And Ireland's plains; but soon the reckoning 
 came. 
 When Brian in his tent at Clontarf prayed, 
 
 And his brave army, like a searing flame, 
 Smote them and hurled them from fair Erin's 
 
 shore 
 And whelmed their raven flag forevcrmore! 
 
 V 
 
 [128] 
 
THE ROUND TOWER OF DEVENISH 
 
 ISL\n^D 
 
 ^VhO builded thee in the far-distant past, 
 And set thee on this bleak and barren shore, 
 To hear for aye the ocean's solemn roar. 
 
 And quiver, harp-like, to the mournful blast? 
 
 Around thy grim stones fairy spells are cast, 
 And when the lambent moon her silver store 
 Of beams has scattered on thine earthen floor, 
 
 Strange elves come there and dance in measure 
 fast! 
 
 But when White Dawn comes stealing like a ghost. 
 She sees thee as a hoary Druid crowned 
 
 With misty mantle. All along the coast 
 
 Glad waves rush in with tribute, vestal-gowned; 
 
 Once more thy dialed shadow points the way, 
 
 And thine own sun god greets his temple gray. 
 
 [129] 
 
TARA 
 
 LOW, round hill with earthen mounds o'er- 
 spread. 
 Covered with waving grass and purpling heath, 
 Looks down upon the rolHng plains of Meath — 
 And this is Tara — all its glory fled — 
 Here Kings and Chieftains met in muster dread, 
 And famous champions sought the victor's 
 
 wreath, 
 While music from the pulsing harp did breathe 
 To laud the living and extol the dead! 
 
 Now sounds no harp by Tara's crumbling walls; 
 
 Like Tyre and Nineveh in dust it sits, 
 The plaintive curlew o'er it sadly calls. 
 
 And the gray bat above its ruin flits; 
 But when the midnight wind makes mournful 
 
 sigh. 
 Then ghosts of mighty heroes gather nigh 1 
 
 [130] 
 
FINGAL'S CAVE 
 
 Here where the furious ocean rushes in 
 From wild Tiree and desolate Skerryvore, 
 Shaking with thunder all that iron shore, 
 
 Drowning t'.ie sea birds' cries with deafening din, 
 
 Nature has built a monument to Fin, 
 
 The son of Cool. And thro' its open door 
 Tho' wave and wind shall batter evermore, 
 
 Never his fortress can they hold or win. 
 
 So is it with the spirit of the Gael: 
 Tho' all the jealous nations should conspire 
 
 In angry onslaught, they shall ever fail 
 To break its purpose or to quench its fire; 
 
 The earth shall rock, the sun in heaven grow pale 
 Ere Gaelic strength and chivalry retire. 
 
 FRDfTEO IN THB WNITED STATES 0» AMEKICA 
 
 C131]