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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