THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 i^y 
 
 'H
 
 DUNBOY, 
 AND OTHER POEMS
 
 DUN BOY, 
 
 AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 BY 
 
 TIMOTHY DANIEL O'SULLIVAN. 
 
 DUBLIN: 
 
 JOHN F. FOWLER, 
 
 3 CROW STREET. 
 
 MDCCCLXI.
 
 J F FOWl.F.n, rniNTEB. 
 
 o CROW 8TRKKT, 3 CROW STREET, 
 
 DUDLIX.
 
 TO THE READER. 
 
 It may be well to inform the reader, in this place 
 that the incidents in the poem of Dunboy are 
 historical, not imaginaiy. The poem is written 
 chiefly from the account of the siege given in 
 the Pacctta Hihernia, than which no fuller or 
 more detailed account is extant. To found on 
 the fortimes of Donal O'Sullivan and his famUy 
 an interesting historical romance, would be a 
 noble and a patriotic work — one which has been 
 suggested in one of his speeches by the illustrious 
 O'Connell — but the writer of the following poem 
 has not attempted to do more than versify an 
 existing authentic narrative, adding merely such 
 minor details as may be supposed to have accom- 
 panied the graver events set down in history. 
 
 Dublin, November 16, 18G0. 
 
 ^^y^CM^y^-fi^'i
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 
 
 
 Page 
 
 t)UNBOV, 
 
 1 
 
 Fisherman's Prayer, 
 
 . 113 
 
 A Soldier's Wake, 
 
 « 
 
 . 
 
 
 115 
 
 Steering Home, 
 
 
 
 
 . 116 
 
 To my Brother, 
 
 
 
 
 118 
 
 Westward, Ho! 
 
 
 
 
 . 120 
 
 A Serenade, 
 
 
 
 
 . 121 
 
 The Little Wife, 
 
 
 
 
 . 122 
 
 A Winter Niglit, 
 
 
 
 
 . 125 
 
 The Little Barque, 
 
 
 
 
 . 126 
 
 Home! Home! 
 
 
 
 
 . 128 
 
 Song from the Backwoods, 
 
 
 
 
 . 130 
 
 The Irish American, 
 
 
 
 
 . 132 
 
 Far Away, 
 
 
 
 
 . 135 
 
 The Old Exile, 
 
 
 
 
 k 136 
 
 The Green Flag, 
 
 
 
 
 . 139 
 
 Michael Dwyer, 
 
 
 . 
 
 
 . 140 
 
 Theobald Wolfe Tone, 
 
 
 
 
 . 143 
 
 Perturbations, 
 
 
 
 
 . 145 
 
 A Valentine, 
 
 
 
 
 . 147 
 
 My Poetess, 
 
 
 
 
 . 150
 
 DUNB Y. 
 
 Tread where we may on Irish ground, 
 
 From Antrim's coast to wild Cape Clear, 
 From East to West, no view is found 
 Without some ruin, rath, or mound 
 
 To tell of times that were ; 
 Some lone round tower, yet strong and tali, 
 
 Though swept by many a wasting age ; 
 Some wayside Cross, or abbey wall, 
 
 AYith marks of man's unholy rage ; 
 Some graven slab, or giant stone, 
 
 Notched with old signs and legends dim, 
 Some hallowed nook, with green o'ergrown, 
 
 Or mouldering castle, bare and grim. 
 Initial letters, all and each, 
 
 Of many a wild and curious story, 
 Mute tongues, that, silent, ever preach 
 
 Of Ireland's past of grief and glory.
 
 2 DCNBOV. 
 
 Oft at the crimson set of day 
 
 I've gazed upon some war-worn pile, 
 And divamcd 'twas life-blood ebbed away 
 
 Through those red chinks that gleamed the while. 
 Oft Avhen the night came dark and cold, 
 
 I've sat upon the weed-grown floor, 
 WHiere once the Avhite-haired harper told 
 Of gallant deeds to clansmen bold ; 
 At last, where battle-thunder rolled, 
 
 And foemcn slipped in gore. 
 The scene is changed — no shout, no cheer. 
 No din of combat meets the ear, 
 
 No rafters ring to music now ; 
 On the damp hearth the cliill rain falls, 
 
 Stout ash trees grow within the halls, 
 And in an angle of the walls 
 
 The peasant stores his idle plough. 
 
 But most I loved a wreck that crowned 
 
 A bright green bank, whose rocky base 
 The blue tide circled half way round 
 
 As if 'twould clasp in fond embrace. 
 And sever from less honoured ground. 
 
 The glorious soil, the halloAved place. 
 Yet few, upon that grassy heap. 
 
 The marks to bid a stranger know 
 A castle's wood and stones lie deep, 
 And weapons rust, and heroes sleep. 
 
 Its cloak of glistening green below.
 
 DUNBOY. 
 
 Of one square tower the shattered butt 
 
 Alone arrests the gazer's eye, 
 The ruins of a peasant's hut 
 
 Above the earth might stand as liigh ; 
 The hollow where a trench had been 
 
 Is rounded like a summer wave, 
 The ruined breastwork Hfts the green 
 
 No higher than a baby's grave — 
 
 Dunboy ! Dunboy ! the proud, the strong, 
 The Saxon's hate and trouble long. 
 All Ireland's hope, Momonia's boast, 
 The pride of Beara's iron coast — 
 These grass-gro^vn heaps, this crumbUng wall, 
 This low green ridge — can these be aU 
 That war and time have left to tell 
 Wliere, long assailed, and foughten well. 
 Thy lofty turrets crashing fell ? 
 
 s 
 
 No more remains ; he seeks no more, 
 
 Who knows the story of the past ; 
 He looks to find no stair or door, 
 No loop-holed frontage by the shore, 
 
 With shade into the water cast ; 
 But o'er the wreck his reverent eyes 
 
 BuUd up the picture from his brain, — 
 Walls, turrets, roofs, in thought arise, 
 
 And Beara's flag flies out again.
 
 4 DUNBOT. 
 
 A firm built pile, of simple sliapc, 
 
 One plain square hall and slender tower, 
 Dunboy stood on the rocky cape. 
 
 The central sign of Beara's power. 
 No threatening works its base enwound, 
 
 No cunning fences flanked the way, 
 Its outworks were the hills around, 
 
 Its ditch, a l)lue slip off the bay. 
 Stretching along for many a mile. 
 Shut in by one long mountain isle, 
 
 AVhosc points approached the land so nigh, 
 That Beara's watchful men would strain 
 Across the strait a heavy chain 
 
 When hostile ships would boldly try 
 To force an entrance from the main. 
 But calm and bright the lake-like sheet 
 
 Beneath those rough hills ever smiled. 
 When fierce waves on^the sea coast beat, 
 
 Wlien winds were howling high and wild, 
 And madly tossed the sea-ward fleet, 
 Each vessel in that safe retreat 
 
 Rocked like the cradle of a child. 
 Brown sailors, weary of the sea 
 
 Of summer calm and ^vinter gale. 
 Would often say 'twas sweet to be 
 
 The chief of that secluded vale, 
 The o^vner of that castle tall, 
 
 The lord of harbour, plain, and hill, 
 With clansmen ready at a call 
 
 To work their master's lightest will.
 
 DUNBOY. 
 
 But not a ship upon the sea 
 
 Nor town nor tower upon the shore 
 Obeyed a chief more brave than he 
 
 Whose honoured flag that castle bore,— 
 O'Sullivan, the Prince of Beare 
 
 And Bantry of the spacious bay — 
 A name his foemen heard with fear, 
 
 But loved by all who owned his sway ; 
 One of the proud Eugenian line 
 
 Of Heber's blood, from Eoghan sprimg, 
 Shoots of the grand old Spanish vine' 
 
 By scholars traced and poets sung. 
 
 Brave Donal ! foes and traitors knew 
 
 His spirit high, and feared it too ; 
 
 While young or old, the poorest man, 
 
 Matron or maid, amongst his clan, 
 
 "Wliose cause Avas good, whose claim was just, 
 
 In his true heart might safely trust, 
 
 And ask from his superior might 
 
 Support and succour for the right. 
 
 Strong -boned, but spare of flesh was he. 
 
 As slight trees grow beside the sea. 
 
 Yet tall and straight ; his stately form 
 
 Seemed well inured to sun and storm. 
 
 His face was thin, his light brown hair 
 
 Half hid a forehead smooth and fair ; 
 
 Fast'came his thoughts whene'er he spoke. 
 
 From his blue eyes qmck flashes broke ;
 
 O DUNTJOY. 
 
 But wliilu he mused, or walked alone, 
 
 His features took another tone, 
 
 And slow of step he moved along, 
 
 Like one inwrapt in love or song. 
 
 Yet ever in that manly breast 
 
 The passion ruling all the rest, 
 
 The source to which his thoughts returned, 
 
 The central fire that in him burned. 
 
 By life's own forces fed and fanned. 
 
 Was pure love of his native land. 
 
 Fit chieftain he his clan to sway 
 
 From that tall castle by the bay. 
 
 Whose firm and well embattled front 
 
 Seemed built to bear war's fiercest brunt, 
 
 Yet whose broad halls Avere warm and bright 
 
 With music, laughter, love, and light, 
 
 Whose strong walls held a quiet nook 
 
 Where stood the Cross and holy Book, 
 
 Where bended knees and reverent feet 
 
 By night and day the flooring trod, 
 Whence many a prayer, in accents sweet 
 
 Went through the turrets up to God. 
 
 Stem Donal ! many a care and pain 
 Tried that great soul, that brilliant brain : 
 Rude shocks of war, and subtler art, 
 Broke vainly on that gallant heart, 
 
 And only proved, when all was done, 
 A patriot pure and true till death
 
 DUNBOy. 
 
 A hero to liis latest breath 
 
 Was Beara's Prince, O'Sullivan. 
 
 A scene of peace was Beara's vale 
 For months, and years, while through " the Pale", 
 Along our northern mountam chains, 
 ■And o'er our fertUe midland plains. 
 The war for faith and freedom, waged 
 By gallant Hugh O'Neill, had raged. 
 Eiver and fort and pass had seen 
 The routed troops of England's queen 
 Bleed, gasp, and drown, or fly the land 
 'Till death or distance hid from view 
 The Banner of the Blood-Red Hand, 
 
 And hushed the shout " Lamh Dearg Abu !" 
 And many a fierce and bloody raid 
 The Avell-armed Saxon troops had made ; 
 Oft had they swept, in barbarous ire. 
 O'er towns and fields with sword and fire, 
 Left where they passed but trampled la\vns. 
 And blackened fields, and empty bawns. 
 The flames of village roof-trees showed 
 The way then- ruthless forces went ; 
 Dismantled churches marked their road 
 With many a mournful monument.
 
 o nu'NBor. 
 
 Disease, and Irish swords, cut down 
 
 Tht'lr niuks, but iVcsh iuviiders came ; 
 Their cruel queen would lose her crown, 
 
 Or win at last the bloody game. 
 Yet dared the bold O'Neill to cope 
 
 With all her world-known wealth and might ; 
 In Irish anns he placed his hope, 
 With succour from the holy Pojje, 
 
 And Spain's good King, to aid the right. 
 Gladly the looked-for help was given — 
 
 The Royal Pontiff blest the cause, 
 And prayed the choicest grace of Heaven 
 On those brave men to battle driven 
 
 For Christ's pure faith and Erin's laws. 
 Deep chests of gold King Philip sent 
 With notice of his fixed intent 
 To aid the strife as 'twere his own, 
 Not with his steel or gold alone — 
 A portion of his army brave, 
 
 Full well equipped and nobly led, 
 WoiUd soon be speeding o'er the wave 
 
 To join the native force, he said. 
 And SAveep the isle, from coast to coast 
 Free of the savage Saxon host. 
 
 'Twas blessdd news — a tale of joy, 
 It filled the land, it reached Dunboy; 
 'Twas told by many a peasant's hearth 
 WLile young and old were circled round.
 
 DUNBOT. 
 
 And many a Avar-like wisli had birth, 
 
 And many a heai't would gladly bound, 
 As great King Philip's praise was rung 
 In rich rolls of the Irish tongue. 
 Upon the hills 'twas argued o'er 
 
 "Wlien clansmen, friends, or neighbours met, 
 'Twas long discussed on sea and shore, 
 
 By fishers tending boat and net. 
 The very crones, low bent and old. 
 
 Talked bravely of the mighty King, 
 In flowing periods proudly told 
 His men, his ships, his store of gold. 
 
 The force the promised fleet would bring, 
 To win again the Irish lands 
 From out the robber Saxons' hands, 
 And chase from off" the Irish sod 
 Those murderers of the saints of God. 
 
 So spoke his people one and all. 
 
 So swelled the voice of hut and hall, 
 
 When pacing slow, one summer day, 
 
 Before his castle, by the tide 
 The Prince of Beara paused to say 
 
 To gallant clansmen at his side — 
 " Our country calls ! why dream we here ? 
 
 Her cries have pierced beyond the main 
 Why linger midst the hUls of Beare 
 
 While aids arrive from distant Spain,
 
 10 DUNBOT. 
 
 "Wlicn ho who sits where Peter sate, 
 
 Ilulding within his saintly hands, 
 The keys of Heaven's eternal gate, 
 
 Has blest our patriot Irish bands, 
 And cheered with like rewards, their work. 
 
 Who fight the Saxon and the Turk ?* 
 Up ! up ! my men, but yestere'en 
 
 My fastest craft brought in the tale — 
 The Spaniard's stately ships were seen 
 
 Within the harbour of Kinsale; 
 From their huge sides unto the shore 
 
 Brave soldiers by the hundred went, 
 And to each fort a goodly store 
 
 Of all the needs of war was sent. 
 Come let us call from hill and coast 
 
 All Beare and Bantry's figliting men. 
 And haste to join that gallant host, 
 
 VTiw raise our country's hopes again ! 
 What though in London's gloomy tower 
 
 Desmond and brave MacCarthy pine,' 
 And Munster's boldest chieftains cower, 
 Before Carew's and Thomond's power, 
 
 The grander cause is yours and mine ! 
 No boon, no gift we own to day 
 
 From the fierce Queen of England's hands : 
 We spurn her peace, we cast away 
 
 Her patent for ovir fathers' lands,* 
 And read our rights, not from her scrolls, 
 But on our swords and in our soids !
 
 DUNBOY. 11 
 
 Come let us forth : whoe'er may fail 
 
 Wlioe'er may falter or delay, 
 We join the camp before Kinsale — 
 
 What do my tmsty clansmen say ?" 
 
 They answered loud, the words he spoke 
 Glad echoes in their hearts awoke ; 
 They loved to meet their couutiy's foes 
 
 On battle fields, -with axe and lance, 
 As maidens, blooming like the rose, 
 
 Loved the sweet song and merry dance. 
 A foul and loathsome tlung, they said, 
 
 The traitor's heart must ever be, 
 The wretch whose life it feeds, must 
 dread 
 
 To look Avithin himself and see : 
 And Uttle purer is his heart 
 
 Wlio hears his country's battle cry — 
 
 Wlio sees her red strife raging nigh — 
 Yet cowers and shrinks and stands apart, 
 
 Irresolute, afraid to die ; 
 Or who -with fiu'tive eye looks on 
 
 And marks the fortunes of the fight. 
 Prepared, when all is lost and won. 
 
 To join the victor, wrong or right — 
 Ready to worship fraud and guilt ; 
 
 Or should they fail, as qiiick to claim 
 A glory m the bright blood spilt 
 
 In truth's good cause, in freedom's name.
 
 13 DL'>TJOT. 
 
 The chieftain's face with pleasure glowed 
 As towards his castle gate he strode, 
 But darkened with a shade of thouglit 
 
 As, drawing near the loop-holed walls, 
 Sweet tones the channdd breezes brought 
 
 In full soft swells and gentle falls. 
 He knew her voice — his Eileen fair ! 
 
 He felt its harp-like ripples run, 
 He knew the wild, yet plaintive air 
 
 That hushed to sleep his darling son. 
 "Heaven guard", he said, "my lights of life. 
 My children dear, my gentle wnfe ! 
 God save young Donal ! may he be 
 A Prince in Erin glad and free, 
 A chief of fame on land and sea ! 
 Yoimg Donal, were I asked to-day, 
 To look my whole life through, and say. 
 Since first a human utterance stirred 
 
 My heart with news of joy or woe, 
 "WHiat was the happiest tale I heard, 
 
 I'd 0A\ni 'twas said five years ago 
 In that short speech, that simple one, 
 That told me of your birth, my son. 
 God keep us ! times of change are these — 
 A Prince one day, the next day sees 
 A houseless wanderer, robbed and banned. 
 With strangers fattening on his land ; 
 For only those who bend and bow 
 To foreign churls are nobles now —
 
 DUNBOY, 
 
 13 
 
 But He who reads my spirit, knows 
 I'd rather see my name and race 
 
 Stamped out by Ireland's brutal foes 
 
 Than flourish through such dire disgrace". 
 
 '•o'- 
 
 So mused the Prince as soft he stcpt 
 Where Eileen sung and Donal slept. 
 Their greetings o'er, the sunny smile 
 Evanished from his face awhile, 
 And once again the painful thought 
 Its change upon his features wrought ; 
 But soon it passed — his dark eye burned 
 With love's pure light, as full he turned 
 
 To her whose heart, however deep 
 Its gushing love, for ever gave 
 
 Such counsel as a Prince might keep, 
 And still be bravest of the brave : 
 And thus he said — 
 
 " My Eileen dear, 
 I know I scarcely need to say 
 
 That Donal's heart is ever here, 
 Let Honour call him where she may, — 
 
 AVith you, with this dear boy, and those 
 SAveet babes whose years are fewer still, 
 
 But well my gentle Eileen knoAvs 
 That Donal's duty shapes his will. 
 
 To-day " 
 
 He paused, but Eileen said —
 
 14 DUNBOY. 
 
 " My Donal, I have heard the tale, 
 And guessed your thoughts ; but never dread 
 
 My well-tried heart even now will fail. 
 King Philip's aids have come at length 
 
 Our country and oxir faith to free, 
 And you would go, with Bcara's strength 
 
 To join the strife. — Ah, wr)e is me ! 
 "Wliat can I do but sigh and pray 
 
 Above my babes — a sad employ — 
 And sorrowing gaze each weary day 
 
 Across the hiUs from lone Dunboy 1" 
 
 Around her trembling form he threw, 
 
 "With hght touch like a tendril's clasp, 
 Those great strong arms his foemen knew 
 
 So forceful in their hostile grasp ; 
 And said in murmurs soft and low — 
 
 " God bless and guard you well, mo stor : 
 Those troubled days that come and go 
 
 But make me love you more and more ; 
 As fruit is ripened on the tree, 
 
 And flowers are touched with charming 
 bloom, 
 Not by one heaven of briUiancy, 
 
 But skies of changing light and gloom. 
 Not in Dunboy, my Eileen dear-. 
 
 My babes shall sleep and you shall pray, 
 Lest war and fire should gather here 
 
 While Beara's troops are far away.
 
 DUNBOY. 15 
 
 Our brave old castle for a time 
 
 A Spanish force shall have and hold, 
 Sure gunners, tried in many a clime, 
 
 And chosen swordsmen, quick and bold. 
 From these no prowling English foes 
 
 Shall take our home beside the sea, 
 No traitorous Irish, worse than those, 
 
 The masters of our land shall be ; 
 But you shall stay, my cherished wife, 
 
 In ^vild, but warm Glengariffe, where 
 No sights or sounds of deadly strife 
 
 Shall fright jo\xr eye or shock your ear. 
 The wind through bright arbutus trees 
 
 And low oak woods, the blackbird's song. 
 Sweet river music mixt with these 
 
 Shall softly speed your days along ; 
 And oh, let dreams as calmly sweet 
 
 And hopes as bright, your comfort be, 
 Tin once again I come to meet 
 
 My own dear wife, mo stor, machree ! " 
 
 Through all the castle quickly fled 
 The warlike words the Prince had said ; 
 The women whispered, half alarmed. 
 
 With looks and signs that boded ill ; 
 The hardy kerns smiling armed 
 
 To try was all in order still ; 
 Shook their long spears with handles tough. 
 
 Stretched their strong arms and o'er them drew
 
 1 6 I>UKBOV. 
 
 Their jiickets made of hempen stuff 
 
 With suiall steel rings wurked on and through ; 
 Felt their good skeans along the edge, 
 
 And laughing pulled their beards and glibs, 
 And told when last each slender wedge 
 
 Went in between a foeman's ribs! 
 The stern old bard looked proudly round 
 
 And eyed the group, as if to say, 
 To him they owed that victory crowned 
 
 Their efforts on each battle day ! 
 Then to his honoured seat he strode, 
 
 Placed his loved harp between his knees, 
 Sweet preludes from his fingers flowed, 
 
 And then he sung such words as these, 
 Unto an air that rippled first. 
 
 Then swelled and shook his strings of gold, 
 Then loud as summer thunder burst. 
 
 And through the castle echoing rolled : — 
 
 WTio will hold back when O'Sullivan, loudly, 
 
 Calls on his people to haste to his aid ? 
 Who will not rush to him, gladly and proudly, 
 Fire in his heart and an edge on his blade ? 
 
 Kindred ! clansmen ! 
 
 Seamen and landsmen ! 
 Young men and old men, a-far and a-near ! 
 
 Together ! together ! 
 
 In calm or wild weather, 
 When called by the shout of O'Sullivan Bcarc !
 
 DUNBOY. 17 
 
 II. 
 
 Never a coAvard, a cringer or quailer, 
 
 Was cliieftan of Beara of late or of yore ; 
 Ever a hero, a soldier and sailor, 
 
 Mighty at sea and resistless on shore ! 
 
 Landsmen ! seamen ! 
 
 Fearless and free men ! 
 Namesakes and kinsmen a-far and a-near ! 
 
 Together ! together ! 
 
 From sea-foam and heather 
 Come on to the call of O'Sullivan Beare ! 
 
 III. 
 
 Come with a rush when O'Sullivan needs you. 
 
 Worthy yoiu* cheerful devotion is he ! 
 Gaily dash on where O'Sullivan leads you, 
 Fearing not, caring not, where it may be ! 
 Tall men ! small men ! 
 Stout men and all men, 
 Horsemen and boatmen a-far and a-near ! 
 Together! together! 
 In calm or wild weather 
 When called by the shout of O'Sullivan Beare ! 
 
 Where was the heart that would not spring 
 To notes like these, the listeners said. 
 
 Such quickening words and tones should biing 
 A clansman from his dying bed.
 
 18 DINUOT. 
 
 'Twas well to have, before the fray 
 Wliile redly loomed the battle day 
 
 Such music surging tlu-ough the brain : 
 It nerved the hand that held the spear, 
 It filled the veins ^vith fire, to hear 
 
 Su wild, so bold a strain ! 
 
 The evening sped, the thin gray night 
 Passed quickly on ; but ere the light 
 Of morning touched the eastern bound 
 Of Beare or Bantry's rugged groimd, 
 The news had spread, the Prince's call 
 Had reached his warriors one and all. 
 They came from near and far away, 
 
 From headlands bold, and sheltered creeks, 
 The bearded fishers of the bay 
 
 With calm gray eyes and hoUow cheeks, 
 "With hands like iron, hard and brown, 
 
 And hearts that never knew despair, 
 Wlion wild and black the storm came down. 
 
 And only Heaven could see and hear 
 
 Their wave-tossed craft, their heartfelt pray'r. 
 The merrier children of the hills, 
 
 With faces red as evening skies. 
 With firmer steps, with fiercer wills. 
 
 With qmcker passions in their eyes. 
 Some who had borne the bnmt before 
 
 Of deadly battle, but who ft-lt 
 Their hands could deal good blows once more, 
 
 If not such blows as once they dealt ;
 
 DUNBOY. 19 
 
 And glowing youths, wlio never yet 
 
 A foe in mortal combat met, 
 
 But whose hearts' hope was now to be 
 
 The foremost rank of all, — to see 
 
 And smite the churls who dared be found 
 
 As Ireland's foes on Irish ground. 
 
 All day they came, and days passed by 
 
 And saw them stUl assembling there, 
 They paused to shape, to fit and try 
 
 Their dress and weapons : sword and spear 
 They stuck into the earth upright 
 
 And blest wdth many a form and pray'r.' 
 They bade them flash like blinding light, 
 And break not, bend not, through the fight, 
 Nor ever glance or turn aside, 
 
 But striking keen, whate'er the part, 
 Find out the mortal vein, and glide 
 
 Eight onward towards the foeman's heart ! 
 
 At length arrived the marching day, 
 
 And all was ready — every man 
 
 His duty knew, and Donal's plan, 
 And aU cried out to lead the way ! 
 The Prince strode forward to a mound. 
 
 And, looking back, beheld with joy 
 The hundreds of his clan and race 
 With patriot fire in every face 
 Who stood like Hving ramparts round 
 
 The gray walls of Dunboy !
 
 20 DL'XBOV. 
 
 He gave the word to march ! — A sliout 
 
 Of stormy ghidness upward rushed, 
 The morning sun shone redly out, 
 
 And all the landscape purple flushed ! 
 The bristling mass moved gaily on, 
 And ere one bright'ning hour was gone, 
 
 The latest ranks were lost to sight ; 
 But twice or thrice — so rough the groiuid — 
 The force Avas seen as slow it wound 
 Some mountain's base or headland round, 
 
 Or climbed some sudden height. 
 Then silence brooded over Beare 
 And by Dunboy ; the sliarpest ear 
 In passing by could only hear 
 
 The mimic waves, the whispering breeze, 
 Or drawing near the castle walls. 
 The warders' tread through empty halls, 
 
 And clanking of their keys. 
 
 Not many days had fleeted by 
 
 Since Donal left his mountain home, 
 When from Beare island's summit high, 
 The anxious watchers could descry 
 A foreign war-ship drawing nigh. 
 And pitching through the foam.
 
 DUNBOY. 21 
 
 She crossed the bay, she swept around 
 The island's western point, and found 
 
 The harbour's safest way, 
 And those who saw her passage, knew 
 Berehaveu pilots steered her to 
 
 The mooring where she lay. 
 Brass guns peeped through her rounded side, 
 
 Her stern was carved, and blazed with gold, 
 Bright saints looked mildly on the tide. 
 
 And winged angels stooped to hold 
 The painted ribbon, opening wide. 
 
 Whereon her name was grandly scrolled. 
 Her prow was curled and gilded too, 
 
 And from her topmasts slim and high 
 The Spanish colours proudly flew, 
 
 A welcome sign to every eye. 
 
 Soon from her deck the sailors lowered 
 Their painted pinnace, many-oared. 
 Upon her planks the light crew sprung, 
 Rich cloaks upon her seats were flung. 
 Then gallant chiefs whose dress was bright 
 With rich rewards for many a fight. 
 Stepped in, and soon were rowed to land 
 
 Beneath Dunboy, where all leaped out. 
 Sunk their sharp anchor in the strand. 
 
 Then sauntered on and gazed about ; 
 Marked how the castle looked and bore 
 On wood and mound and winding shore,
 
 22 DUNBOT. 
 
 "^^^lat parts were strong, what walls were weak, 
 Which point assailants first would seek, 
 Where were the nooks and rooms, the ward 
 Should strive the best to ami and guard. 
 The soldiers sought the castle then, 
 
 The sailors hastened to their boat, 
 Rowed to their ship, and back again 
 With such a load of arms and men 
 
 The pinnace scarce could float. 
 Bcrehaven craft, strong built and 'wide. 
 Came clustering round the vessel's side. 
 And loaded deep with precious freights 
 Of larger bulks and greater weights ; 
 Huge chests of powder, long black guns. 
 Large balls in heaps of many tons, 
 Casks of the flesh of Spanish kine. 
 And sacks of corn and butts of wine. 
 The castle vaults soon held the stores. 
 They touched the roofs and jammed the doors : 
 The gvms were mounted on the walls. 
 The merry soldiers filled the halls. 
 And through thin slits and windows strong 
 Came many a snatch of foreign song. 
 The ship's appointed work was done, 
 
 She spread her white wings to the wind, 
 From her high deck a farewell gun 
 
 Simg out to those she left behind. 
 Aroimd the castle soon a crowd 
 
 Of gallant sons of Spain appeared.
 
 DUNBOY. 23 
 
 They waved tlieir hats and shouted loud, 
 While back from yard and stay and shroud 
 
 The hardy seamen cheered ! 
 First for the holy Faith, and then. 
 
 The best of Kings, the King of Spain, 
 Then good old Ireland and the men 
 
 He sent them to sustain ! 
 The good ship glided fast away 
 
 Before a freshening northern gale, 
 Again she crossed the broad blue bay 
 
 And headed for Kinsale. 
 
 Some dreary winter weeks had past, 
 The longest night its shade had cast 
 
 O'er Ireland far and near — 
 When darker than that darkest night, 
 A rumour of the distant fight 
 Came Uke a wind whose breath was blight, 
 
 Across the hiUs of Beare. 
 An anxious crowd of young and old 
 
 Thronged wildly round each panting scout, 
 Ah, evil news is quickly told 
 
 And thus they gasped it out : —
 
 24 DUNBOY. 
 
 " Donal is hastening back again 
 
 With shattered ranks from lost Kinsalc ! 
 O'Donnell steers away for Spain, 
 
 And northward speeds O'Neill ! 
 O fatal night ! O woful day ! 
 The Irish troops Like sand gave way, 
 And Ireland's cause is lost for aye ! " 
 
 " Donal is hastening back to Beare", 
 
 New comers cried, " from curst Kinsale ! 
 Plague on the sleepy Spaniards there. 
 Who would not watch, and did not hear 
 That midnight battle raging near, 
 
 And rising o'er the gale ! 
 All, all went wrong ; some Avretched man 
 Forewarned the foe, betrayed the plan. 
 O'Donnell madly led the van, 
 
 But led them on to fail ? 
 A panic seized the Irish host. 
 They broke, they fled, the day was lost — 
 First of the ranks still firm and true, 
 Were Donal's, Beara's, gallant few,* 
 
 But what could they avail ! 
 O fatal night ! O woful day ! 
 'Twas long foretold, the wise men say,' 
 'Twas toil and blood thrown all away!" 
 
 But later comers brought the news, 
 With sharper lines and darker hues,
 
 DUNBOT. 25 
 
 And added points of woe — 
 "O day", they cried, "of shame and grief! 
 Don Juan — curse the coward cliief! — 
 Whom Philip sent to our relief, 
 
 Has truckled to the foe, 
 Has hauled the Spanish colours down, 
 And rendered, not alone the to^vn 
 He proudly promised to maintain 
 ' For Christ and for the Kong of Spain', 
 But every rood of land we gave 
 His dainty troops to guard and save ; 
 Finin O'Driscoll's castles strong 
 Of Donneshed and Dmi-na-long, 
 Donogh O'Driscoll's castle too. 
 By Castlehaven's waters blue ; 
 All these the crafty wretch, Carew, 
 
 "Will hasten to destroy — 
 And then, the craven, last and worst, 
 Agreed to yield our foes accurst 
 
 Our castle ! our Dunboy ! 
 fatal night ! O woful day ! 
 Our castle tricked and signed away ! 
 Our good cause lost, and lost for aye ! " 
 
 What grief, of all the griefs of men, 
 
 Can rend the heart, can crush the brain. 
 
 Like his — the patriot soldier — when 
 His country's fight is fought in vain ; 
 
 2
 
 2G DUNBOY. 
 
 When dazzling hopes in gloom are quenched ; 
 
 When freedom, right, and old renown 
 On native fields, with good blood drenched, 
 
 Beneath the invader's feet go down ; 
 Wlien crime in gay success can bask, 
 
 AV hen virtue's meeds are woe and blight, 
 And tortured hearts will almost ask. 
 
 Lives there a God of truth and right ? 
 ^\liat nobler soul to man is given 
 
 Than his who holds, through storm and ill, 
 A changeless trust in righteous Heaven, 
 
 A patriot love that nought can chiU ? 
 Such grief and love, so firm a faith. 
 
 Was Donal's when he took liis Avay 
 Back from Kinsale's red fields of death, 
 
 And sought his home by Bantry Bay ; 
 Not shelter 'midst those hills to seek, 
 
 Till past the storm of war had blown, 
 And then in pleadings low and meek 
 
 Ask mercy of the English throne ; 
 But on the rugged heights of Beare 
 
 In arms for freedom yet to stand, 
 And hold, though crushed the strife elsewhere. 
 One fortress safe for freedom there, 
 
 One flag erect in all the land ! 
 
 Again O'SulUvan drew nigh 
 
 The home he left in hope and pride ; 
 
 Soon as its broad flag met his eye, 
 He called his trustiest chiefs aside —
 
 DUNBOY. 27 
 
 Brave Tyrrell, leader of a band 
 
 Who ever sought war's wildest work, 
 Donal ]\lac Carthy, strong of hand, 
 
 With wise and valiant William Burke ; 
 The Lord of Lixnaw and his men, 
 
 Who from the glades of Kerry came, 
 O'Connor, and the Knight of Glyn, 
 
 With other chiefs of lesser name ; 
 Upon the rough hill's side they sate. 
 
 And talk'd their country's rise or fall, 
 Till summing up their calm debate, 
 
 Piince Donal spoke the minds of all : — 
 
 " We must win back Dunboy from those 
 
 Wlio mean to yield it to our foes, 
 
 By force or wile, by night surprise, 
 
 Or storm beneath the noon-day skies. 
 
 A chosen force we then must send 
 
 Our mountain passes to defend, 
 
 Glengariffe first and best of all, 
 
 For there a band, though weak and small, 
 
 May check an army on its way. 
 
 And hold ten times their force at bav. 
 
 But lest our safeguards all should fail, 
 
 And Saxon might awhile prevail. 
 
 Lest troops should force GlengariiFe through 
 
 And Beara see the cursed crew. 
 
 And, thoiTgh 'tis hard to even suppose 
 
 Dunboy a home for Ireland's foes,
 
 28 
 
 uLxiJoy. 
 
 Yet, lest even that befal, 'tis meet 
 "We now mark out a last retreat. 
 
 The Dursy island risos liigh 
 
 And bluff from out the angry tide ; 
 
 Fierce currents sweep for ever by, 
 
 A stranger force will scarcely try 
 To land on either side ; 
 
 We'll send a few brave men to keep 
 
 The forts upon its summit steep ; 
 
 Of arms and food a i)lenteous store, 
 
 Drawn from Dunboy, we'll send before : 
 
 Then should tlie worst befal us here, 
 
 "We'll take our stand unyielding there". 
 
 On hastened Donal to demand 
 The trust ho gave, his house and land ; 
 But peaceful summons, threats or calls. 
 Brought not the Spaniards from liis halls ; 
 To each command the men rephed 
 
 They knew the terms their chief had made 
 "With Lord Carew, and would abide 
 
 By every word he signed and said. 
 Thus bearded at liis very gate, 
 
 Donal his angry troops withdrew, 
 But had not long to watch and wait, 
 "Wlien fell a night as dark as fate, 
 
 And wild the west wind blew ; 
 He brouglit his men with noiseless pace 
 Before the castle's eastern face,
 
 DUNBOT. 29 
 
 Huge stones tliey picked and ptdled away, 
 And towards the dawning of the day 
 
 They burst their passage through ! 
 Up screaming leaped the startled guard, 
 Down rushed and tumbled all the ward — 
 Bright swords gleamed out and muskets snapped, 
 Hard steel on steel opposing slapped, 
 
 But Donal rushed to view. 
 My men, he cried, put up your swords ! 
 You Spaniards too, obey my words ! 
 No enemies or traitors we, 
 Your king shall answer if we be, 
 
 And speak for what we do — 
 We stand for Spain and Ireland still, 
 And only cross Don Juan's will. 
 
 The tool of vile Carew ! 
 Behold my three best men are laid 
 In gasps of death from ball or blade, 
 Upon the bloody floor, and yet 
 I will not have my soldiers wet 
 
 A single spear-point in your veins — 
 But, raise another hostile hand. 
 By Heaven ! my men, Avho waiting stand 
 Without the walls, shall hack and slay 
 Till of your numbers here to-day 
 
 No living man remains ! " 
 
 Good Father Archer, often tried 
 
 In scenes as Avild, stepped forth and cried : —
 
 30 DuxnoT. 
 
 " Lay down your arms, ye men of Spain ! 
 Brave troops in hundreds wait outside, 
 
 And further strife is vain ! 
 Know, too, your good and faithful king 
 
 Will not approve Don Juan's course ; 
 Soon otlier ships on rapid wing 
 Another captain here shall bring, 
 
 To lead another force ; 
 Lay down your arms ; who strikes again 
 Is foe to Ireland, Rome, and Spain ! 
 
 They flung their weapons on the floor : 
 
 Then Donal said : " A pinnace fleet 
 Even now is waiting by the shore ; 
 Let those who wish to aid no more 
 
 Our Irish cause, but long to meet 
 Their fickle chieftain, step on board. 
 I pledge upon my trusty sword, 
 
 A promise never known to fail. 
 My men shall bear them safely on. 
 And ere another day be gone 
 
 Shall land them at Kiusalc ! 
 
 They paused a moment to decide. 
 
 Then onward marched towards the tide, 
 
 Save one small group of gunners, wlio 
 
 Would still remain to Donul true. 
 
 The boat was manned, her sails were spread, 
 
 Like a white sea-bird on she fled.
 
 DUNBOY. 81 
 
 The Prince looked on till from Ids sight 
 She swept behind Beare island's height, 
 Then Ughtly smiled, as if to say, 
 One danger now had past away. 
 
 . O'SuHivan, if craven fear 
 
 Could reach your heart, 'twas now the time 
 Xo plead unto the Saxon's ear 
 
 And call your patriot strife a crime ; 
 For now is Munster swept to bring 
 
 Together all that murderous band 
 "Who almost blot the green of spring 
 
 In blood and ashes from the land, 
 To crowd in one resistless mass 
 
 The victor troops of many a fields 
 And trample down like sun-dried grass 
 
 The clans that yet refused to yield. 
 Brave Donal, what shall save you when 
 
 An army wraps your forces round — 
 AU Ireland knows yoiu" valiant men 
 Would face their foemen one to ten 
 
 And clear the battle ground ; 
 But for each arm that wields to day 
 
 A blade for Erin and for you, 
 A hundred in the tyrant's pay 
 
 Are stretched to conquer and subdue ;
 
 32 DUNDOY. 
 
 And not alone the sword is bared 
 
 And cannon crammed to reach your heart, ^ 
 No plot is spumed, no bribe is spared, 
 
 No dark device of traitor art.* 
 But you have matched their might ere now 
 
 And foiled their wiles ; this new demand 
 On brain and heart but lights your brow 
 
 And adds new vigour to your hand. 
 Not even a shudder shakes your frame, 
 
 Though boding thought at times must show 
 Your princedom swept with sword and llame, 
 
 Your clan o'erborne, your castle low ; 
 Though o'er yoiu: kindly heart must fly 
 
 Dark glooms of care for kith and kin, 
 Yet those who meet that calm blue eye 
 
 See only fixed resolve within. 
 So may the brave man meet the strife, 
 
 So calm the hero's soul may be, 
 When home and freedom, l^nds and life, 
 
 Are staked for God and Liberty. 
 
 'Twas summer mom, the eastern skies 
 Were rich in gold and crimson dyes. 
 The sunshine, like a glorious rain, 
 Streamed from the east and steeped the plain ;
 
 DUNBOY. 
 
 33 
 
 But Beara's circling mountains kept 
 
 The bright flood from the vale that slept 
 
 Beneath their feet, until the sun 
 
 Raised high the tide, and streams would 
 
 run 
 From clefts and hollows in the hills 
 DoAvn to the vale like golden rills, 
 Each moment finding leaks anew, 
 That dazzling jets came shining through, 
 Till meeting, mingling, spreading wide, 
 The flood swept all the mountain side. 
 And Beara, like a golden cup. 
 With glorious light was brimming up ! 
 
 That brilliant gush of morning light 
 Showed Donal's men a hated sight. 
 Close by the isle those dull black dots 
 
 The last night's clouds too well concealed. 
 Stood plainly forth, the direst blots 
 
 That e'er the noonday svm revealed. 
 A glance sufficed — a hundred lips 
 Cried out : " The ships — the English sliips !" 
 Fast runners over hill and dale 
 Bore on the brief but startling tale. 
 " Ho I men", they said, " the strife is nigh ! 
 The English ships at anchor lie 
 Within our harbour : hasten all 
 Now with yoiir Prmce to stand or fall !"
 
 3-i DUNBOY. 
 
 Soon ou Bcare isle the Saxons sw.inned, 
 
 Close by the shore their camp they formed. 
 
 No petty force for trivial fray, 
 
 No fraction of an anny they,— 
 
 Four thousand soldiers, trained and tried, 
 
 They came to Beara, well supplied 
 
 With amis and stores, commanded too 
 
 By skilful chiefs and captains, who 
 
 Had fought, and wrecked, and gathered spoil 
 
 From Gal way doAVTi to Carrigfoyle. 
 
 Days flitted by on rapid wing, 
 
 "VYhile Lords Carew and Thomond planned 
 Their ways and means to safely bring 
 
 Nigh to Dunboy their troops to land. 
 A smaller island smiling lay 
 
 So close beside the wishcd-for shore, 
 An army there might choose the day. 
 
 The hotxr, to take their passage o'er ; 
 There would they move their force, and then 
 
 Their finest wit and skill employ. 
 To baftle and deceive the men 
 
 Who watched and gixarded round Dunboy, 
 Then on a sudden push across 
 
 To some defenceless point, and there 
 Leap out and gain with little loss 
 
 A footing on the soil of Beare. 
 
 But first Carew was fain to try 
 A plan that served him oft before.
 
 DUNBOY. 35 
 
 Some proffered bribe, he said, might buy 
 
 A viarder from the castle door, 
 That marksman from the castle wall 
 
 Wliose aim and gun were Beara's boast, 
 Some guard or scout, or best of all. 
 
 The captain Donal trusted most. 
 He whispered Thomond what to do : 
 
 He bade him threaten, bribe, cajole, 
 Sound him and spy him through and througli. 
 
 And strive to shake the rebel's soul, 
 Thus from his fears, his greed or guile, 
 
 With half the threatened cost obtain 
 The end they'd marched so many a mile 
 
 And toiled so long to gain. 
 
 It Avas agreed, and Thomond penned 
 
 An offer to the Prince of Beare. 
 It said, " Your trustiest chieftain send 
 
 To hold an hour of parley here ; 
 The spot where he and I shall stand 
 
 The castle and the camp shall see ; 
 Some distance off on either hand 
 
 A force shall wait for him and me ; 
 But, howsoe'er we may decide, 
 
 For war or peace, our parley o'er. 
 Unharmed your man shall cross the tide 
 
 And reach Dunboy once more". 
 
 So be it, Donal said, and soon 
 Upon a well selected space.
 
 36 
 
 nnsTJor. 
 
 Beneath the glowing sky of June, 
 
 The chosen chiefs stood face to face. 
 One was a man of middle size, 
 
 His port was firm, his glance was keen ; 
 But Avhat the wrinkles near his eyes 
 
 And lines around his mouth might mean, 
 The gazer failed awhile to know. 
 
 Till at some turn, some word he spake, 
 The guile that filled his heart would show, 
 
 His lips would hiss, his eyes would take 
 The serpent's cold and deadly glare. 
 
 And every glint and glisten told 
 He might be foiled, but would not spare 
 
 The victim once within his fold. 
 Such was the Earl of Thomond, who 
 Sprung from the line of great Boru, 
 Yet, shameless, plied a traitor's sword 
 To aid a viler foreign horde 
 Than that whose power the monarch broke 
 And bowed beneath the Irish yoke. 
 
 The other was a larger foi-m, 
 
 A finer mould, with ease and grace 
 In his strong limbs ; much sun and storm 
 
 Had deeply broAvned his manly face ; 
 Yet boyhood's smile would curve his Lips 
 
 And hght his eyes, till thought or care 
 Would sudden come, and half eclipse 
 
 Or dim the cheerful glories there.
 
 DUNBOY. 37 
 
 Then stooped his eyebrows till they met 
 
 Above the orbs they nearly hid, 
 And looked one level hne of jet 
 
 Beneath the stately pyramid 
 Of his great forehead. But again 
 
 The clouds passed off; his heart would hurl 
 Its grief aside, or hide its pain, 
 
 The long black line woidd break and curl 
 Again above his calm brown eyes, 
 
 And face and form alike would show 
 He was a warrior, bold, but wise, 
 ' A faithful friend, a gallant foe : 
 So stood the Prince's chosen man, 
 His best loved chief, Mac Geohagan. 
 
 First Thomond spoke. " Well pleased am I", 
 
 He said, " to meet you, chieftain, here. 
 Behold, a mighty force is nigh. 
 And yet we pause and calmly try 
 
 To save the haughty Prince of Beare. 
 Tell him we offer lands and life. 
 
 Perhaps a title from the queen, 
 If he but cease this foolish strife, 
 
 Adopt her creed, nor longer lean 
 For succour on the Kmg of Spain, 
 Or Rome's proud priest, whose aid is vain". 
 
 Calmly replied Mac Geohagan : 
 
 "Methinks, sir earl, his house and lands 
 
 3
 
 .18 Dl'NnOY. 
 
 lie holds with all his gallant clan. 
 
 His life? 'tis in his Maker's hands! 
 A lido? Well, he boasts of tw'o— 
 
 The Prince of Beare is surely one, 
 The other — not a strange or new, 
 But old and famous, good and true, 
 No monarch's gift ; its glory grew 
 From noble deeds : All Ireland through 
 
 Who knows not The O'Sullivan ? 
 Proud titles flow from England's throne : 
 My chief is happy with his own". 
 
 "It pales, it fades, even while you speak". 
 
 The earl replied. "You sure must know, 
 That month by month, aye, week by week. 
 
 Such titles disappear, like snow 
 
 From trampled highways ; where we go 
 Such tenures fail, are cloven through 
 
 By keen-edged swords, are reft and burned 
 AYhere'er our banners flout the blue. 
 
 Where'er our cannons' mouths are turned. 
 I too could summon for the fight 
 
 A force like yours ; I too could send 
 Br.'ve clans to break on England's might, 
 
 But whose the profit in the end ? 
 Instead, I save my home, my land. 
 
 My wealth, my title, from the whirl 
 That gulps you doAsm, and here I stand 
 No hapless outlaw, watched and banned. 
 
 But a high captain and an earl !
 
 DUNBOY. 39 
 
 So may your master also be. 
 Go bid him from Carew and me 
 
 Surrender " 
 
 " No", the chief replied : 
 
 If this be all, ovir task is done ; 
 Let further speech from either side 
 
 Be spoken out from gun to gun. 
 The Prince of Beare rejects your bribes, 
 
 Defies your queen, contemns her creed, 
 Heeds not your threats, flings back your gibes, 
 
 And dares you now from word to deed !" 
 
 "Stay!" said the earl, "one moment stay: 
 
 I now would speak a word with you. 
 Say will you waste your life away 
 
 Amongst this doomed and desperate crew ? — 
 A brave young chieftain, formed to grace 
 
 Gay scenes, and there the gayest shine — 
 Wliy hide within this lonely place, 
 
 Between those mountains and the brine ? 
 Say will you join even now with us. 
 
 And win the court's, the Queen's applause, 
 Or nameless die, maintaining thus 
 
 A failing creed, a ruined cause ?" 
 
 Mac Geohagan moved back a pace. 
 
 His broad chest heaved, his head rose higher, 
 Quick shadows flitted o'er his face. 
 
 His eye balls gleamed like yellow fire :
 
 40 nuNBOY. 
 
 liut soon the rising fury diod 
 
 "Witliin his heart ; a sad half smile 
 Played round his lips as he replied : 
 
 " I did forget a little while 
 The words, sir earl, were said by you : 
 
 They hissed indeed upon my ear ; 
 But when I ventured here, I knew 
 
 The words I might expect to hear ; 
 I therefore will not now complain 
 
 Of honour wronged, but only say, 
 You try your subtle art in vain 
 
 To wile my poor support away. 
 I know the peril ; I have lost 
 
 Ancestral lands and castles fair ;® 
 I've paid down all the strife can cost 
 
 Except my life, and that I dare 
 From day to day for Ireland's sake ; 
 
 1 choose again the patriot's part, 
 And freely bid my country take 
 
 The last red life-drop from my heart". 
 
 " We part", said Thomond, " soon to meet 
 Amid the battle's dust and heat, 
 Or in the captured castle, Avhere 
 Your after thoughts we yet may hear". 
 
 "The castle? No", the chief returned. 
 While like twin stars his dark eyes burned- 
 " The castle ? Never. Mark me well, 
 For tune shall prove the truth I tell —
 
 DUNBOY. 41 
 
 No English troops shall ever find 
 
 A shelter from the rain or Avind, — 
 
 No English preacher ever raise 
 
 A canting hymn in England's praise, — 
 
 No English council ever prate 
 
 The weal or woe of England's State, 
 
 Nor Irish slave one hour enjoy, 
 
 Beneath the roof of proud Dunboy". 
 
 Unto liis boat the chieftain strode ; 
 The earl retraced his mountain road, 
 And to his anxious master told 
 How spoke the rebel, proud and bold. 
 " Wliat ! slighted thus", CarcAv out cried, 
 " My threats contemned, my force defied ! 
 Thinks he his small half-armed pack 
 Shall chase my valiant regiments back ? 
 His clan forsooth ! some dozen score 
 Of paltry rogues. Good earl, no more. 
 Call in the boats, ship all the men. 
 Cross o'er to Deenish isle, and then 
 At dawning of some cloudy day, 
 Quick to the main-land make your way. 
 Soon from that time 'twill plain be seen 
 Wlio rules — the rebel, or the Queen". 
 
 To Deenish isle the transports bore 
 The reg'ments and their warlike store. 
 From thence the mainland's crooked coast 
 Was distant half a mile at most
 
 12 DUNBOY. 
 
 At points from whence the castle lay 
 Three miles of rugged ground away. 
 Agiiin the boats moved from the isle, 
 Disguised their plan a little while, 
 Then steered to the appointed strand, 
 And safely bore their freights to laud. 
 
 The clansmen hurried to oppose 
 The wily movement of their foes ; 
 But ere they swept one half way round, 
 The troops were firm on Beara's ground. 
 Still on they came ; drawn nigh at length 
 Amazed they saw the Saxon's strength, 
 The mighty mass of veteran troops 
 In ordered lines and busy groups, 
 The huge guns dotted o'er the green, 
 The heaps of smaller arms between, 
 The posts and works of wicker made 
 AMiile on the larger isle they stayed, 
 And all that showed a force prepared 
 For all an army ever dared. 
 Dark looked the fortunes of the few 
 Who stood by Donal firm and true, 
 And witnessed in that gloomy hour 
 That dread array of England's power. 
 " Yet", shouted Tyrrell, " though we see 
 Those odds are fearful, shall it be 
 That those vile churls, this crew accurst. 
 Shall pass this night, and this their first.
 
 DUNBOY. 43 
 
 On Beara's soil, and never feel 
 One vengeful point of Irish steel ? 
 No, comrades no, ere set of sun, 
 Their yelloAv Saxon blood shall run 
 On the polluted soil, to show 
 Dunboy's first welcome to her foe ! " 
 
 On rushed the Irish -with a shout 
 
 That rang through all the hills around : 
 The English wheeled their ranks about 
 
 And formed upon the rising ground. 
 Loud burst war's tumult on the gale, 
 
 The cannons' sullen thunder rose, 
 The muskets launched their leaden haj 
 
 Red hghtnings leapt amidst the foes, 
 Bright swords and polished daggers shone,^ 
 
 Sharp skeans gleamed out and hid again, 
 And crash and curse, and stab and groan, 
 
 Mixed in one roar of rage and pain, 
 Long lances, straight as sunbeams, tipped 
 
 With ruddy points, jerked through the 
 crowd ; 
 Bright axes rose awhile, and dipped, 
 
 And answering shrieks came high and loud. 
 
 But the red sun set, and the battle's din 
 Declined at length as the gloom fell in, 
 For the gunner's aim was no longer true, 
 And the pike-men scarce their foemen knew.
 
 1 I nvNnoY. 
 
 Anon .1 crasli — 
 
 A sudden stroke 
 A hush — a Hash ! 
 
 And tlie echoes woke 
 ThroTigh the circling hills as a cannon spoke! 
 Then a gi-apple and a clink of steel, and a hard 
 
 and hurried breath, 
 And an under growl of triumph, and a heavy 
 groan of death. 
 
 Still the darkness fell, and the fearless few 
 WTio had braved a host, in the gloom withdrew • 
 But all night long from the blood-stained vale 
 Came the challenge stern, and the fitful Avail, 
 And a busy hum on the eastern gale. 
 
 '' ^^^^at mean those songs and sounds of joy 
 
 That burst to-night from doomed Dunboy?" 
 
 The tired and wounded heroes cried, 
 
 As the castle gates were opened wide. 
 
 Surprised they saAv within the hall 
 
 The ward assembled one and all, 
 
 The range of torches flaring red, 
 
 The cheer upon the tables spread. 
 
 The harper striking out his strains. 
 
 As if his strings were Ireland's chains —
 
 DUNBOY. 45 
 
 " What news is here ?" with one loud voice 
 
 They asked, " that you can thus rejoice 
 
 "While tread the Saxons on your shores, 
 
 Nay while they threat your very doors ?" 
 
 " Good news ", they answered ; " news to cheer 
 
 The hearts of all assembled here, 
 
 And all beside, Avho wish to see 
 
 The Saxon crushed, our country free. 
 
 But ere we speak it, let us know 
 
 How fared your onslaught on the foe " ? 
 
 " We scarce can tell ", the men replied ; 
 " But when our force they first espied, 
 Their cannon opened on our way 
 While not a gun had we to play 
 Upon their ranks ; yet on we rushed, 
 Into their midst our way we pushed. 
 And only ceased the unequal fight 
 When fell the darkling shades of night. 
 Behold the wounds we bear, and say 
 If lightly passed that sudden fray, 
 Or bid your wardens count and tell 
 Out of the few how many fell. — 
 But no — before a thought you tvirn 
 
 On us — before a wound is drest, 
 Howe'er our flesh may pant and burn. 
 
 First set our anxious minds at rest. — 
 Again we ask, what news of joy 
 What cheer, what hope for old Dunboy ?"
 
 46 
 
 DUNBOT, 
 
 "Glad news", they answered: "more than hope, 
 
 True aid, and proofs of love and care 
 From good King Pliilip and the Pope, 
 
 Have rcaclK'd our shores, are waiting near. 
 Within Kenniare's wood-bordered bay 
 Before our castle of Ardea 
 
 A Spanish vessel rests her keel. 
 By holy men her deck is trod, 
 Owen Mac Egan, blest of God, 
 
 And faithful friar Neale ;'" 
 They come to ask our fortunes here, 
 To bid us boldly persevere 
 
 For further aid ^vill soon come o'er ; 
 A force of fourteen thousand men 
 Was gathering for our service when 
 
 They left the Spanish shore ! 
 Even now they bring to our relief 
 Large sums in gold to every chief 
 
 Who fights by gallant Donal's side. 
 They've, brought us too across the brine 
 A store of gladdening, glorious wine, 
 
 As ever Spain supplied ! 
 They've brought us something to bestow 
 Upon our graceless Saxon foe, 
 
 Though these the gift may welcome not,— 
 Some casks of powder good and strong, 
 To send into the ruffian throng, 
 
 Some piles of iron shot ! 
 Long may the good King Philip reign ! 
 The glorious King of happy Spain,
 
 DUNBOY. 47 
 
 And Ireland's friend — Hurra ! HuiTa !" 
 The words were echoed round about 
 The wounded men stood up to shout 
 
 And ten times o'er to say — 
 " The King of Spain, the glorious King ! 
 May Heaven prolong his life, and bring 
 
 His heart neAv gladness day by day, 
 May glory and renown attend 
 The arts and arms of Ireland's friend. 
 
 The King of Spain — Hurra !" 
 
 But when the gladsome shouts were o'er, 
 And converse might be held once more. 
 The msest chieftains in the hall 
 Round Donal grouped, and said : 
 
 " We all 
 Would urge you, Prince, that ere the morn 
 From out the bright'ning east is born 
 You reach Ardea, and promptly tell 
 Our worthy friends we greet them well. 
 Good Bishop Egan waits you there 
 His plans to shape, his gold to share. 
 King Philip bids him thus to do. 
 For much he trusts and hopes in you. 
 We'll guard Dunboy ; though good your blade, 
 'Tis yours to bring us better aid ; 
 Go Avait the force that now must be 
 Fast speeding o'er the southern sea, 
 And bid them welcome when they stand 
 Arrayed upon our Irish strand ;
 
 •IH Dl'SIiOY. 
 
 'Jlicn as upon some wintry day 
 
 The rain-swc'lled river sweeps away 
 
 The matted drift the stream had tried 
 
 In vain to break or turn aside, 
 
 So rusli you down the hills, and sweep 
 
 This Saxon rack into the deep. 
 
 Till then be ours the fiery task, 
 
 Though small may seem the force we ask, 
 
 One hundred men and forty-four 
 
 Our strength shall be, — we'll keep no niurc,- 
 
 But these, a brave and skilful few, 
 
 Shall do as much as men can do : 
 
 There's not a loop-hole in the Avail 
 
 That shall not pour a rain of ball : 
 
 There's not an angle, nook, or joint. 
 
 From which some barrel, blade, or point, 
 
 Shall not project, to lay the foe 
 
 Who dares to venture near it, low". 
 
 " Good friends", said Donal : " I depart. 
 
 May Heaven protect each gallant heart 
 
 That beats before me here to-night. 
 
 And dares this Saxon horde to fight ! 
 
 Mac Geohagan ! your hand — ^your hand : 
 
 My honoured friend, the chief command 
 
 I leave to you till my return, 
 
 And well I know you'll bravely earn 
 
 From Donal thanks, from Ireland fame, 
 
 A patriot's meed, a hero's name. 
 
 Good soldiers all, and clansmen true 
 
 A brief, and but a brief, adieu !"
 
 DUNBOY. 49 
 
 He said, and mounted on liis steed 
 
 And dashed away at rapid speed; 
 
 Till at Knockoiu'a's base again 
 
 He leaped to earth, he drew the rein 
 
 Around his arm, then quickly went 
 
 With light steps up the steep ascent. 
 
 But ere he made a single stride 
 
 Adown the mountain's further side, 
 
 He turned him round, and paused awhile 
 
 To see his Beara's morning smile. 
 
 The sun had risen, but dull clouds came 
 To bask before his face of flame. 
 And on the hills, still tinged ^dth blue. 
 Broad stains of darker shadoAV thrcAV. 
 The bay was dimmed with misty shade, 
 Like damp upon a polished blade ; 
 And o'er the villaged valleys hung 
 The gloom the passing night had flung. 
 But soon the strong sun rent away 
 Those tangling clouds of fleecy gray. 
 Set the slow drifting shreds on fire, 
 Chmbed the blue air-fields high and higher, 
 And like a victor glad and free 
 Looked proudly down on land and sea. 
 A glory o'er the landscape spread. 
 The mist cleared off", the shadows fled, 
 Gay colours gladdened all the ground, 
 Out started liill and slope and mound,
 
 50 DUNBOT. 
 
 And hut and hall, unseen before, 
 Now sparkled on the further shore. 
 As when an artist clears away 
 The gathered dust of many a day 
 From some old painting : sudden smiles 
 Some bright lake freck'd with golden isles, 
 Soft fohage gleams, the river foams. 
 Smooth fields spreiid out by sunny homes, 
 And in the foreground, sliarp and clear. 
 Bright figures, men and maids, appear. 
 So looked the scene to Donal's sight 
 In that sweet gush of morning light. 
 
 Before him, framing in the bay, 
 A long brown rib of mountain lay ; 
 Beyond again, a glittering spike 
 Of bright blue ocean, dagger-like, 
 Stretched far inland, and sea and sky 
 Were all beyond that met the eye. 
 That rough land nursed a race as stem, 
 Nursed boatmen bold and hardy kern. 
 And dauntless chieftains who would be 
 At home alike on land or sea. 
 But flowers of grace and beauty grew 
 Within its sheltered valleys too. 
 The wild rose of his heart had there 
 Sprimg up and sweetened all the air: 
 With tender hands, with glistening eyes. 
 He gathered up the glorious prize,
 
 DUNBOT. 51 
 
 And filled with love, wath hope and joy, 
 He bore it to his own Dunboy ! 
 Dunboy ! He stroked his wrinkling brow 
 As thought contrasted then and now. 
 He sate him down a moment's space, 
 Within his hands he hid his face, 
 Then from the chambers of his brain 
 The grand old times trooped forth again, 
 And memory showed the happy day 
 He brought his Eileen o'er the bay. 
 
 Again from fleets of bannered boats 
 Sweet laughter rings, gay music floats. 
 Soft plashings of unnumbered oars. 
 Glad welcomes from the peopled shores, 
 Fond wishes, blessings, earnest prayers. 
 In one rich chorus, fill his ears. 
 And stir his heart ; but sweeter still, 
 A deeper touch, a finer thrill, 
 The loved face blushing by his side 
 Reflects his looks of joy and pride ! 
 
 They reach the shore ; he leaps to land, 
 He takes his Eileen by the hand — 
 A storm, a storm of wild delight — 
 A whirl of blades and banners bright — 
 Faint gasps of music, well nigh drowned — 
 Within the sea of rougher soimd — 
 Gay peasants dancing on the green — 
 Good cheer spread out the trees between —
 
 52 DUNBor. 
 
 Peace, plenty, mirtli 
 
 But, God! tliat roar 
 That shakes the hills ! His dream is o'er. 
 
 He started up, a glance he flung 
 
 Upon the real scene below 
 A blue smoke round the turret hung 
 
 Wlicnce sped that death-bolt towards the foe, 
 And nigh the castle he could see 
 
 The Saxon soldiers dotted roiuid 
 In little knots of two and three 
 
 To view the walls and mark the ground 
 For future conflict. 
 
 " Be it so". 
 The hero said. " Full well I know 
 That did I choose to live a slave 
 
 With bended neck and supple knees, 
 Even now one word of mine would save 
 My honoured home, my people brave. 
 
 From foes and dangers such as these. 
 And she, my fond and gentle wife. 
 
 Who shelters in GlengarifTe now, 
 Might spend a tranquil, happy life. 
 Without one thought of bloody strife 
 
 To cloud her sunny brow. 
 What — happy, said I ? Eileen dear, 
 
 I did her wrong, but meant it not : 
 I know my love would mildly boar 
 The inward grief; Avould fondly share 
 
 Her Donal's gloomy lot,
 
 DUNBor. 53 
 
 But liappy ? no, she coiild not be. 
 
 Her brave good heart, though sorely tried, 
 Prefers to share those risks with me, 
 Accepts those toils unflinchingly, 
 Proud in her darkest hour to be 
 
 A patriot's worthy bride ! 
 Then be the issue what it may, 
 Upon this mountain top to-day, 
 
 Beneath this arch of glittering blue, 
 By all on Earth my heart holds dear, 
 And all my hopes of Heaven, I swear 
 
 To fio-ht this stnxo-o;le throuarh! 
 Aye, to the last, though lost it be 
 Aye, while in all the isle I see 
 One shred of our good flag floating free 
 
 With one hundred men beneath it, 
 I'll still be first in the holy toil 
 Our foes to slay, their plans to foil, 
 And my bones shall bleach on my native soil 
 
 Or mine be the last sword sheathed. 
 Farewell, Dunboy". 
 
 And he paced away, 
 But would frequent pause, and woidd musing say : 
 
 " Yes, fearless hearts, as 1 ever found them — 
 One hundred men and forty-four 
 In those narrow halls — not a mortal more — " 
 
 Four thousand foemen round them !
 
 ')^ DUNBOY. 
 
 Another scene of mirth and light 
 
 Is all within Dunboy to-night. 
 
 The watches stiH are kept with ca«e, 
 
 But feast and song are everywliere. 
 
 Beside the breeches of their guns 
 
 Sit groups of Beara's hardy sons, 
 
 And tell their deeds of war once more,. 
 
 Or talk to-morrow's battle o'er. 
 
 The great hall like a casket shines, 
 
 The walls seem decked from diamond mines, 
 
 For burnished weapons catch the blaze, 
 
 And glint aside the glistening rays> 
 
 The oaken panels smooth and old 
 
 Flash in the light like sheets of gold, 
 
 And every carvdd point and cuirl 
 
 Seems silver streaked, or tipped mth pearl ! 
 
 Full oft before, that hall had been 
 
 A brilliant and a merry scene. 
 
 With yet a charm, an added light, 
 
 A sweetness wanted here to-night ; 
 
 For then did Eileen with her lord 
 
 Make glad the room and head the board ; 
 
 And Munster's brightest beauties were 
 
 From its best houses gathered there. 
 
 Daughters of fierce and haughty sires, 
 
 Yet gentle maids, all smiles and sighs, 
 With nought that showed their fathers' fires^ 
 
 Save those bright sparkles in their eyes.
 
 DUNBOY. 55 
 
 And nought to hint, in all their charms, 
 The strength within their brothers' arms. 
 Gone are those forms of light and grace 
 That oft had cheered the happy place, 
 But, like some building once o'ergroAvn 
 
 With flowers that twined its columns 
 round. 
 That stripped and bared into the stone, 
 
 Is still a stately beavity found, 
 So looked the scene that evening, when 
 The hall was thronged with stalwart men ; 
 When every arm could deal a blow 
 To lay the stoutest foeman low ; 
 Wlien every eye that sparkled there 
 Could range the gun or point the spear. 
 And every warrior, not alone 
 
 For Ireland's cause could gladly die, 
 But first could lay beneath his own 
 
 A foeman's corse whereon to lie. 
 
 " Come", said Mac Geohagan the brave, 
 
 " Come, chieftains, friends, and comrades 
 true, 
 We've had our councils calm and grave. 
 
 Let's have our merry meeting too ! 
 We know, when morning lights the land, 
 
 Our foes, now well-prepared, -wall ope 
 Their guns from yonder rounded strand. 
 
 Their battery from the mountain slope ,"'*
 
 0») DUNBOY. 
 
 And wc, from out these good old walls, 
 
 Shall send tlieni hot and quick replies. 
 But ere the voice of battle calls 
 
 Come, let tlic laugh and song arise! 
 / will be merry : — there has lain 
 
 A grief within me, night and day. 
 For weary years, a ceaseless pain 
 
 No human art could charm away : — 
 To-night — 'tis strange — those sorrows turn 
 
 To some new feeling like delight, 
 And dull cold shades that wrapt me, burn. 
 
 Like sun clouds on the mountain height. 
 It is to-morrow's deadly strife 
 
 That flings its ruddy rays before. 
 That warms the chilly stream of life, 
 
 And stirs my heart with hope once more,- 
 AVith hope? — yes, hope I name it still — 
 
 But, chieftains bold, my speech is long, 
 Come, Con O'Daly, prove your skill, 
 
 Come, strike the harp ! — a song, a song ! 
 
 Hurra, Hurra, 
 
 Mac Gcohagan 
 Our noble chief" 
 
 Cried every man 
 " Our Captain good and true !" 
 
 Upon the wall the bright arms shivered 
 
 As tables, roof, and flooring qiuvered.
 
 DUNBOY. 57 
 
 The flags around the room dependmg 
 Stirred in the storm of sound ascending, 
 The clansmen filled their goblets flowing 
 And set the shout once more agoing — 
 
 " Hurra, Hurra, 
 
 Mac Geohagan, 
 The trusted chief 
 
 Of Donal's clan, 
 Mac Geohagan abu !" 
 
 Before the din had died away 
 
 The prelude of O'Daly's lay 
 
 Came on the ear in silvery tinklings. 
 
 Strong -wild gusts, and starry sprinklings. 
 
 Growing louder, fuller, clearer. 
 
 As down sat cheerer after cheerer, 
 
 'Till amidst the listening throng 
 
 Every voice to silence hushed, 
 Thus his new-made tune and song 
 
 Like a rain-swelled river rushed. 
 
 I. 
 
 The foemen are rpund us to-day. 
 
 To-day ; 
 The Saxons are round us to-day, 
 
 With their merciless bands 
 
 Come to ravage our lands, 
 To plunder, to burn, and to slay ! 
 
 Let us rise in our might. 
 
 Let us rush to the fight.
 
 .'8 
 
 DUNIIOT. 
 
 And crush them or chase thorn away — 
 
 Hurra ! 
 Let us crush them or chase them away ! 
 
 ri. 
 
 They come like the wolf on his prey 
 
 To day, 
 To rend and to tear — if thoy may : 
 
 They shall break like the shock 
 
 Of the waves on the rock 
 That is moveless abroad in the bay ! 
 
 Even so the thin flood 
 
 Of their Sassanach blood 
 Shall be spirted and washed into spray, 
 
 Hurra ! 
 Rovmd the brave men of Bcura to-day. 
 
 in. 
 
 We are one to their twenty, they say. 
 
 To-day ; 
 We are one against twenty, they say 
 
 But to count man for man 
 
 Of O'Sullivan's clan 
 With their clouts, is to count them in play ! 
 
 They shall soon know our worth 
 
 When our men sally forth 
 Like lightnings unloosed, to the fray, 
 
 Hurra ! 
 To cleave tliem or chase them away !
 
 DUNBOY. 59 
 
 The men applauded loud and long, 
 They praised the music and the song, 
 
 " Well done ! well done " ! they cried ; 
 " O'Daly, could Ave only do 
 Our parts as yours is done by you, 
 We'd soon mow down this English crew, 
 
 And sweep them to the tide ! 
 Ha-ha! ha-ha! — well done, old Con, 
 No fire from out your veins is gone, 
 
 Although your head be white as snow ; 
 Your blood is hot, your ear is fine, 
 Your toiich upon the silver twine 
 Is clear and fresh, and sounds divine 
 
 Like sweet wild winds around you blow. 
 Till passion-stirred, 
 Svich storms are heard. 
 
 As that which burst awhile ago". 
 
 " Well done O'Daly, right well done — 
 My instrument — a six-feet gun. 
 
 Shall sound its notes to-morrow morn", 
 Said tall Hugh Eoe, who loved a fight 
 And liked a joke ; a merry Avight 
 With thick red beard and eyes of light, 
 
 And voice that rung like hunting horn. 
 
 " Come", said the revellers, " merry Hugh, 
 Let's have your OAvn old song from you : 
 We've heard it twenty times before — 
 You'll sing it oft, we trust, again
 
 CO DUNBOY. 
 
 To laughing maids and merry men, 
 But, lest we may not hear it then, 
 Give us the rhyme once more". 
 Loud laughed tall Hugh, and then he SAV-ung 
 His head in time, while thus he suug : — 
 
 I. 
 
 My name is Hugh Roe, 
 
 And not long, you must know. 
 
 Had my friends seen my presence exciting, 
 When my spirit broke out. 
 And I proved beyond doubt, 
 
 I was born with a fancy for fighting. 
 
 n. 
 
 From nurse-maids to men 
 Have I battled since then : 
 
 All over the isle I've been ranging : 
 And strifes that were tough 
 And furious enough. 
 
 Have I shared, but my taste is unchanging. 
 
 III. 
 
 It is only the right 
 I espouse in the fight, 
 
 I aid no ill cause whatsoever ; 
 But there's plenty of wrong 
 In this world, on my song, 
 
 To keep a man fighting for ever.
 
 DUNBOT. 61 
 
 And who needs to ask 
 For a warrior's task, 
 
 Whose heart has one throb for his sire-land, 
 While Sassanach cloAvns 
 Waste the fields and the towns, 
 
 And strive to be masters of Ireland ! 
 
 \. 
 
 For a soldier like me, 
 What the ending must be, 
 
 I know as if clearly foresho-\vn it ; 
 When that ending comes round, 
 I'll not grieve, I'll be bound, 
 
 And I'll ask no one else to bemoan it. 
 
 VI. 
 
 But I hope that my name 
 In our annals of fame 
 
 Will be set in a small piece of writing," 
 Saying "Then, and just so, 
 Fell the gallant Hugh Roe, 
 
 Who was born with a fancy for fighting' 
 
 
 " WeU done, Hugh ! right weU sung, Hugh 
 The room re-echoed through and through. 
 " His words are truth", one clansman cried ; 
 " His foes Avould own it", one replied ;
 
 C2 Dt-NnoY. 
 
 " I've seen him in the deadly strife 
 
 With every blow blot out a life ; 
 
 I've heard the crash of cloven bones, 
 
 I've heard the growl of heart-wrung groans, 
 
 Go \\'ith him as he cleaved his way 
 
 Right through the thickest of the fray". 
 
 " No wonder", one remarked ; " but few 
 Can boast of arms like those of Hugh. 
 I've seen their strength one evening, when 
 He played with Carbory's hardiest men : 
 Each tried in vain to lift a block 
 Of stone from off a neighbouring rock : 
 He raised it ^\nth a quiet grace 
 Up to his knees, his hips, his face, 
 Then flung it off so far away 
 That some aroimd w^ere heard to say 
 'Twould take a right good powder blast 
 To give it such another cast". 
 
 " And I", another said, " have seen 
 Him snap an ash limb tough and green 
 Between his hands with seeming ease, 
 Wliich others strained across their knees 
 And could not break. But see his wrist. 
 The breadth across his nigged fist^ 
 Why let him take into his oasti 
 An arm of average flesh and bone, — 
 He'd turn it like a woollen twist I
 
 DUNBOT. 63 
 
 But hush ! no more of strong-limbed Hugh ; 
 They ask a song of Dermod Dhu, 
 Who loves, as all Berehaven knows, 
 
 The prettiest maid in half the land, 
 Yet comes to crush his country's foes 
 
 Before he takes her snowy hand. 
 Hush, hush, good friends, I would not choose, 
 When he begins to sing, to lose 
 
 A single soft, dehcious note, 
 For nature in some curious start 
 Gave Dermod, with a manly heart, 
 
 A woman's dainty Hps and throat". 
 So spoke the men themselves among 
 'Till Dermod thus sang out his song : — 
 
 I. 
 
 Beneath a mountain rough and hoary 
 
 Lies a valley fair to view, 
 A river, like an olden story, 
 
 Softly winds and murmurs through. 
 There she dwells, my Una dear, 
 Una, dear as life to me, 
 Una of the golden hair. 
 
 White-necked Una 6g machree.* 
 
 II. 
 
 In that valley flowers are springing 
 
 All the rounding months along ; 
 Birds upon the boughs are singing 
 
 One unending happy song. 
 
 • Anglice — White-necked young Una of my heart.
 
 CI DUNBOY. 
 
 Little may be my surprise — 
 Una day by day they see, 
 Una of the bright blue eyes, 
 
 Darling Una 6g raachree. 
 
 III. 
 
 So my thoughts are full of flowers, 
 So my heart with song runs o'er. 
 While I dream of happy hours, 
 By that river's ^v^nding shore. 
 Happy with my Una dear, 
 Una dear as life to me, 
 Una ever fond and fair. 
 
 Bright-eyed Una 6g machree. 
 
 Who stalks like a spectre right into the hall. 
 Why start up the chiefs and the revellers all ? 
 Wlience comes he— with visage all pale, save 
 
 those streaks 
 Of rod gaping wounds on his forehead and cheeks ? 
 Whence comes he ? — he presses Ixis hand on his 
 
 side, 
 Where the folds of his clothing with crimson are 
 
 dyed? 
 His eyes for a moment are darkened with pain, 
 And his head droops aside, but he rallies again. 
 They bear him along to a couch like a mound, 
 Of brightest hucd silks flung in heaps to the 
 
 ground,
 
 DUNBOY. 65 
 
 Soft cushions they push 'neath his shoulders and 
 
 hips, 
 And they pour the red wine through his colotu-- 
 
 less lips ; 
 He motions his thanks with his hands and his eyes, 
 And thus to their queries at length he rephes : — 
 
 Two days ago, friends, 
 Two days ago, 
 In Dursey island 
 We fought the foe. 
 
 But forty men 
 In the forts were we, 
 They came a hundred 
 And iil'ty- three. 
 
 On our northmost fort 
 First their fury fell ; 
 We fought them long, 
 And we fought them well ; 
 Even they must own 
 That we fought them well. 
 
 But their guns Avere many, 
 And ours Avere few ; 
 And a stronger fort 
 Was the south, we knew — 
 To our southern fort 
 Then our men withdrew.
 
 1 
 
 66 DUNBOT. 
 
 And again wc fought them, 
 Both long and well : 
 That the fight was fierce 
 Even they must tell ; 
 For fast tlu'ir soldiers 
 Before us fell. 
 
 Each man vre lost 
 
 Cost the Saxons two, 
 
 But they could spare them— 
 
 Their bloody crew 
 
 Were thrice our number — 
 
 What could we do ? 
 
 When further contest 
 
 Was all in vain, 
 
 When our guns were broken, 
 
 Our captains slain, 
 
 And no help was near us 
 
 On isle or main — 
 
 Our men surrendered. 
 And doing so 
 Believed they dealt 
 With a gallant foe.— 
 How fared they after 
 You soon shall know. 
 
 Within their camp. 
 Only yesterday.
 
 DUNBOY. 67 
 
 One after one 
 Did they foully slay. 
 Their blood yet clots 
 On the yellow clay. 
 
 They thought me dead, friends, 
 They thought me dead. 
 As I lay and moved 
 Neither hands nor head. 
 Though the friends I loved 
 Were my gory bed. 
 
 But when night fell dark 
 And the sentries slept, 
 O'er the cold wet grass 
 From their camp I crept. 
 
 And I made my way 
 To the castle door. 
 Good friends, I faint, 
 I can speak no more. 
 
 " Comrades !" Mac Geohagan exclaimed, 
 While hke red fires his large eyes flamed — 
 " Though sad our wounded brother's tale, 
 Let no stout heart amongst you quail ; 
 For though we may not hence retire 
 To Dtirsey's forts, now battered low,
 
 68 DUNBOY, 
 
 Yet could we cross the belt of fire 
 That wraps us round, who would desire 
 
 From our dear castle now to go ? 
 And if our comrades l)rave are slain, 
 If honour's, mercy's pleas were vain. 
 Let this but urge us on again 
 
 To smite so base, so false a foe !" 
 
 " Aye", cried the soldiers, " let us feel 
 The spirits of our friends are here. 
 
 To nerve our hearts, to pomt our steel. 
 To tell us how to strike and where ! 
 
 Yes, let us deem the castle now 
 Dunboy and Dursey both in one, 
 
 And only think and labour how 
 
 With axe and sword, with pike and gun, 
 The double work may best be done" — 
 
 " God save you, soldiers", said the priest 
 As slow he strode into the room — 
 "The stars die out, fast fades the gloom. 
 
 And mom is blushmg in the east. 
 
 " I told my beads the live-long night 
 And watched as well as prayed for you. 
 For well by certain signs 1 knew, 
 
 That morn would bring the bloody fight. 
 
 "Soon loud shall burst the battle note — 
 I've seen them feed each levelled gim,
 
 DUNBOY. G9 
 
 CroAvd round the piece awhile, and run 
 The ball into its iron throat. 
 
 " To arms, good friends, without delay — 
 Ha ! see that vivid, blinding flash ! 
 Hark, hear that roar — that sudden crash ! 
 
 And hear again, their loud huzza ! 
 
 " Haste, soldiers, each unto his post — 
 
 I wish you^triumph, glory, fame, 
 
 I bless you in the potent name 
 Of Father, Son, and Holy Ghost !" 
 
 The skies were red with morning light 
 
 When the English guns commenced to play, 
 From batteries, planted through the night. 
 
 At seven score yards from the walls away. 
 Thick dykes stood round the castle's base, 
 
 Hurriedly raised since the Saxons came, 
 But high on the building's western face 
 
 Was the chosen point of the gunners' aim. 
 
 One after one. 
 Each massive gim 
 Eoared, and anon 
 
 Crashed all together —
 
 70 UlNBOY. 
 
 Echoed the sound 
 Tlirough the hills around 
 Like a thunder 2>eal in stormy weather ! 
 
 Hour after hour, 
 The iron shower 
 Kained on the tower 
 
 That groaned and rumbled — 
 BaU after ball 
 Eat through the wall, 
 Tin the turret tottered, slipped, and tumbled ! 
 
 Down with a crash on the vault below ; 
 
 Down was the castle's best gun hurried, 
 In fell the vault with the mighty blow, 
 
 And brave men deep in the wreck were buried. 
 
 Then lower on the castle's side 
 
 The English turned their cannon all ; 
 
 Again the gray old pile was plied 
 With a steady hail of racking ball — 
 
 Gun after gun, 
 Till hours had run, 
 And the blinding sun 
 
 In the south was flashing — 
 The big stones split, 
 As the bullets hit. 
 And the splinters flew from the granite crasliing !
 
 DUNBOY. 71 
 
 Firm and tough 
 Was the building stuff 
 That torn, and rough, 
 So long impended — 
 A flash ! a roar ! 
 One dull stroke more, 
 And the whole field shook as the mass descended! 
 
 Then loud the Saxons' shout arose, 
 
 They waved their flags with frantic joy : 
 " Hurra", they cried, " thus die our foes, 
 • Thus falls the famed Dunboy !" 
 
 Forth from the ruined bvulding came 
 A soldier whose white flag would claim 
 Exception from the gunner's aim. 
 
 His peaceful errand bent to do, 
 The Saxon camp he marched unto. 
 And asked to speak with Lord CarcAV. 
 
 " Aye, let the rebel pass to me" 
 The Avily cliief said " we shall see 
 What may his comrades' thmkings be. 
 
 " But when we've heard his story, then, 
 Be yours the care, my trusty men, 
 He never sees Dunboy again.
 
 72 DUMBOT. 
 
 Before him was the envoy led, 
 
 His white flag drooping o'er his head ; 
 
 He gravely bowed, and thus he said: 
 
 " My comrades send me, Lord Carcw, 
 
 With peaceful offers unto you. 
 
 As brave men in theu- strait may do. 
 
 " With yours compared, their force is small, 
 Their guns are few ; wall after wall 
 Before your stronger fire must fall. 
 
 " Yet thinli they even they may say, 
 For every man your force might slay 
 Your army with a life Avould pay. 
 
 " With hearts for either fortune steeled. 
 They offer now in peace to yield 
 The castle and the battle field, 
 
 " If, with their arms and colours, they 
 Shall all be free to take their way 
 Where'er they please, from hence to-day". 
 
 *' No" said Carcw, " in sooth not so. 
 We offered terms ere yet a blow 
 Was interchanged, some weeks ago. 
 
 " You scorned them then, and by my vow, 
 No peace, no truce shall we allow 
 Howe'er you pray or parley now.
 
 DUNBOT. 73 
 
 " And mark ! — we saw you hither press, 
 And Avave your sign of peacefulness, 
 Yet fired your guns no shot the less. 
 
 " Your cannon flashed your flag to mock, 
 Your balls came in ■\\dth stroke and shock — 
 Ho, Marshall ! bear him to the block !"'* 
 
 The trumpets brayed ! the army stirred, 
 
 And quick assumed the battle build, 
 Ti^Tiile summoned by that warning word 
 
 The breach with Beara's soldiers filled. 
 Full in the front stood tall Hugh Roe, 
 
 Who smiled and cheered Ms gallant 
 band, 
 He swung his long sword to and fi'o 
 And freed his elbows for the blow 
 With which he meant to greet the foe 
 
 That now were tramping near at hand. 
 The trumpets sounded ! onward pressed 
 
 The English ranks — a shout, a screech. 
 Told when the men were breast to breast 
 
 And grappled in the deadly breach ! 
 
 Glaring in each other's faces, hissing in each 
 
 other's ears, 
 Searching for the mortal places Avhere to plant 
 
 their shining spears, 
 
 6
 
 7 I DHKBOr. 
 
 Striking in uith sudden lunges, with the sword 
 bhidc deftly sloped, 
 
 Starting forth witli forceful plunges when the 
 ranks a moment ope'd ; 
 
 Panting, straining, loud complaining, as the wells 
 of life were found. 
 
 And the bright red tide came raining qiiickly on 
 the dusty mound. 
 
 Grunting gladly, cheering madly, answering Avith 
 a bitter yell, 
 
 WHien some fierce hard -striking foeman caught 
 the deadly wound and fell ; 
 
 Beaten backward for a moment, pressing on again 
 in haste, 
 
 All the crumbling dust beneath them trampling 
 into bloody paste — 
 
 So they fought the murderous combat, while the 
 red-faced sun looked doAN-n 
 
 From between his crimson curtains on the land- 
 scape "with a frown, 
 
 Deepening till the hills seemed risen freshly from 
 some purple flood. 
 
 And the tranquil sea below them looked a flow- 
 ing bath of blood. 
 
 Wounded thrice with musket bullets, scarred by 
 
 keen and ready blades, 
 Captain Kirton held the passage, calling loud for 
 
 English aids.
 
 DL^NBOT. 75 
 
 Mewtas answered to the summons, rushing forward 
 
 with a cheer, 
 Hurling fresh and eager forces on the gallant 
 
 men of Beare ; 
 Well they met them ; added vigor into every blow 
 
 they flung, 
 Quicker now their swords descended, deeper now 
 
 their pike points stung ; 
 To and fro throughout the battle ranged the brave 
 
 Mac Geohagan, 
 Cheering on his gallant soldiers, watching well 
 
 his foemen's plan. 
 Rushing when the need was greatest madly for- 
 ward to the front, 
 Often for a time sustaining all alone the battle's 
 
 bnmt. 
 By the eddying of the combat, circling, surging, 
 
 one might know 
 Where the tide was breaking wildly on that 
 
 rugged rock, Hugh Roe. 
 Oft his blood-stained blade was lifted, but the 
 
 eye could only see 
 In the air a bright red circle, coming, going 
 
 suddenly. 
 As one sees when playful children t^virl a fire- 
 
 tipp'd stick at night, 
 And the vision catches only one bright band of 
 
 ruddy light. 
 Strong limbed Hugh ! a score of foemen thought 
 
 their might but matched in him.
 
 76 DUKBOY. 
 
 And he seemed to take the honour with a pleasure 
 
 wild and grim, 
 Earning AVell the high opinion as his vengeful 
 
 blade he plied * 
 
 And from out the group he wrought on, foemen 
 
 staggered, dropped, and died. 
 
 Still the bloody gap Avas holden l:)y the castle's 
 
 gallant few, 
 Loud again the trumpets sounded for the troop 
 
 of Lord Carew ; 
 Fast into the breach they flooded, and before the 
 
 gathered strength. 
 Far outnumbered, thrice o'erpowered, Bcara's 
 
 men gave way at length ; 
 Slowly yielding 'tWTXt the bvuldings raised around 
 
 the castle's base. 
 Inch by inch the ground disputing, till they 
 
 reached a sheltered space 
 Where the cannon of theii' foemen raked no more 
 
 their little band. 
 And the fight was closer, fiercer — man tu man 
 
 and hand to hand. 
 
 Long within that narrow passage was the furious 
 
 strife maintained, 
 Hours of bloody toil passed over, not a step the 
 
 Saxons gained ; 
 Nought availed their greater numbers, in the 
 
 narrow frontage there,
 
 DUNBOY. i i 
 
 Beara's stiu'dy men presented sword for sword 
 
 and spear for spear. 
 Quickly fell the foremost foemen; pressed the 
 
 forces closer yet, 
 Wearing, grinding down each other at the edges 
 
 ■where they met. 
 Never paused the strife a moment, till a sharp 
 
 and sudden cheer 
 Made the tired and baffled Saxons look around 
 
 and up with fear. 
 High upon the rumed castle, standing on the 
 
 broken wall, 
 Armed with many a weighty missile, jagged stone 
 
 and iron ball, 
 Stood a range of Irish soldiers — soon into the 
 
 narrow pass 
 Flung they down their ponderous weapons on the 
 
 solid Saxon mass. 
 Crushing strongest men like stubble, beating gaps 
 
 into the crowd, 
 That like helpless things could only shiver, shriek, 
 
 and howl aloud. 
 On the castle's ragged outline, perched upon its 
 
 highest part, 
 Bold O'Moore'^ was seen to labour, striving hard 
 
 with all his heart : 
 Fragments from the wall he rooted, swung them 
 
 upward to his teeth. 
 Hissed and cast them fiercely from him on the 
 
 groaning^ranks beneath.
 
 78 Dl-NBOT. 
 
 Shouting, singing, dancing wUdly, as he saw the 
 
 weighty stones 
 Reach the earth and drive before them mangled 
 
 flesh and shattered bones ; 
 Still the patient Saxons suffered, hoping strong 
 
 reliefs were near, 
 For they knew their men were seeking entrance 
 
 through the castle's rear. 
 And ere long their hopes were answered ; fast 
 
 their regiments hurried through, 
 Sought and found the narrow passage held by 
 
 Beara's fearless few. 
 Gallant Hugh! they hastened towards him, soon 
 
 a dozen rays of steel 
 In his manly heart were buried like the spokes 
 
 within a wheel ; 
 Up they rushed into the rmn — Ha, those soldiers 
 
 on the w^all — 
 Never more shall these be flinging jagged stone 
 
 or iron ball ; 
 Down they dragged them, stabbed and clove 
 
 them, saw their death wounds doubly sure, 
 Turned to wreak their direst vengeance on their 
 
 deadliest foe O'Moore, 
 But he sprung from off the ruin ; ere he touched 
 
 the bloody ground 
 Saxon spears ran redly through him and a speedier 
 
 death was found. 
 Downward from the rooms they hastened, for 
 
 despite the force below,
 
 DUNBOY. 79 
 
 Saw tliey sallying from the castle forty of tlie 
 
 Irish foe, 
 Hastening whither? where was shelter? short the 
 
 space they had to flee, 
 English troops were close beside them, straight 
 
 before them spread the sea ; 
 Caught between the closing regiments, soon the 
 
 little band was crushed, 
 But a few strong men escaping, thence into the 
 
 water rushed ; 
 Swam, with clinging clothes encumbered, boldly 
 ' for the island's shore, 
 Though the point that jutted nearest, distant lay 
 
 a mile or more ; 
 Slowly o'er the waveless water glided on each 
 
 rugged head, 
 But the soiinds of oars came to them ere one 
 
 fourth their course was sped ; 
 Fast came up the boats pursuing, from each bow 
 
 and o'er the side 
 Saxon soldiers drove their lances through the 
 
 swimmers in the tide ; 
 One by one beneath the surface dipped the heads 
 
 and disappeared. 
 Loud the troops on shore applauded, loud the 
 
 brutal boatmen cheered ; 
 Scare a token of the slaughter in a minute more 
 
 remained 
 Save where'er the dull green water with a ruddy 
 
 hue was stained,
 
 80 DtTKBOT. 
 
 Save that glancing sharply downward, bloody 
 
 streaks were seen to grow 
 Like hmg strings of purple sea-weed branching 
 
 from each corse below ; 
 Save that when the boats returned, thin red linos 
 
 of human gore 
 Marked their sides with wavy outlines, circled 
 
 round each clumsy oar. 
 
 Once again the English captains ordered on a 
 
 new assault, 
 Ere the night to crush the clansmen still disputing 
 
 hall and vault. 
 Onward pressed the Saxon forces, hoarsely cheer- 
 ing as they dashed 
 Hard upon their desperate foemen while their 
 
 helping cannon crashed : 
 Never quailed the patriot soldiers; hideous now 
 
 with dust and blood, 
 Plying well their blunted weapons, strong in their 
 
 despair they stood, 
 Checking oft their swarming foemen — but despite 
 
 of stop and stay. 
 Still the crowding English regiments slowly, surely, 
 
 won their way. 
 Short the space they had to traverse, yet the time 
 
 was told by hours 
 Ere they planted on the ruin flags that waved 
 
 like gaudy flowers.
 
 DUNBOT. 81 
 
 Joyful leaped the English soldiers, burst a cheer 
 
 from every throat, 
 When they saw their blood-stained banners o'er 
 
 the hard won capture float. 
 But their task not yet was ended ; in a moment 
 
 more they foixnd 
 Their unyielding foes descended to the cellars 
 
 underground, 
 Vainly did they strive to follow down those 
 
 narrow stairs of stone, 
 Every man who ventured forward tumbled inward 
 
 with a groan ! 
 Hold ! cried out the wearied captains to their 
 
 tired and wounded men, 
 Hold ! Ave rest till dawns the morning ; we shall 
 
 rout the rebels then. 
 Set a guard above the cellars, watch the place 
 
 Avith SAVord and fire. 
 Let the force no longer needed to their cauA'as 
 
 quick retire ! 
 
 Spoke a voice from far below, 
 " Saxon soldiers ! Usten ho ! 
 Brave men fight, but never do 
 Mtirder on a vanquished fcAv : 
 Here Ave yield, we end the strife, 
 Claiming, asking, only life". 
 
 " Irish rebels, beaten foe". 
 Spoke the Aictors, " listen, ho !
 
 82 DUNBOT. 
 
 At our mercy simply yield, 
 We are masters of the field.' 
 In our hands we hold your fate 
 Vainly now of terms you prate". 
 
 Spoke the voices from below, 
 " Never, never : well we know, 
 Taught by black and bloody scenes, 
 What your Saxon mercy means. 
 If our blood must glut yovir hate. 
 Take it at a dearer rate". 
 
 " Soldiers !" cried the Saxon captains, " watch 
 the place through midnight's gloom: 
 
 If they yield not ere the morning, their retreat 
 becomes their tomb". 
 
 But seventy men and six, of those 
 
 Who dared four thousand to the fight. 
 When morning o'er Dunboy arose. 
 
 Beneath the ruin grouped at night. 
 And these were weary, wounded, weak, 
 
 Some, one might see, would droop and die 
 Before another rosy streak 
 
 Of morning touched the eastern sky.
 
 DUNBOy. 
 
 83 
 
 The white haired bard who proudly sung 
 
 While last night's hours on light wings flew, 
 Now bent abdve his harp unstrung, 
 
 His heart unstrung and shattered too. 
 And there upon the moist cold ground 
 
 Mac Geohagan low moaning lay. 
 While forth from many a crimson wound 
 
 His life blood dripped and ebbed away. 
 Many a stout limbed son of Beare, 
 
 A giant in his strength that moi'n, 
 Lay wearied, faint, and wounded there. 
 
 Weak as an infant newly born. 
 Some just could struggle through the task 
 
 Across the room to limp or crawl, 
 By groping on from cask to cask, 
 
 And steadying by the cellar wall. 
 Not one was there unmarked Avith gore. 
 
 With scar and bruise, with blood and dust, 
 No weapon on the ground but bore 
 
 Some crimson stain or purple crust. 
 
 " Friends", said the warrior priest, "though ill 
 
 I speak their Saxon jargon, still, 
 
 Methinks were I but face to face 
 
 With their stern chief to plead our case, 
 
 My words might have siifficient art 
 
 To reach and touch his cruel heart. 
 
 In other lands 'twas mine to see 
 
 Brave soldiers flushed with victory.
 
 ft4 ni'NTlOT. 
 
 To hear full oft' addressed to these 
 
 The fair appeal of vanquished ibes, 
 
 And, whatsoe'er the battle's heat, 
 
 llowe'er his heart might burn and beat, 
 
 I've seen the conquering soldier stand, 
 
 And sudden stay his vengeful hand, 
 
 When as he swung his blade in air, 
 
 The yielding foeman shouted ' spare !' 
 
 Yes ; battles won and lost I've seen ; 
 
 Vanquislied and victor have I been, 
 
 I, Doniinick Collins : at the head 
 
 Of gallant troops of horse I've sped ; 
 
 Firm in my hand the trusty lance 
 
 Grasped for the Holy League of France — '* 
 
 And borne me — so I hope at least — 
 
 As fits a soldier and a priest. 
 
 I will confront our Saxon foes, 
 
 Perhaps in one brief hour to close 
 
 The life I can- not to prolong 
 
 In this wild world of sin and WTong ; 
 
 Ijut yet perhaps some good to do, 
 
 To win the terms you seek for you. 
 
 Full well I know that one and all 
 
 As little care what fate befal. 
 
 Yet well may I be foimd the first 
 
 To hope the best and brave the worst". 
 
 Then said the soldiers : " Be it so. 
 But bless'us. Father, ere you go.
 
 CUNBOY. 85 
 
 Light is the soldiei-'s heart, who feels 
 
 That, howsoe'er war's thunders roll, 
 Wliate'er the fate red battle deals, 
 
 No ills can reach his sinless soul; 
 Wlao in the wildest danger sees 
 
 The path to ^\•in the Avorld's renown, 
 His country's thanks, or, failing these, 
 
 Death, and A\ith death a brighter crown. 
 Bless us, good Father, bless us all ; 
 To-morrow let Avhat may befal". 
 
 .He bless'd them all, and begged their pray'i-s. 
 Then mounted up the narrow stairs. 
 Slow, as if half resolved he stept. 
 
 Till on the topmost stone at last, 
 One bitter burst of grief he wept, 
 
 Then forth into the air he passed. 
 
 The cellar gloom was damp and chill ; 
 'Tis true the night was short, but still 
 Those few brief hours, the soldiers said, 
 A cheerier time might well be made. 
 They struck their flints and quickly raised 
 A merry fire that cracked and blazed, 
 They fed the flame with logs of pine 
 Wet ^yith. strong usquebaugh and wine ; 
 Unto the As^armth the strongest men 
 Brought up their weaker friends, and then 
 From the rich plenty round them stored, 
 That oft had decked a gayer board.
 
 86 DUKBOY. 
 
 Drew forth and gave, vdili kindly speech, 
 
 Good cheer around to all and each 
 
 Who still could drain a cup or two, 
 
 To Ireland and her soldiers true. 
 
 But generous drinks and grateful food, 
 
 To glad the heart and Avarm the blood. 
 
 Were not the only stores that lay 
 
 Around them heaped and stowed away. 
 
 Not long erect on Irish land 
 
 Could princely hall or castle stand. 
 
 Which had, close by its basement stone, 
 
 But com and wines and meats alone, 
 
 And held not full supplies for those 
 
 Who came the way as friends or foes. 
 
 By that deep cellar's walls were found 
 
 Stout barrels trebly hooped and bound. 
 
 They held — not fare to cheer and brace 
 
 The huntsman weary of the chase. 
 
 They were not wells whose taste would move 
 
 The hps to song, the heart to love — 
 
 Beneath their lids so closely kept, 
 
 A fierce, a mighty giant slept ; 
 
 One touch of fire would break the spell, 
 
 And raise from out each fragile shell 
 
 A dazzling shape, that with a flash — 
 
 A thunder roar — a sudden crash — 
 
 Would crush and kill, would scorch and burn, 
 
 Cast down, uproot, and overturn, 
 
 Would scatter wreck and death around. 
 
 Then pass from off the blackened ground
 
 DUNBoy. 87 
 
 As quickly to tlie trembling air, 
 And on the instant vanish there ! 
 Unto the centre of the floor 
 One barrel from that dreadful store, 
 The soldiers moved, and quick undid 
 The fastenings of its heavy lid, 
 But loosely on the dull black grain 
 Laid the thick covers down again, 
 Then turned to spend the passing night 
 As well and gaily as they might. 
 
 '^ Soldiers !" in accents faint and weak, 
 
 Mac Geohagan was heard to speak : — 
 
 " Amid the battle's crash and heat 
 
 I've watched you well, and now 'tis meet 
 
 That ere my lips are closed for aye, 
 
 I OAvn your gallant deeds, and say, 
 
 That well you've borne the bloody day. 
 
 The ruined pile above will stand, 
 
 A sign to all who tread the land, 
 
 That by no brief assault was won 
 
 The fight that wrecked this stout old Dun ; 
 
 That here, these ragged walls among, 
 
 Defenders brave, assailants strong, 
 
 In deadly combat battled long ! 
 
 God rest the dead, the brave and true. 
 
 But, living comrades, what of you? 
 
 In one brief hour, as all must know. 
 
 Above our heads will swarm the foe —
 
 88 DUKBOY. 
 
 If Still my l)rave men's lives they ask. 
 If still they crave their bloody task, 
 Then, comrades, then — the powder cask ! 
 Aha ! about my heart I feel 
 A hand as hard and cold as steel, 
 And yet, despite the mortal pain 
 A glory bathes my dying brain ! — 
 O'Daly ! touch my favourite strin<T, 
 Sweet thoughts in wildering music fling. 
 Upon my heart : O'Daly, sing !" 
 
 " A shattered harp is mine to-night", 
 
 O'Daly said, " for even I, 
 When hotly raged the unequal fight, 
 And red blood flowed before my sight, 
 
 Could not stand idly by. 
 I scarcely thought this withered arm 
 Could work the cursed brood such harm, 
 But yet beneath the weights I hurled. 
 
 More than one hateful Saxon hound 
 Howled out with pain, bowed down and curled, 
 
 And rolled upon the bloody ground. 
 But while I stood upon the wall 
 
 Some marksman keen my post espied, 
 Ere long a well aimed musket ball 
 
 Ripped up the flesh along my side, 
 And glancing struck the harp I laid 
 
 Not far away. Our songs are o'er, 
 My harp, my much-loved harp, I said ; 
 
 DunV^oy will hear thy strains no more !
 
 DUNBor. 89 
 
 But yet a few deep chords remain, 
 
 I'll wake the tones though faint they be, 
 
 One old air haunts my darkening brain — 
 And thus I sing, my chief, for thee. 
 
 'Tis bitter news for Bantrj', 'tis gloomy news for 
 
 Beare, 
 'Tis moi;rnful news for Ireland, the grief that 
 
 smites us here ; 
 Alavrone, mavrone, our tribes will groan, and 
 
 own the weight of woe, 
 As white lips say, " Beside the bay Dunboy is 
 
 lying low". 
 
 H. 
 
 No wonder sighs and sobs should rise ; no wonder 
 
 tears should run ; 
 No wonder Erin dear should weep, as a mother 
 
 weeps her son ; 
 'Neath many a loss and heavy cross 'twas her's 
 
 to bend and bow. 
 But some were bliss and joy to this that breaks 
 
 her fond heart now. 
 
 III. 
 But, good and gallant clansmen, enough, enougli 
 
 for you, 
 YouVe fought the fight for Ireland't) right, as 
 Ireland's sons should do.
 
 90 DUNnoT. 
 
 God will decree what's yet to be, but pray, dear 
 
 clansmen, pray. 
 That soon His hand may raise our laud, and 
 
 chase her foes away. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Home of my race, my native place, green isle, 
 
 I've loved thee long ; 
 Low at thy feet, I've hymned thee, sweet, and laid 
 
 my gift of song ; 
 But joy more true I never knew, than now, a gra 
 
 machree, 
 When this red flood of living blood flows from 
 
 my heart for thee. 
 
 The song is hushed, the listeners speak. 
 Even dying men, bowed doAvn and weak, 
 A moment raise their heads to say, 
 The bard ne'er sung a sweeter lay. 
 But one whose praise was ever dear 
 As blessings to the harper's ear. 
 Speaks not, moves not — what can it be ? 
 They hasten to their chief to see — 
 He lives ! he lives ; he is not dead, 
 His noble spirit has not fled. 
 Though like a corse the hero lies 
 With Ups relaxed and closi^d eyes. 
 They lay his massive frame at ease. 
 His head upon a soldier's knees ;
 
 DUNBOY. 91 
 
 They loose the gun and sword belts wound 
 His manly breast and body round, 
 Then, lest the Saxon troops come on, 
 And find their ordered valour gone, 
 To Taylor, ever wise and brave, 
 The chief command with greetings gave. 
 Nor could the faithful clansmen's voice 
 Have spoken out a better choice. 
 His was a heart that never knew 
 A moment's fear, but firmer grew 
 When danger near and nearer came, 
 And death's keen dart seemed sure of aim. 
 His form, of more than middle height. 
 Stood Hke a poplar straight and slight ; 
 His face was pale, his cheeks were deep. 
 The bones alone would seem to keep 
 Their sides apart ; Ins gray eyes seemed 
 To light a brain that ever dreamed ; 
 His yellow hair was loosely thrown 
 From ofi" the lofty plate of bone • 
 That o'er them stood : He looked a man 
 Steady of purpose, slow to plan. 
 But sure to act, and aye abide 
 By that his will should once decide. 
 He took the post they called him to : 
 Its duties now were plain and few : 
 He pushed a seat across the floor, 
 And placed it by the powder store ; 
 He sate him calmly do-\vn, and bid 
 The soldiers lift the loosened lid ;
 
 '.'2 nuNnoT. 
 
 Soon as the Saxons' tramp Ciime near, 
 He firmly grasped a burning brand. 
 
 lie listened with an anxious car, 
 And held the red light in his hand, 
 
 Tlicn when their haughty summons broke 
 
 The silence, to his men he spoke : — ' 
 
 " Soldiers, the hour for strife is past, 
 The fight is fought, the die is cast. 
 Yield ye who will. I set ye free ; 
 Let those who choose remain with me ; 
 But Avhich are braver, none may say. 
 The men who leave, or those who stay, — 
 All fought the hard fight yesterday. 
 Yield ye who will : I still remain, 
 Once more, though well I know in vain, 
 
 Our last night's tenns of peace to ask. 
 Shotdd they but mock my words again, 
 
 To answer with the powder cask. 
 
 A moment's pause, and twenty-three 
 
 Sore wounded men together came, 
 Spoke to their comrades mournfully. 
 
 And bowed their heads, as if in shame. 
 Then slowly climbed the bloody stair, 
 Gloved out into the morning air, 
 
 Still with the night dews chill and damp, 
 Marched straight across the well known ground, 
 And in a minute more were bound 
 
 In chains within the Saxon camp.
 
 DUNBoy. 93 
 
 Another pause, and from the few 
 Within the gloomy vault, -withdrew 
 Three war worn men, Spain's Avorthy sons, 
 Who bravely worked the castle guns. 
 And spurned the bribes Carew would pay 
 To wi^ them from theu- posts away. 
 Not less their proud hearts' bitter grief, 
 
 That there were guns to work no more, 
 For Spanish king or Irish chief, 
 'Gainst Saxon dogs of unbelief. 
 
 On Irish sea or shore. 
 
 Ao-ain the Saxons shouted, " Ho ! 
 Irish rebels still below. 
 Yield, or we batter down a wall 
 Above your heads, and one and all 
 Imprisoned in the vault remain 
 And soon for exit howl in vain". 
 
 " Promise life unto my men", 
 Taylor said : " we yield but then. 
 Still refuse, and Avith the brand 
 Brightly flaming in my hand, 
 Friends and foes at once shall I 
 Hurl in one blast tow'rds the sky"." 
 
 The Saxons left Avith curse and froAvn, 
 Again their cannon redly flashed. 
 Their huge balls through the ruin crashed, 
 
 And fast the old walls wasted down.
 
 94 Dl'XBOY. 
 
 But sec, from miJst the dusty drifts 
 A figure comes, bis hand lie lifts 
 Above his head, and drawing near 
 Ilis shouted words the EngUsh hear : — 
 
 " We yiehl ! we yield 1 we strive no more, 
 Our arms are piled on tlie cellar floor. 
 Taylor, our captain, murmurs yet, 
 But we hush his voice with plea and threat. 
 Enter ; the clansmen round you lying 
 Will strike no more ; are dead or dying". 
 
 Into the vault the Saxons ran : 
 
 The voices and the tramp of feet 
 Aroused the chief Mac Geohagan, 
 
 Whose heart had well nigh ceased to beat. 
 With hard wild stare he looked around, — 
 
 Were these the Saxons near him ? wliat !- 
 His gallant men disarmed and bound ? 
 
 He tottered to the flames and caught 
 A glowing ember in his hand, 
 
 Then toAvards the cask hold on his way. 
 The English soldiers saw the brand, 
 
 And rushed in front his course to stay ; 
 Their captain, Power, forward flew, 
 
 And grasped the dying hero fast, 
 The while another of the crew, 
 His bloody weapon through and through 
 
 The noble chieftain's body passed.
 
 DUNBOT. 
 
 95 
 
 Slow dripped the blood ; that heart had nigh, 
 Before the cruel deed, run dry ; 
 
 But ere his gallant spirit fled. 
 Lord Thomond caught the chieftain's eye, 
 
 And thus with dying breath he said : — 
 
 " Ha ! Earl, you'll own I told you true 
 
 When on the island's side we met ; 
 The words should still be known to you, 
 
 I can recall them even yet — 
 ' No English troops shall ever find 
 A shelter from the rain and -wand ; 
 No English preacher ever raise 
 A canting hymn in England's praise ; 
 No English council ever prate 
 The weal or woe of England's state ; 
 Nor Irish slave one hour enjoy, 
 Beneath the roof of proud Dunboy'. 
 I spoke you thus, and, traitor, tell, 
 Have I not kept my promise well ? 
 
 " Donal and Eileen ! yes, I see, 
 
 You're here to laugh and sing with me. 
 
 Strike up, O'Daly! prove your skill! 
 
 What ! Wliy is all so cold and still ? 
 
 So still and dark ! Where am I ? Where ? 
 
 Donal and Eileen ! No one near ! 
 
 Ah ! yes, I knoAv. Dunboy, good bye ! 
 
 God take my soul ! I die, I die I"
 
 00 DUNBOY. 
 
 Tliat eve within the Saxon's camp, 
 
 The headman's strokes continued long, 
 
 With a steady cliamp, like a measured tramp, 
 For the clansmen's bones were stout and strong.'* 
 
 Four days from thenco the Saxon troops, 
 Their guns and stores had stowed away 
 Into their ships ; to-morrow they 
 Would cross again the heaving bay. 
 
 And wherefore stood those watchful groups 
 
 On board upon the vessels' poops, 
 On shore on many a rocky height, 
 And towards the ruin turned their sight ? 
 
 The outworks stand, 
 
 And some walls are high, 
 Though a useless heap 
 
 As they meet the eye. 
 Even these must fall. 
 
 The Saxons swear : 
 Each work and wall. 
 They shall level all. 
 
 Ere they sail from Beare. 
 
 The train is laid to the powder store, 
 
 The fire creeps on — in a moment more 
 
 The flame leaps forth with a hoarse dull roar,
 
 DUNBOY. 97 
 
 Dazzling the eye 
 With a wildering light, 
 That makes the noon sky 
 
 Look black as night ! 
 The flash is passed ; a smoky pall 
 
 Hides for a time the wreck around, 
 While fragments of the broken wall, 
 And high-hurled stones, returning, fall 
 On the trembling ground 
 
 With a heavy crash ; 
 Into the sea 
 
 With a noisy plash. 
 The once green bank 
 
 With the Avreck is cumbered ; 
 With beam and plank 
 
 Is the blue tide lumbered. 
 The dust drifts by, the smoke clouds sever, 
 But no castle now 
 Shows its haughty brow, 
 Duuboy is swept from the earth for ever. 
 
 He saw the flash, he heard the sound, 
 As o'er Knockoura's hill he came ; 
 
 He shrieked and made a sudden bound, 
 As if his heart had felt the flame. 
 
 7
 
 9 ft DUNTJOT. 
 
 As if some huge and heavy stone, 
 Forth from the blazing ruin thrown, 
 
 Had struck him down, to earth he fell; 
 A shudder, and a fitful groan. 
 
 Awhile wore all the sic^ns to tell 
 That through the prostrate body ran 
 The hot blood of a living man. 
 
 He rose again, he gazed about. 
 
 His eyes beheld Diuiboy no more ; 
 The very walls were blotted out — 
 He scarcely knew the place, without 
 
 That building by the shore. 
 The sea, the hills, seemed something strange, 
 So great, so sad, the sudden change, 
 
 In one destructive moment -wrought ; 
 He sate him down a moment's space, 
 Within his hands he hid liis face. 
 Again his mind was with the past, — 
 The day he saw that valley last 
 
 Was glowing in his thought. 
 But from the long day-dream he broke, 
 And oft-used words again he spoke : — 
 
 " Aye, be the issue what it may. 
 On this hill-side again to-day, 
 
 I pledge my sacred vow ancAv. 
 By all on Earth my heart holds dear. 
 And all my hopes of Heaven, I swear 
 
 To fight this struggle through.
 
 DUNBOY. 99 
 
 To figlit it through, though well I see 
 
 Few are the hopes that now remain 
 To you, my native land, or me ; 
 
 Our forts are fallen, our chiefs are slain, 
 And men of Irish blood and birth 
 
 Are stooping down to vile disgrace, 
 Showing that scandal to the Earth, 
 
 The rotting of a noble race. 
 Crushed into slaves are royal tribes, 
 
 High chieftains fight for Saxon pay, 
 The sons of kings take foreign bribes, 
 , Brothers their brothers' blood betray, 
 And clan on clan works ruin, while 
 The common foe wins all the isk-. 
 Yet while in all the land I see 
 One shred of our good flag floating free. 
 
 With a hundred men beneath it, 
 I'll still be first in the holy toil. 
 Our foes to slay, their plans to foil ; 
 My bones shall bleach on my native soil, 
 
 Or mine be the last sword sheathed !" 
 
 So spoke the chief, and well he kept 
 His oft' repeated promise true ; 
 
 Though Desmond, hill and vale, was swept 
 By Wilmot, Thomond, and Carew ; 
 
 Yet with a brave and desperate band. 
 
 That flocked to him from half the land.
 
 100 DrNHOY. 
 
 He still defied the Saxons' might, 
 Dashed on their outposts day and night, 
 And many a stately keep and dun, 
 Back from tlieir Irish alUes won ;" 
 Yet like a steady tide arose, 
 The triumph of his Saxon foes. 
 And f^m his side, day after day. 
 Some new support was swept away. 
 Brave TirroU, filled with wide despair, 
 Moved northward from the hills of Beare, 
 And Burke, when all looked darker yet 
 From Donal parted with regret. 
 One gaUant chief, Iracti's lord, 
 
 O'Connor Kerry, still remained. 
 And held unsheathed as good a sword 
 
 As ever Saxon life-blood stained. 
 But vainly Beara's prince and he 
 
 Might hope that struggle to prolong, — 
 No Spanish aid came o'er the sea. 
 
 Their friends grew -weak, their foemen 
 strong ; 
 The true men of the land were slain, 
 
 Cabins as well as castles crushed. 
 And far o'er Munster, hill and plain, 
 
 Tlie very sounds of life Avere hushed. 
 No cattle lowed from bawn or keep. 
 
 No farmer delved witli spade or plougli ; 
 None cared to sow, for who might reap, 
 
 Or see the harvest planted now ?
 
 DUNBOY. 101 
 
 So dii'e the wreck the Saxons made 
 
 With gun and sword, and burning brand, 
 That troops luikept by foreign aid, 
 
 Would famish in the wasted land.^** 
 Sad was the scene to Donal's view, 
 
 As from the Sheehy heights he gazed ; 
 But midst the Ulster hills, he knew, 
 
 His country's flag Avas still upraised. 
 O'Eourke, O'Cahan, brave O'Neill, 
 Despite the Saxons' gold and steel, 
 
 Their treacherous arts, their subtle plans, 
 'Still filled the Pale with woe and dread, 
 Still on to battle bravely led 
 
 The remnants of their broken clans, 
 'Twas now his sole remaining course 
 
 On to their lands to travel fast ; 
 To add to theirs his shattered force. 
 
 And fight the good fight to the last. 
 
 Fair Eileen, prized and treasured long 
 
 All treasures of the Earth above. 
 Whose life was sweetened like a song. 
 
 With tender thought and gloAving love ; 
 Whose lightest ■s\'ish had power to sway 
 
 Brave hearts that battle never shook, 
 Whom chiefs were happy to obey, 
 
 Eewarded by one sunny look —
 
 1 02 DUNROT. 
 
 How sadly chnnged those hours that roll. 
 
 While hid from war's destroying blast, 
 With nought to cheer her sorrowing soul. 
 
 Her days and nights of gloom went past ; 
 A\^iile Donal and his war-worn clan, 
 
 On Muskerry's fields the fight maintained, 
 And but one trusty humble man 
 
 To guard her and her babes remained — 
 Mac Sweeny — ever faithful found, 
 
 Faithful of heart, and strong of arm, 
 Who hiidst ^vild dangers gathering round. 
 
 Would shield his precious charge from harm. 
 Well did lie guard the princely brood, 
 
 Bantiema* and her darling sons. 
 He robbed the eaglets of their food 
 
 To feed the young O'SuUivans,*' 
 From the bright stream hooked up the trout. 
 
 Trapped the fleet hare in copse and field, 
 And rude but bounteous fare spread out 
 
 Where Donal's loves were safe concealed. 
 He sung old songs in accents low, 
 
 To tunes the babes were pleased to hear, 
 He told strange tales of long ago, 
 
 To charm awhile their mother's ear. 
 And held, like fosterer true and brave, 
 The trust his honoured master gave. 
 
 Ho camo, the Pi-ince of Beara came. 
 To that dear nook within the glen, 
 * Bantierna— The Lady of the land ; the Chieftainess.
 
 DUNBOT. 103 
 
 Toil-worn and vanquished, still the same 
 Unclouded brow, unbending frame, 
 
 And eyes of sparkling light, as when 
 Around Dunboy his single name 
 
 Could summon t^vice a thousand men. 
 The same to gentle Eileen too, 
 
 As in those unforgotten days, 
 "When from her fond young heart he drew 
 The glowing love that pure and true 
 
 Still burned with calm and quenchless blaze. 
 He clasped her neck, he kissed her brow, 
 ' He dried the tears she Avept with joy, 
 And owned as deep a gladness now, 
 
 As aught he felt in proud Dunboy. 
 
 He came — 'twas come to this — to take, 
 For their dear Hves, and honour's sake, 
 His loved ones thence ; to bear them forth 
 On that dread journey to the north, 
 For now by Beare or Bantr}''s shore 
 Who O'WTaed his blood was safe no more. 
 His faithful people, wild with grief, 
 Gathered around their glorious chief. 
 Men, women, children, all would go 
 "Where'er he Avent — in weal or woe. 
 In war or peace, would share his lot. 
 But make no home where he was not. 
 He sent not from his exile band, 
 The slow of step, the weak of hand,
 
 J"l Dl'NBOY. 
 
 Wlio swelled the crowd, though well he kuew 
 
 Ilis danger with their number grew ; 
 
 lie placed the feebler forms within 
 
 A triple rank of sturdy men, 
 
 And :ill, one dark December day, 
 
 From Bcara took their mournful way. 
 
 God help the weak ! the world, alas ! 
 Will use them hardly as they pass : 
 God pity Ireland ! she has nurst 
 Of all her foes the fiercest, worst. 
 Her children's ablest plans were laid 
 That Irish blood might be betrayed, 
 Her warriors struck their hardest when 
 The blows fell on their countrymen, 
 And scarce one deed of guilt and shame 
 The strangers, from the day they came, 
 "Wrought in the wronged and outraged land, 
 Unaided by a native hand. 
 
 Onward the sad procession sped, 
 Fast fell the rain and winter snows, 
 
 The way was long, and rough to tread — 
 
 O bitter news, tale of dread — 
 Upon them pressed a cloud of foes ! 
 
 The settlers of the English Pale, 
 
 Swept forth from every wooded vale, 
 
 And Irish traitors nished before. 
 
 To dip their hands in Irish gore.
 
 DXINBOY. 105 
 
 Dire was the hapless clansmen's flight, 
 They fought by day, they fought at night f^ 
 I»Iidst Muskery's hills they strove and bled, 
 LiscarroU's fields they streaked Avith red. 
 Base Barry, with his murderous brood, 
 And Teige Mac Carthy's men, pursued. 
 From rough Sliebh Lougher, Cuffey's troops, 
 Clan Gibbon's fierce and eager groups, 
 All hurried forward to destroy 
 The flying tribe from far Dunboy. 
 Well fought the clan, biit field and flood, 
 ,The course they went was marked with blood, 
 And slain and famished bodies lay 
 Behind them on their fatal way. 
 
 They stood upci. the Shannon's side. 
 The flood ran fast, the way was Avide, 
 No ford was there to travel o'er, 
 No boats to bear them to the shore. 
 While nearer, like a rushing flame, 
 Tipperary's Saxon sherifi" came. 
 Hard was their strait, at last bereft 
 Of every chance, what hope was left ? 
 In gloom each head awhile was bowed. 
 Till spoke the Prince of Beare aloud — 
 
 " Let skiffs of osier twigs be made, 
 
 Kill you your horses, let a hide 
 Tight on each wicker frame be laid. 
 
 Launch the light curraghs on the tide.
 
 lOG DUNBOY. 
 
 Step softly in : vliat more to say 
 
 To boatmen nursed on Bantry Bay ?" 
 
 Soon on the waves the curraghs tossed, 
 From land to land they safely crossed, 
 But just as half the shattered ranks 
 Were landed on the further banks, 
 Upon the yet remaining few, 
 The sheriff's savage party flew. 
 Bloody and brief the fight that sped. 
 Ere back the beaten Palesmen fled. 
 And the light curraghs onward bore 
 The \dctors to the Galway shore. 
 
 One thousand persons, young and old, 
 
 They marched from Bantry's deep blue tide, 
 
 Two hundred — every mortal told. 
 They stood upon the Shannon's side, 
 
 And hardships Avorse than aught they met. 
 
 Lay in the path before them yet. 
 
 By Aughrim's slopes, beside a wood. 
 
 An EngUsh force well posted stood, 
 
 Trained soldiers all, and ably led. 
 
 With captain Malby at their head. 
 
 In numbers thrice exceeding those 
 
 Whose way they gathered to oppose. 
 
 And sworn to leave no living man 
 
 That evening of the rebel clan.
 
 DUNBOY. 107 
 
 But on the desperate patriots dashed, 
 
 Undaunted by that stem array, 
 Like tongues of fire their weapons flashed. 
 
 As on they clove and dug their way 
 Through yielding ranks ; like men possessed, 
 
 They raged amidst the Saxon mass, 
 Strong men went down where'er they pressed, 
 
 Like broken reeds or trampled grass. 
 On through the battle, to and fro, 
 
 The Prince of Beara fiercely fought, 
 Who saw his restless eyes, might know 
 
 That for some certain foe he sought. 
 One moment more, that foe was seen, 
 'Twas Malby — none might stand between 
 
 The chieftains as with tiger bound 
 They leaped to meet, they fenced, they gripped, 
 Turned, twisted, straightened, sudden slipped. 
 
 And rolled upon the bloody ground. 
 Turned o'er and o'er, with limbs inlocked. 
 Now struggling hard, noAV slowly rocked 
 With balanced strength : one moment grown 
 Stiff as one solid block of stone. 
 Next moment quick with vigorous life. 
 Two forms, but grasped in mortal strife. 
 Another pause, the longest since 
 The fight began ; — uprose the Prince, 
 His red right hand held by the hair 
 
 The English captain's severed head. 
 He flung the trophy high in air — 
 Burst from the Irish ranks a cheer —
 
 108 nuNnoY. 
 
 IIuiTa, hurra ! what troops could then 
 Witlistand that rush of joyful men — 
 The Saxons wavered, shrunk with fear. 
 Turned from the Mutidy field and fled.'-" 
 
 But, to the clansmen, dire the cost 
 
 Of every fight they won or lost. 
 
 From each attack they battled through, 
 
 Their dwindling force emerged more few, 
 
 And fainter, fewer, now they stood, 
 
 Than when they crossed the Shannon's flood. 
 
 Still onward pressed the AvaiTior band, 
 
 Till on O'lioui-ke of Breifny's land, 
 
 Tired, wounded, faint, at length they found 
 
 One friendly spot of Irish ground. 
 
 Their rest was short, their stay Avas brief, 
 
 The brave O'liourke, bowed dowTi with grief, 
 
 Surrounded by the spreading Pale, 
 
 His wasted strength of no avail, 
 
 Foemen to check, or friends to save, 
 
 Submission to the Saxons gave. 
 
 But Beara's sons not even now 
 
 Beneath the hateful yoke would bow. 
 
 One chief stiU ■waged the patriot war, 
 
 And they would seek him, near or far. 
 
 Before their wounds had time to heal. 
 
 They bared again their glittering steel, 
 
 Went forth, and fought through conflicts stern, 
 
 Till by the brink of broad Lough Erne
 
 DTJXBur. 109 
 
 The brave men stood — but thirty five 
 Out of one thousand left alive — 
 Then their's the woe, the grief to learn 
 In vain, in vain their long, long toil, 
 In vain their life-blood Avet the soil, 
 He too surrendered — Hugh O'Neill ! 
 And Ireland,' like a swamp of gore. 
 Lay waste and still from shore to shore. 
 
 'Twas summer night, the rude winds slept, 
 As o'er the bay a vessel crept. 
 Two muffled forms went pacing slow 
 Along her smooth deck, to and fro, 
 Watching betimes the far stretched spars 
 Sway back and forward through the stars, 
 Pausing to hear the watch dogs' bark 
 From distant fields come through the dark, 
 And hear the heaving waters snore 
 Along the old familiar shore. 
 Whose headlands only met the sight 
 As gloomier patches of the night. 
 On passed the ship with easy glide, ' 
 Unto Bearehaven's tranquil tide ; 
 Her low, black boat, in calm profound. 
 Bore on one form to Beara's groimd. 
 He moved about with moody pace. 
 He travelled o'er and o'er the place, 
 
 8
 
 1 10 DI'NBOT. 
 
 Then, wlien tlie brightening of the day 
 Had warned him from the scene away, 
 He souglit the sacred spot ai' all, 
 The ruin — once a castle tall — 
 And Avept upon the broken wall. 
 
 On board ! on board ; fair blows the wind, 
 
 The Caha hills sink doA\Ti behind ; 
 
 Beare island dips, tall Hungry too, 
 
 !Melts down into the sea of ijlue, 
 
 No more, except in dreams, to rise, 
 
 To Donal's or to Eileen's eyes. 
 
 Like winter rain, fast fell her tears, 
 
 And he, whose heart through troubled years 
 
 Its inward griefs in silence kept, 
 
 Bowed down his head, and wildly wept. 
 
 In Spain, high placed beside tlie king, 
 
 The wearied exiles rest at last. 
 If honoiu-s, wealth, and peace could bring 
 
 A charm to hide the painful past, 
 'Twas Donal's now ;" but annals say 
 His heart Avas by his native bay ; 
 His Avords Avere of the gallant men 
 Whose good SAVords Hashed through pass and glen 
 Where'er he led ; and when he thought 
 O'er all the wrongs the Saxon Avrought, 
 The deep dyed crimes that Heaven must hate. 
 And Go J will punish, soon or late.
 
 f 
 
 DUNBOT. Ill 
 
 Oft did Ms tliotiglits break out aloud, 
 And many a time lie firmly -vowed 
 His race, thougli now proscribed and banned, 
 Would have and hold their native land, 
 And guard with patriot pride and joy, 
 The very stones of old Dunboy.
 
 SONGS AND POEMS.* 
 
 FISHEE^IAN'S PRAYER. 
 
 The Sun is setting angrily, 
 
 In threat'ning gusts the -wind is blowing — 
 Holy Mary ! Star of the Sea ! 
 Speed our small bark fast and free 
 
 O'er the homeward way we're going ! 
 
 We left the land as the morning bright 
 
 Purpled the smooth sea all before us — 
 We prayed to God, and our hearts were light, 
 We placed our bai'k in thy saving sight, 
 
 And knew thou would'st Avell Avatch o'er us. 
 
 * The following pieces are re-printed from the Nation 
 newspaper, to whicli journal they, with others not in- 
 cluded in this volume, were contributed by the writer at 
 various times within the past few years. Many of them 
 received a large circulation from journals published in 
 Ireland and in America — losing, in several cases, during 
 their progress, the signature or initials attached to them 
 on their first appearance, and acquiring new ones in place 
 of them. Some " smart" gentleman, who gave his name, 
 had one of them published in a Boston paper, with a 
 line stating that he had written it expressly for that 
 journal. They are indeed but small matters, yet the 
 owner does not desire to see them appropriated b}' other 
 persons ; and, therefore, it is not unnecessary to preface 
 their I'e-publication with this note.
 
 1 1 I SONGS AND ronis. 
 
 But now the sun sets angrily, 
 
 From hl.ick wild clouds the wind is blowing — 
 Holy Mary ! Star of the Sea! 
 Send our small hark last and free 
 
 O'er the darkling way we're going ! 
 
 We fished the deep the live-long day, 
 
 The waves weie rich, through God's good plea- 
 sure ; 
 "We ventured far from our own bright bay. 
 And lingered late; we fain would stay 
 'Till tilled with the shining treasure. 
 
 But now the night falls threat'ningly, 
 
 The sea runs high with the fierce Avind blowing — 
 
 Holy ilary ! Star of the Sea ! 
 
 Our light, our guide, our safety be, 
 O'er the stormy way we're going ! 
 
 We pass the point where the tempest's strain 
 Is lightened off by the land's high cover ; 
 
 OurTillafre liprhts shine out again — 
 
 I know my own in my Avindow pane, 
 And the tall church glooming over. 
 
 Holy Mary ! Star of the Sea ! 
 
 With grateful love our hearts are glowing ; 
 Behold Ave bless thy Son and thee ! 
 Oh, still our light and safety be 
 
 O'er the last dread course Ave're going !
 
 SONGS AND POEMS. 1 1 i> 
 
 A SOLDIER'S WAKE. 
 
 "A young soldier of tlie IStli Royal Irish, named MacDonnell, 
 ■was blown to atoms before Scbastopol. A few days since, our youug 
 hero's widowed mother had his medal with four clasps presented 
 to her, the only relic of her son. In the course of tlie evening tlie 
 poor woman ' laid out' the medal on tlie kitchen table, and having 
 procured four mould candles, she collected her neighbours and kept 
 up the 'wake' mitil an early hour the following morning. — Tralee 
 Paper. 
 
 And this is all she has to lay 
 To-night upon the sno^vy sheets 
 
 Before the friends who come the Avay, 
 And sighing take their hnmble seats — • 
 
 This medal, bravely, dearly won, 
 
 Poor token of her gallant son. 
 
 But over this, as nought beside 
 Of him she loved to her remains. 
 
 The lights are lit, the croon is cried, 
 And women weep in saddest strains, 
 
 While men who knew his boyhood well, 
 
 Say, foes went down before he fell. 
 
 These clasps and medal ; only these ! 
 
 For this she nursed and loved him long, 
 She rocked him softly on her knees. 
 
 And filled his ears with pleasant song, 
 And saw him, Avith a mother's pride, 
 Grow up and strengthen by her side.
 
 1 1 6 SONliS AND P0EXI5. 
 
 Till bright ■\vitli manhood's glowing charnis 
 lie in his turn licr nurse became, 
 
 He clasped her in his manly arms, 
 
 xVnd fondly pi'opped her drooping frame. 
 
 Ilor step grew weak, her eye grew dim, 
 
 But then she lived and moved in him. 
 
 He went ; he joined the deadly fight. 
 His true heart loved her not the less ; 
 
 But these are all she has to-night 
 To light and cheer her loneliness, — 
 
 These silver honours, dearly won. 
 
 Poor tokens of her gallant son. 
 
 But even these, to-morrow mom, 
 
 When lights burn out and friends depart. 
 
 Shall round her withered neck be worn, 
 Sliall lie upon her weary heart 
 
 Till death, for his dear memory's sake. 
 
 And then — shall deck another wake. 
 
 STEERING HOME. 
 
 Far out beyond our sheltered bay. 
 Against the golden evening sky, 
 
 A brown speck rises, then away 
 It sinks — it dwindles from my eye.
 
 SONGS AND POEMS. 117 
 
 Again it rises ; drawing nigh, 
 
 Its well kno^\nl sliape grows shai-p and clear — 
 
 It is his bark, my Donal dear ! 
 And oh ! though small a speck it be. 
 
 Kind Heaven, that knows my hope and fear, 
 Can tell the world it holds for me. 
 
 My boat of boats is steering home — 
 She bends and sways before the wind ; 
 
 I cannot see the milky foam 
 
 Beneath her bows and far behind. 
 
 • But oh ! I know my love will find, 
 Howe'er the evening current flows, 
 Howe'er the rising night wind blows, 
 
 The shortest course his keel can dart 
 From where he is, to where he knows 
 
 I wait to clasp him to my heart. 
 
 Come, Donal, home ! See by my side 
 Your little sons, impatient too. 
 
 All day they loitered by the tide, 
 And prattled of your boat and you. 
 Into the glancing waves they threw 
 Some little chips : the surges bore 
 Their tiny vessels back to shore. 
 
 Then Avould they clap their han^s and say 
 The first was youi-'s : then o'er and o'er, 
 
 Would ask me why you stayed away.
 
 J 1 8 SONGS AND I'OEMS. 
 
 Come, Donal, home ! The red sun sets; 
 
 Come to your cliildren dear, and me; 
 And bring us I'ull or empty nets, 
 
 A scene of joy our hearth shall be. 
 
 You'll tell mo stories of the sea ; 
 
 And 1 will sing the songs you said 
 
 "Were sweet as wild sea-music made 
 By meniiaids on the weedy rocks, 
 
 "When in some sheltered quiet shade, 
 They sing, and comb their (Irij)ping locks. 
 
 He comes I he comes ! My boat is near ; 
 
 I know her mainsail's narrow peak. 
 They haul her flowing sheets — I hear 
 
 The dry sheeves on their pivots creak. 
 
 He waves his hand ; I hear him speak - 
 
 Come to the beach, my sons, Avith me ; 
 
 He'll greet us from her side ; and we 
 Shall meet him when he leaps to shore ; 
 
 Then take him home, and bid him see 
 Our brighter deck — our cottage floor. 
 
 TO yiY BROTHER. 
 
 Though Fate will permit us no longer 
 To straggle through life side by side, 
 
 Let our love but grow purer and stronger. 
 However our hearts may be tried.
 
 / 
 
 SONGS AND POEMS. 1 1 9 
 
 We are parted — it may be for ever — 
 But, tliougii we be far from each other, 
 
 One bond that no distance can sever 
 Shall always connect vxs, my Brother. 
 
 And oft, when my prospects look dreary, 
 
 "Wlien those I have trusted, deceive; 
 "Wlien I sink, disappointed and weary, 
 
 And scarcely know what to beheve ; 
 When the dark clouds of life gather o'er me, 
 
 One star shall outshine every other; 
 And the long, rugged pathway before me 
 
 Grow bright A\ith the love of my Brother. 
 
 How oft does some sweet recollection, 
 
 From various occasions, arise. 
 That touches the chords of affection. 
 
 And brings a hot dew to my eyes — 
 How oft does some incident waken 
 
 The thoughts I could share with no other ; 
 And my heart, like a chamber forsaken, 
 
 Re-echo my wish for my Brother ! 
 
 As barques that the tempests have driven 
 
 And tossed far apart on the main. 
 Steer on by the beacons of Heaven, 
 
 And meet in one harbour again ; 
 Even so, if the storms of existence 
 
 Have parted us here from each other. 
 Let us steer to that light in the distance, 
 
 And meet in that haven, my Brother !
 
 120 
 
 SUNUS AND POEMS. 
 
 WESTWARD, II O! 
 
 My Mary ban,* 'tis nearly dawn, 
 
 Come down, my Mary dear ; 
 And let not those, our sleeping foes, 
 
 Your passing footsteps hear. 
 For should they wake, my life they'd td^Ke, 
 
 Or take away from me 
 My more than life, my plighted wife — 
 
 My Mary ban, machrce. 
 
 Aly love, my pride, the world is wide, 
 
 And wheresoe'er we roam. 
 We've strength, and youth, and love, and truth, 
 
 To build ourselves a home. 
 There's nought but care and sorrow here 
 
 In everything I see ; 
 And nothing bright, by day or night, 
 
 But Mary ban, machree. 
 
 My love ! I knew your word was true ; 
 
 Your heart was strong and brave. 
 We'll seek, asthore, the better shore 
 
 That smiles beyond the wave ! 
 
 bAii— pronounced " bawn". means fair.
 
 SONGS AND POEMS. 121 
 
 Our lot, we know, where'er Ave go, 
 
 A lot of toil must be ; 
 But yet away we start to-day, 
 
 My Mary ban, machree. 
 
 A SERENADE. 
 
 My Lady fair ! tliy gentle slumbers 
 
 Will not shut out this lay of mine, 
 But through thine ear its plaintive numbers 
 
 Shall steal into thy dreams divine. 
 The murmur of a streamlet flowing 
 
 Through simny lands, the strain may be, 
 Or wind through blossomed foliage blowing, 
 
 But yet 'twill breathe of love and thee. 
 
 And when from thy bright dreams awaking, 
 
 Those plaintive notes thou still ^alt hear, 
 Upon the night vnad softly breaking. 
 
 While all beside is dark and drear ; 
 Then fancy's wiles no more misleading, 
 
 Thy heart will know the strain to be 
 The fond appeal, the fervent pleading, 
 
 That bursts from mine for love and thee.
 
 1-2 SONGS AND POEMS. 
 
 Like some pale plant in darkness pining, 
 
 That struggles toward the one bright ray 
 Into its cheerless prison shining, 
 
 So I too fade and pine away ; 
 And so I creep unto thy dwelling, 
 
 Before thy window pane, to see 
 The light that, gloom and grief dispelling, 
 
 Falls on my soul from love and thee. 
 
 The path I've traced is dark and lonely, 
 
 And distant far my cottage lies, 
 But let me hear thy voice, and only 
 
 One moment see thy beaming eyes ! 
 Then dangers wild may wait before me — 
 
 Then Heaven may hide its stars from me, 
 And thunders burst around and o'er me, 
 
 I'll only think of love and thee. 
 
 THE LITTLE WIFE. 
 
 FroANTi not, my love ! ah, let me chase 
 Away the shade of care that lies 
 
 To-night so darkly on your face. 
 And mist-like o'er your manly eyes. 
 
 Ah, let me try the winning ways
 
 ( 
 
 SONGS AND POEMS. 123 
 
 You said Avere mine — the angel art 
 To poiir at once ten thousand rays 
 Of dancing sunlight on your heart ! 
 
 My love, my life ! 
 
 Your little wife 
 Must bid these gloomy thoughts depart. 
 
 When love was young and hopes were bright, 
 
 I thought, 'midst all our dreams of bHss, 
 That clouds might come Hke these to-night. 
 
 And hours of sorrow such as this. 
 And then, I said, my task shall be 
 
 To soothe his heart so fond and true, 
 And he who loves me thus, shall see 
 
 How much his little wife can do. 
 My heart, my life. 
 Your little wife 
 
 Must bid you dream those dreams anew. 
 
 Then let me lift those locks that fall 
 
 So wildly o'er your lofty brow, 
 And smooth, with fingers soft and small. 
 
 The veins that cord your temples now. 
 How oft, when ached your Avearied head. 
 
 From manly care, or thought divine. 
 You've held me to your heart, and said 
 
 You Avanted love so deep as mine ! 
 'My ovra, my life ! 
 Your little mfe. 
 
 That love is all her life's design.
 
 1 1' 1 SONGS AND POKMS. 
 
 And here it is — a love as Avild 
 
 As e'er defied the world's control ; 
 The fondness of a tearful child, 
 
 The passion of a woman's soul, 
 All mingled in my breast for thee, 
 
 In one hot tide — I cannot speak : 
 But feel my thx-obbing heart, and see 
 
 Its brightness in my burning cheek — 
 My Icve, my life ! 
 Your little wife 
 
 Must cheer you, or her heart will break. 
 
 Ah, now the breast I found so cold, 
 
 Grows Avarm within my close embrace ; 
 And smiles as sweet as those of old 
 
 Are stealing softly o'er your face ; 
 And far Avithin your brightening eyes 
 
 ^ly image, true and clear, I see ; 
 Each shade of care and sorrow flies, 
 
 And leaves your heart again to me— 
 My love, my life ! 
 Your little wife 
 
 Its only Queen must ever be.
 
 SONGS AND POEJIS. 125 
 
 A WINTER NIGHT. 
 
 Come on, come on, my heart of hearts, 
 
 Come fondly nigh to me : 
 Our hearth is bright this wintry night, 
 
 Howe'er the skies may be. 
 Dark clouds have cloaked our darling moon. 
 
 There's not a star to see ; 
 My moon, my star, my sun you are, 
 
 And more than all to me. 
 
 To-nio-ht the wind is howlina; loud 
 
 Tlirough turrets grand and high ; 
 With softer rush, with swell and hush. 
 
 We hear it hurry by. 
 The rain upon our cottage thatch 
 
 Is drifting noiselessly — 
 So soft may all life's tempests fall 
 
 On you, my love, and me. 
 
 Or let them bring us icy words. 
 
 And looks as cold as snow — 
 They'll melt before our cottage door. 
 
 We'll thaw them where we go. 
 They cannot touch our hearts of fire, 
 
 Or dim those eyes of blue, 
 Or e'er unfold the clasp I hold, 
 
 My heart of hearts, of you.
 
 126 SONGS AND rOEMS. 
 
 Or let the winter last for aye, 
 
 Let all its rain be hail, 
 Let clouds the worst around us burst, 
 
 And wild words load the gale. 
 I still shall have a summer bright, 
 
 A ilower of fairest hue, 
 And liirht and heat, and fruitage sweet, 
 
 My heart of hearts, in you. 
 
 THE LITTLE BARQUE. 
 
 Oh I sailor from yon stately ship, 
 
 Whose wet sails tell a stormy tale. 
 Tell me if on your fearful trip 
 You've seen a small barque roll and dip, 
 And live throughout the gale ? 
 
 She left these shores when winds wore low, 
 
 With white sails set and flag unfurled ; 
 Her crew were told those gales would blow, 
 Those thunders burst — ^yet Avould they go, 
 And brave the stormy world. 
 
 " I've passed the barque far out at sea, 
 Along the mountain waves she flew ; 
 Tlie Avaters boiled beneath her lee. 
 Pier spars were bent as spars could be. 
 Yet fearless seemed the crew.
 
 SONGS AND POEMS. 127 
 
 "And like a bird she swept along, 
 
 With white sails set, and flag unfurled ; 
 The storm around was mixed with song, 
 She gilt the waves she rolled among. 
 And proudly braved the world. 
 
 " And ever upAvard looked the crew, 
 As if to say, ' though dark it be, 
 The brilliant sun will yet burst through, 
 Light clouds will fleck a sky of blue. 
 And soft winds sweep the sea'. 
 
 " She passed ; she faded fi'om my sight. 
 The darkness fell. I only say, 
 That barque whose freight was love and 
 
 light, 
 Might weather through so Avild a night, 
 When passed was such a day". 
 
 God bless the barque and bless the crew, 
 
 And as they hope, so may it be, 
 That brilliant suns will soon burst throuQ:h, 
 Light clouds soon fleck a sky of blue, 
 
 And soft Avinds sweep the sea.
 
 12b SONGS AND rOEMS. 
 
 home: HOME! 
 
 In great Columljia's grandest town, 
 
 I toil and think the wliole day long ; 
 And sometimes sigh, Imt never frown, 
 For lltij)e still sings a cheerful song^ 
 " Toil, toil away. 
 Fast comes the day, 
 
 Wlien once again your eyes shall see 
 Your own dear isle. 
 And her whose smile 
 Is dearer still to thee". 
 
 Lean o'er your anchor, Hope divine, 
 
 I inly cry ; oh, tell me more 
 Of lier whose pure young heart was mine, 
 And yet may be, this trial o'er. 
 " Her large white brow 
 Is calmer now — 
 
 More woman sweet her face appears ; 
 Her brown eyes seem 
 For aye to dream, 
 
 And not unused to tears". 
 
 Again I bend me o'er my task. 
 
 With nerves new strung and gladdened will ; 
 Yet something more my heart would ask ; 
 
 A shadow haunts my spirit still —
 
 SONGS AND POEMS. 129 
 
 Her love ? Her truth ? 
 Her voAvs of youth ? 
 
 " She steals away with face all pale, 
 To gaze each day 
 G'er ocean's spray, 
 
 For some expected sail". 
 
 Kind Hope ! oh ! bid her not to fear 
 
 My heart is changed, or vows Avere vain. 
 I will not linger longer here, 
 
 But haste across tlie stormy main 
 That rolls and raves 
 In mountain waves, 
 
 Between my native land and me — 
 My own dear isle. 
 And her whose smile 
 I've pined so long to see. 
 
 And with the wealth my hands have won, 
 One home shall soon be hers and mine, 
 A cottage fronting to the sun, 
 
 A few bright fields, and glossy kine ; 
 And we shall tread 
 The soil, nor dread 
 
 The village tyrant as of yore, 
 But sow and reap, 
 And wake and sleep, 
 Secure for evermore.
 
 1 30 SONGS AND POEMS. 
 
 SONG FliOM THE BACKWOODS. 
 
 Deep in Canadian •woods we've met, 
 
 From one bright island ilown ; 
 Great is the hind we tread, but yet 
 
 Our hearts are with our own. 
 And ere we leave this shanty small, 
 While fades the autumn day, 
 We'll toast old Ireland ! 
 Dear Old Ireland ! 
 Ireland, boys, Hurra ! 
 
 We've heard her faults a hundred times. 
 
 The new ones and the old. 
 In songs and sermons, rants and rhymes, 
 
 Enlarged some fifty fold. 
 But take them all, the great and small, 
 And this w^e've got to say : — 
 Here's dear old Ireland ! 
 Good Old Ireland ! 
 Ireland, boys. Hurra ! 
 
 We know that brave and good men tried 
 
 To snap her rusty chain, 
 That patriots suffered, martyrs died, 
 
 And all, 'tis said, in A-ain ; 
 But no, boys, no! a glance will show
 
 SONGS AND POEMS. 131 
 
 How far they've won their way — 
 Here's good Old Ireland ! 
 Loved Old Ireland ! 
 Ireland, boys, Hurra ! 
 
 We've seen the weddmg and the wake, 
 
 The patron and the fair ; 
 The stuff they take, the fun they make, 
 
 And the heads they break down there, 
 With a loud " hurroo" and a " pillalu", 
 And a thundering " clear the way !" — 
 Here's gay Old Ireland! 
 Dear Old Ireland ! 
 Ireland, boys, Hurra ! 
 
 And well we know in the cool gray eves, 
 
 Wlien the hard day's work is o'er. 
 How soft and sweet are the words that greet 
 
 The friends who meet once more ; 
 With " Mary machree !" and " My Pat ! 'tis he !' 
 And " My own heart night and day !" 
 Ah, fond old Ireland ! 
 Dear Old Ireland ! 
 Ireland, boys. Hurra ! 
 
 And happy and bright are the groups that pass 
 From their peaceful homes, for miles 
 
 O'er fields, and roads, and hills, to Mass, 
 When Sunday morning smiles !
 
 132 SONGS AND POEMS. 
 
 And deep the zeal their true hearts feci 
 Wlien low they kneel and pray. 
 Oil, dear old Ireland ! 
 Blest Old Ireland ! 
 Ireland, boys, Hurra! 
 
 But deep in Canadian woods we've met, 
 
 And we never may see again 
 The dear old isle where our hearts are set, 
 
 And our first fond hopes remain! 
 But come, fill up another cup, 
 And with every sup let's say — 
 Here's loved old Ireland! 
 Good Old Ireland ! 
 Ireland, boys, Hurra! 
 
 THE IRISH-AMERICAN. 
 
 Columbia the free is the land of my birth, 
 And my paths have been all on American earth ; 
 But my blood is as Irish as any can be, 
 And my heart is with Erin afar o'er the sea. 
 
 My fzither, and mother, and fr'"nd<! all around, 
 Are daughters and sons of the sainted old ground — 
 They rambled its bright plains and mountains 
 
 among. 
 And filled its fair valleys with laugh and with song.
 
 i 
 
 SONGS AND POEMS. 133 
 
 But I sing their sweet music, and often they ovnx 
 It is true to old Ireland in style and in tone ; 
 I dance their gay dances, and hear them with glee 
 Say each touch tells of Erin afar o'er the sea. 
 
 I have tufts of green shamrock in sods they 
 
 brought o'er, 
 I have shells they picked up ere they stepj ed 
 
 from the shore, 
 I have books that are treasuz'es ; the fondest 
 
 I hold 
 Is " The Melodies", clasped and nigh covered 
 
 with gold. 
 
 My pictures are pictures of scenes that are dear, 
 For the beauties they are, or the glories they 
 
 were, 
 And of good men and great men whose merits 
 
 shall be 
 Xong the pride of green Erin afar o'er the sea. 
 
 If I were in beautiful Dublin to-day. 
 To the spots I hold sacred I'd soon find my way, 
 For I know Avhcre O'Connell and Curran are laid. 
 And where loved Eobert Emmett sleeps cold 
 "in the shade". 
 
 And if I were in Wexford — ^how fondly I'd trace 
 Each field I have marked on my maps of the place, 
 
 9
 
 '■51 SONGS AND rOF.MS. 
 
 Where the brave Ninety-Eight men poured hotly 
 
 and fioe 
 Their blood lor dear Erin afar o'er tlic sea. 
 
 Dear home of my fatlicrs ! I'd liold thee to blame, 
 And my cheeks would at times take the crimson 
 
 of shame, 
 Did thy sad tale not show, in each sorrow-stained 
 
 line, 
 That the might of thy tyrant was greater than 
 
 tliine. 
 
 But her soldiers are many, abroad and at home, 
 Her ships on all oceans are ploughing the foam. 
 And her wealth is untold — sure no equal was she 
 For poor plundered Erin afar o'er the sea. 
 
 Yet they tell me the strife is not yet given o'er — 
 That the gallant old Island will try it once more ; 
 And will call, with her haq-. when her flag is 
 
 unfurled. 
 Her sons, and their sons, from the ends of the 
 
 world. 
 
 If so, I've a rifle that's true to a hair, 
 
 A brain that can plan and a hand that can dare ; 
 
 And the summons will scarce have died out, when 
 
 I'll be, 
 Mid the green fields of Erin afar o'er the sea.
 
 f 
 
 SONGS AND POEMS. 135 
 
 FAR AWAY. 
 
 Far far away from my native land, 
 With a heavy heart and a weary hand, 
 My life is wasted in care and toil, 
 And my bones shall lie in a foreign soil. 
 
 I little thought that a few short years 
 Would quench my bliss in a tide of tears, 
 And see me fly o'er the ocean foam, 
 'Like a lonely bird from a ruined home. 
 
 The grass grows high on my cottage floor, 
 The wild wind sighs through the open door ; 
 The rain falls do-wm, and the sunbeams shine, 
 Through the roof that once sheltered me and mine. 
 
 ■■^o* 
 
 Still and cold is the hearth to-night, 
 
 Where the song Avas loud, and the laugh Avas light, 
 
 Where the neighbou.rs came from their homes 
 
 around. 
 And a loving welcome was always found. 
 
 Where the Avife of my heart Avould sing to me 
 
 The Irish music that seemed to be 
 
 Some spirit's sighing, softly driven 
 
 Through the golden bars of the gates of Heaven.
 
 13C SONGS AND POEMS. 
 
 But blight and ruin came down ere long, 
 And quelled the laughter and hushed the song ; 
 And in the hour of our deep distress 
 The landlord's bosom was merciless. 
 
 And we were tlirown on the roadside hare, 
 Where my darlings pined in the piercing air — 
 To my helpless form for awhile they clung. 
 But she was Avcak, and my boys were young. 
 
 I would I were in that soft green shade, 
 Where the grave of all that I loved I made, 
 To end my days, and to ease my woes, 
 By my dear ones' side in a long repose. 
 
 But, alas ! far, far from my native land, 
 With a heavy heart and a weary hand, 
 My life is wasted in care and toil, 
 And my bones shall lie in a foreign soil. 
 
 THE OLD EXILE. 
 
 A youth to manhood growing, 
 With dark brown curls flowing. 
 O'er brow and temples glowing, 
 
 I came across the sea ; 
 And now my head is hoary.
 
 SONGS AIs^D POEMS. 137 
 
 But, land of song and story, 
 Green isle of ancient glory, 
 
 My heart is still witli thee. 
 
 Thy hopes still ching around me. 
 Thy bonds for ever bound me. 
 And all occasions found me 
 
 Within the midst of those 
 Whose love Avas ever paid thee, 
 Wlio met to cheer and aid thee, 
 And at a distance made thee 
 
 A terror to thy foes. 
 
 Long through this sad sojoiiruing. 
 My heart and brtiin were burning 
 With hopes of yet returning 
 
 To Erin glad and free ; 
 My hopes were unavailing, 
 I feel my strength is failing, 
 And still that bitter wailing 
 
 Is drifting o'er the sea. 
 
 But I have yet, thank Heaven, 
 Four gallant sons, of seven 
 My Irish wife has given, 
 
 To soothe my heart's dechne ; 
 Four yoiiths of noble bearing, 
 Of spirits high and daring. 
 Whose hearts are ever sharing 
 
 Those cherished dreams of muie.
 
 13S SONGS AND POHMS. 
 
 And slioiilfl my dear land ever 
 RcMiow the old endeavour 
 Her fatal bonds to sever, 
 
 Though 1 can strive no more, 
 Four soldiers brave I'll send her, 
 To aid her and defend her, 
 And thus I still can render 
 
 Allegiance, as of yore. 
 
 I have one gentle daughter : 
 How fondly have I taught her 
 Of Erin o'er the water. 
 
 An island green and fair ; 
 And marked her bright eyes shining 
 As on my knees reclining, 
 I kissed her, while entwining 
 
 Bright shamrocks in her hair. 
 
 Her mother's songs she sings me, 
 Sweet thoughts of home she brings me ; 
 The secret pang that Avrings me. 
 
 Her breast can never know. 
 But Irish love so purely. 
 Runs through, I rest securely 
 Thereon, and say that surely, 
 
 'Twill never nurse a foe. 
 
 But life is fading slowly. 
 My friends must lay me lowly 
 Far from that abbey holy
 
 I 
 
 SONGS AND POEMS. 139 
 
 I loved througli all the past. 
 The ■world grows dim before me 
 A broad wing closes o'er me — 
 But, Erin dear that bore me, 
 
 I love thee to the last. 
 
 THE GREEN FLAG. 
 
 Let sages frown, let cynics sneer, 
 
 Let heartless cowards doubt and fear, 
 
 Let traitors barter and betray, 
 
 And hollow friends go creep away ; 
 
 Through sun and shade, through good and ill, 
 
 We'll keep the Green Flag flying still. 
 
 Till o'er the isle, at length, we see 
 
 Its bright folds Avave triumphantly ! 
 
 Our band though small, our blades though few, 
 
 Have met the worst oiir foe can do ; 
 
 And if our cause could fail, we know 
 
 This strife had ended long ago ; 
 
 But now, by all that cause has cost, 
 
 Our sacred hope shall not be lost. 
 
 Above this isle we yet shall see 
 
 The Green Flag wave triumphantly ! 
 
 The axe, the gibbet, and the chain, 
 Have done, and do their work in vain ;
 
 1-J*^ SONGS AND POF..MS. 
 
 Our martyrs fall, our heroes bleed, 
 
 But gallant men again succeed ; 
 
 And, by the ashes of the dead, 
 
 The tears they wept, the blood they slied, 
 
 Above this isle we yet shall see 
 
 The Green Flag wave triuinphantly I 
 
 MICHAKL DWVEK. 
 
 "At length, brave Michael Dwyer, you and your 
 
 trusty men 
 Are hunted o'er the mountains and tracked into 
 
 the glen. 
 Sleep not, but watch and listen; keep ready 
 
 blade and l)all ; 
 The soldiers know your liiding to-night in wild 
 
 Email".* 
 
 * The glen of Email, in the county of AVicklow. For 
 a sketch of the adventures of Michael Dwyer, see Dr. 
 Rladden's Lives of the United Irishmen. Many were 
 Dwyers hair-breadth escapes, for some of wliith he was 
 indebted to the kindness of a soldier who used to give 
 liim timely warning when the military were on his 
 track.
 
 SONGS AND POEMS. 141 
 
 The soldiers searched the valley, and towards the 
 
 dawn of day 
 Discovered where the outlaws, the dauntless 
 
 rebels, lay 
 Around the little cottage they form'd into a ring, 
 And called out, " Michael Dwyer ! surrender to 
 
 the king !" 
 
 Thus answered Michael Dwyer : " Into this house 
 
 we came, 
 Unasked by those ^who own it — they cannot be 
 
 to blame. 
 Then let those peaceful people unquestioned pass 
 
 you through. 
 And when they're placed in safety, I'll tell you 
 
 what we'll do". 
 
 'Twas done ; " And now", said Dwyer, " your 
 
 work you may begin. 
 You are a hundred outside — we're only four 
 
 within ; 
 We've heard your haughty summons, and this 
 
 is our reply. 
 We're true United Irishmen, we'll fight until we 
 
 die". 
 
 Then burst the war's red lightning, then poured 
 
 the leaden rain, 
 The hills around reecho'd the thunder peals again.
 
 I 12 SONGS AND rOLMS. 
 
 The soldiers falling round him, brave Dwyer 
 
 sees with pride, 
 But, ah ! one gallant comrade is wounded by his 
 
 side. 
 
 Yet there arc tiuve ixnuiming, good battle still 
 to do, 
 
 Their hands are strong and steady, their aim is 
 quick and true — 
 
 But hark that fui-ious shouting the savage sol- 
 diers raise ! 
 
 The house is fired around them ! The roof is in 
 a blaze ! 
 
 And brighter every moment the lurid flame arose, 
 And louder swelled the laughter and cheering of 
 
 their foes. 
 Then spake the brave M'Alister, the weak and 
 
 wounded man, 
 "You can escape, my comrades, and this shall 
 
 be your plan : 
 
 *' Place in my hands a musket, then lie upon the 
 
 floor, 
 I'll stand before the soldiers, and open wide the 
 
 door. 
 They'll pour into my bosom the fire of their 
 
 array ; 
 Then, whilst their guns are empty, dash through 
 
 them and away !"
 
 f 
 
 SONGS AND POEMS. 143 
 
 He stood befoi'e his foemen, revealed amidst the 
 
 flame, 
 From out their levelled pieces the wished for 
 
 volley came. 
 Up sprang the three survivors for whom the 
 
 hero died, 
 But only Michael D^vyer burst through the ranks 
 
 outside. 
 
 He baffled his pursuers, who followed like the 
 
 wind ; 
 He swam the river Slaney, and left them far 
 
 behind ; 
 But many an English soldier he promised soon 
 
 should fall, 
 For these his gallant comrades who died in wild 
 
 Email. 
 
 THEOBALD WOLFE TONE. 
 
 Brave heart, bold heart, and active brain, 
 
 What hopes and griefs were like to thine. 
 Thou patient worker, whose design 
 Was wrought till promised triumph shone 
 Upon its summit — then again 
 Was dashed to ruin — 
 
 Gallant Tone.
 
 1 11 SONGS AND POEMS. 
 
 I see thy calm pure spirit rise 
 
 Like some pale moon that takes its way 
 Through storms that gathered all the day, 
 Yet looks when clouds apart have blown 
 As high and holy in the skies 
 And briizht as ever — 
 
 Faithful Tone. 
 
 The force of earnest will, allied 
 To fixdd purpose, and a mind 
 Within whose crystal di'pths enshrined 
 The patriot's passion glowed alone, 
 Or fed on all that live.l beside, 
 Made up thy being — 
 
 Fearless Tone. 
 
 Thine was the joy to win the ear 
 
 And strong heart of a mighty land, 
 To see her stretch an armed hand 
 With aid and cheering towards thine own, 
 To see the tyrant pale Avith fear, 
 And Erin hopeful — 
 
 Gallant Tone. 
 
 And thine the nameless grief to see 
 
 The vision fade — the wild night fall. 
 The storm burst fiercely forth, and all 
 Thy life-long labour overthrown. 
 The worst itself no worse could be 
 To thy proud spirit — 
 
 ITnploss Tone.
 
 SONGS AND POEMS. 145 
 
 PERTUEBATIONS. 
 
 A certain planet in the skj, 
 
 Tlie star-seers often had perceived 
 Was much perturbed, they knew not why, 
 
 'Twas their mistake, they first believed. 
 They blamed their glasses, blamed the WMy 
 
 They'd taken doAvn their observations. 
 And alj^ost all agreed to say 
 
 The fault was in their calculations. 
 
 But one, the keen Le Yerrier, thought 
 
 It was a fact, and had a cause 
 That might be found, if calmly sought, 
 
 In nature's grand, eternal laws ; 
 He said the orb inclined and swayed 
 
 To some imknoAvn, but strong attraction ; 
 And, by a cool synthesis, made 
 
 A cause to suit it to a fraction. 
 
 He said, there is — there must have been — 
 
 Another planet circling near ; 
 A planet I have never seen, 
 
 But I'll engage the thing is there. 
 'Tis such a weight, and such a size, 
 
 In such a line, at such a distance, 
 Whoever seeks as I advise. 
 
 Will soon perceive its bright existence. 
 
 10
 
 1 I r, SONfiS AND rOEMS. 
 
 lie wrote to Berlin to a man 
 
 Whoso fame was known the earth around, 
 And showed by logic, map, and plan, 
 
 "Where this new world should then be found. 
 The learned German turned his glass 
 
 Upon the space so ch.'arly given, 
 And soon the orb was seen to pass 
 
 Amid the shining hosts of heaven. 
 
 A curious tale, and true beside ; 
 
 But here, as well as up on high, 
 I think the rule may be applied 
 
 To finding more than meets the eye. 
 There's my friend Ned — I made, one night, 
 
 A few such simple observations, 
 And soon found out the body bright 
 
 That causes all his perturbations. 
 
 There's witty, gay, and pretty John, 
 
 I've also found the hidden force 
 That sways his path, and draws him on 
 
 In such a wild, eccentric course. 
 Poor Dick ! his centripetal strength 
 
 Was never great. One day we missed him, 
 And on Le Verrier's plan, at length, 
 
 I've found him in another system. 
 
 In short I find in every case, 
 
 The Frenchman's reasoning just and triie,
 
 SOXGS AKD rOEMS. 147 
 
 Not only in the fields of space, 
 
 But on our dusty planet too. 
 And when I see a strange effect, 
 
 However long and well I've conned it, 
 I'll always strive to recollect. 
 
 How bright a cause may Lie beyond it. 
 
 A VALENTINE 
 
 There's not a print-shop window in the city 
 Without its stock of " valentines" displayed ; 
 
 All sorts and sizes. Some are rather witty, 
 And others scarcely civil, I'm afraid. 
 
 Each with a verse of some appropriate ditty, 
 To suit the kind or cruel man or maid ; 
 
 And some are frightful — sure such horrid features 
 
 Were never seen on any human creatures. 
 
 First, here's the genus " Swell" — a class of thing 
 I have not found in BufFon or Linnseus. 
 
 The waist of each would fit into a ring ; 
 
 The head of each, perhaps, holds three ideas. 
 
 With pretty lisp each seems to say or sing — 
 " I wonder, demme, do the girls see us ! 
 
 We surely must look stunnin now, good gracious, 
 
 With these cigars stuck deep in our moustachios".
 
 1 18 SONGS AND rOEMS. 
 
 Next comes that perfect beauty, young Miss 
 Skinny, 
 
 Bedizened in the higliest style of art ; 
 Indeed a man would think it quite a sin he 
 
 Should ever spoil her dress against his heart. 
 Dear tender soul, who dotes upon Bellini, 
 
 And boastsno small acquaintance with Mozart — 
 In short, who lives in one perpetual jingle 
 Of "Take this ring", "All's lost", and "Do not 
 " mingle". 
 
 And here are sylvan landscapes — woods and 
 bowers, 
 
 "With pretty nooks wherein to sigh or swear, 
 And breechless Cupids roving through the flowers, 
 
 The rosy urchins seeming not to fear 
 The bitter winds and long-continued showers 
 
 Of this inclement season of the year, 
 But playing oif their pranks and evolutions, 
 Eegardless of their little constitutions. 
 
 Then here are buildings they've contrived so neatly, 
 The doors and windows can be opened wide, 
 
 And at a single glance you see completely 
 Wliatever may be going on inside. 
 
 Perhaps the question has been murmured sweetly, 
 Perhaps the lady's fainted and replied — 
 
 Or it may be, Papa in sobs addressing 
 
 The happy youth, saying "Take her, with my 
 blessing".
 
 SONGS AND POEMS. 149 
 
 Behold a church — the holy knot is tying 
 AVithin its walls as tight as tight can be ; 
 
 And here's a cottage — turtle dov es are flying 
 About the roof and on from tree to tree ; 
 
 The very flowers upon the wall seem trying 
 The precious thmg within the room to see. 
 
 You look, and find (a slight anticipation) 
 
 A pretty, plump young "lord of the creation". 
 
 But none of these will suit me, and I fear 
 My love must do without a valentine ; 
 
 .But stop an instant — yes, go bring me here 
 That box of colours and those sheets of mine ; 
 
 I feel an artist's impulse 1 declare 
 
 I'll execute my own sublime design — 
 
 Oh ! honoured ghosts of all the great Italians, 
 
 Now crowd aroimd me in yoiir bright battalions ! 
 
 Inspire my heart and guide my daring hand, 
 
 Eafiaelle, Buonarotti, Cimabue ! 
 Give me a little of yoiu' old command 
 
 O'er all the lights and shades of every hue. 
 Oh, bear my soul away to Fancy-land — 
 
 But bring it back — be very sure you do, 
 For some one here — nor do I mean to doubt it — 
 Declares, indeed, she could not do Avithout it. 
 
 Dear little maiden, vain is all endeavour 
 
 To paint the love my heart would send to thee.
 
 100 SUNC;S AND I'uESIS. 
 
 I'll only say, that heart is thine for ever, 
 That love is deep as human love can be. 
 
 I'll only tell thee, pen or pcneil never 
 
 Drew form so fair and dear as thine to mc, 
 
 And these fond truths, I know, will please thee 
 better 
 
 Than smart quotations or a pictured letter. 
 
 MY POETESS. 
 
 AVhen I was young and sentimental. 
 
 And my head was, day and night, 
 Filled with fancies transcendental, 
 
 Dazzled witli the Poet's light, 
 Well, said I, VU love for ever, 
 
 But ril never wed, unless 
 I shall meet some very clever. 
 
 Gentle, thoughtful. Poetess. 
 
 In the course of my researches, 
 
 I confess I met a few 
 Boasting of some household virtues. 
 
 Let me see! — some one or two 
 Knew the current price of mutton, 
 
 Some could make a paste or pie, 
 Others sew a loosened button — 
 
 Not the thing for me, said I.
 
 SONGS AND POEMS. 151 
 
 Yet I never minded sobbing, 
 
 For, like Lamartino, I knew 
 That a heart was somewhere throbbing 
 
 To my own Avith pulses true ; 
 Bnt the thing was how to get it, 
 
 Long I thought, but could not guess, 
 And I own I somewhat fretted 
 
 For my gentle Poetess. 
 
 But I found her ; oli, I found her ! 
 
 'Tis no matter where or how, 
 Such a brightness all around her ! 
 
 Such a light upon her brow ! 
 Ask not sate she at a window 
 
 With a sampler or a book, 
 Did I take her for BeUnda, 
 
 Or the ghost of Lalla Rookh. 
 
 Ask not did I woo her kneeling, 
 
 Did I rather choose to stand — 
 Did I pour a flood of feeling 
 
 In the style of IMadame Sand ; 
 Heed not had she much of Norah 
 
 Creina in her sUken dress, 
 Or the visage of Medora ; 
 
 But I found my Poetess. 
 
 Ah ! the vulgar Avay of doing 
 
 Such a work as ours that night —
 
 l.^'i SOKCiS AND lOEJIS. 
 
 Uh, till' juy, the bliss of wooing 
 
 At u tnie poetic height! 
 Bri;:lit ideas interchanging, 
 
 ^N inj^dd fancies flitting by, 
 Glorious thoughts for ever ranging 
 
 From our jilauet to the sky ! 
 
 Thrillings, tlirobbings, STS'eet sensations, 
 
 Airy strains divinely mixed — 
 Halos, flashes, scintillations, 
 
 Suns and systems, loose and fixed. 
 Floated round us, seemed to pass us, 
 
 Oh, the nameless happiness 
 Of making love on Mount Parnassus 
 
 To a gentle Poetess ! 
 
 Yet at times through all my pleasure 
 
 Ean a vague mysterious fear, 
 Lest the Gods should see my treasure. 
 
 Lest some spirit hovering near 
 "With more than liuman passion burning, 
 
 Should take her off, his home to bless. 
 And leave me musically mourning 
 
 For my gentle Poetess. 
 
 But they well declined committing 
 Such a grievous piece of wrong. 
 
 And I won her in befitting 
 Snatches of extatic song.
 
 SONGS AND POEMS. 153 
 
 Those who doubt or question whether 
 
 I was wise, or acted well, 
 Let them come along together 
 
 To tlie cottage wliere we dwell. 
 
 Enter here — no power refuses 
 
 Though he come from halls above ; 
 'Tis the temple of the Muses 
 
 And the sweet abode of Love. 
 Never heed the small confusion, 
 
 Who could well expect it less, 
 In the dignified seclusion 
 
 Of a gifted Poetess ? 
 
 Playing with the fender irons, 
 
 Scratching at each other's eyes, 
 See the httle Moores and Byrons, 
 
 Hear their laughter and their cries ! 
 See them cut their little capers 
 
 Till they get some rapid smacks, 
 For disturbing all the papers, 
 
 On their faces, or their backs. 
 
 Hear Letitia Hemans Browning 
 
 Loudly squalling to be fed, 
 See young Scott take hke a drowning 
 
 Hold of cross Childe Harold's head. 
 You can't see our little Dryden, 
 
 Being gone to sleep, I guess,
 
 154 SONGS AND POEMS. 
 
 He's tlie one I ought to pride in, 
 Suys my gentle Poetess. 
 
 Shelly is to get a powder, 
 
 lie's not well, I grieve to say, 
 And his cries, though there are louder, 
 
 Pierce me in a dreadful n-ay. 
 Little Pope, I fear, will never 
 
 Very tall or healthy be, 
 Meeting accidents for ever, 
 
 Most unfortunate is he. 
 
 Then of course we've nymphs attendant, 
 
 Luna seeks in spite of fate 
 To keep the fender quite resplendant. 
 
 And raise a polish on the grate. 
 There you see our blooming Ileb^, 
 
 Unto whose especial care 
 We confide our precious baby, 
 
 Paying two pounds ten a year. 
 
 Then there's ^lercury, her first cousin. 
 
 And Egcria, of the springs, 
 "Who does our washing by the dozen, 
 
 And never counts the baby things. 
 There are also other graces, 
 
 I must say a loving three. 
 But they've advertised for " places", 
 
 And they'll soon be leaving me.
 
 I 
 
 SONGS AND POEMS. 155 
 
 Well, howe'er the world may view it, 
 
 Call it trouble, tumult, noise, 
 I am quite accustomed to it, 
 
 And I love my girls and boys. 
 Should a youth to-day come seeking 
 
 Hints from me on happiness, 
 I should tell him, plainly speaking, 
 
 Win a gentle Poetess.
 
 NOTES TO DUNBOY. 
 
 Note 1, Page 5. 
 "Shoots of the grand old Sjianish vine"'. 
 
 In a letter of Donal O'Sullivan to the King of Spain, 
 which is printed in tlie Pacata Hibernia (an autlientic 
 account of the wars of Queen Elizabeth in Ireland, com- 
 piled by Sir George Carew, Lord President of Munster, 
 afterwards Earl of Totness, who was one of the cliief 
 •actors in those wars), the following passage occurs : — 
 
 " We the meere Irish long sithence deriving our roote 
 and originall from the famous and most noble race 
 of the Spaniards: viz., from Milecius, sonne to Bile, 
 Sonne to Breogwin, and from Lwighe, sonne to Lythy, 
 Sonne to Breogwin, by the testimony of our old ancient 
 bookes of antiquities, our Petigrees, our Histories, and 
 our Cronicles. Though there were no other matter, wee 
 came not as naturall branches of the famous tree, whereof 
 we grew, but beare a hearty loue, and naturall afiection, 
 and intire inclination of our hearts and minds to our 
 ancient most loving kingsfolkes, and the most noble race 
 whereof we descended". 
 
 This Breogwin, grandfather to Milesius, was one of the 
 Kings of Spain. About 1,000 years before the Christian 
 era the three sons of Milesius led an expedition into Ire- 
 land. The names of the three brothers were Heber, 
 Heremon, and Ir. They divided the country between 
 them. Heremon had Leinster and Connaught ; Ir had 
 Ulster; Heber had Munster. In the second century of 
 the Christian era, Eogan More, King of Munster, one of 
 the descendants of the Heber above mentioned, Avas 
 married to the Spanish Princess Beara, daughter to 
 Heber, King of Castile. By this marriage Eogan More 
 had a son, UilioU Olum, who became King of Munster. 
 Oilioll had three sons— Eogan, Coruiac Cas, and Kian.
 
 158 NiJTLS TO DUNUOY. 
 
 From Kiiin were iUsocmkIccI tlie clan Kinn ; from Cormac 
 Cas, the Dalcassians ; iVoiii Ko^'aii, the Eu^'eiiiaiiK. The 
 O'SuUivims are of tlic Eugeniaa Une, and took their 
 name from Snileabhan, one of their chief?, in the tenth 
 century. — Fruin the notes to Coiinellun's Edition oj the 
 Four Masters. 
 
 Note 2, Pa(/e 10. 
 
 " And cheered with like rewiirds their work 
 Wlio ttglit the Saxon and tlie Turk". 
 
 Pope Gregory XIII. (\.v. 1580) granted to all who 
 should fight against the English in Ireland an indul^ience, 
 of which he said — "This i.-s the same indulgence as that 
 which was imparted to those wlio fought against the 
 Turks for the recovery of tlie Holy Land". Some years 
 subsequently (AD. lUUO) Poj)e Clement Vill. sent .'■indlar 
 indulgences to Ireland, and sent a present of a plume of 
 phoenix feathers to Hugh O'Neill, the leader of the 
 patriot forces. Judging from the religious and rever- 
 ential character of Donal O'SuUivan, as revealed in his 
 letters, those facts must have powerfully influenced him 
 in his opposition to the English power in Ireland. 
 
 - Note 3, Paye 10. 
 
 " What thouch in I^ondoii's ploomy tower 
 Dcsiuoud aud brave ilucC'artliy pine". 
 
 " The Catholic cause suffered considerably at this time 
 by the arrest of James, son of Thomas Fitzgerald, com- 
 monly called Earl of Desmond, and Florence -MacCarthy, 
 of the illustrious houscof Mac Cartliy Kiagh, who had mar- 
 ried the daughter and heiress of .Mac Carlhy More, Baron 
 of Valentia, and Earl of Clancar". — Mucdaoyheyun's His- 
 tory of Jrphaid. The Parata contains a curious history 
 of the " Juggling" of this FloriTice ilacCartliy. He cer- 
 tainly appears to have played fast and loose with both 
 parties, but the cause to which he was really attached 
 was that of his country; and of all men Carew ought to 
 be the last to compla.n indignantly of a httle "juggling". 
 
 For a full account of the above-mentioned and tli« 
 other Earls of Desmond, see the History of the GcraN
 
 NOTES TO DUNBOY. 159 
 
 dines, by Brother Dominicus O'Daly, a translation of 
 which, by the Eev. C. P. Meehan, has been pubUshed by 
 James Duffy. 
 
 Note 4, Page 10. 
 
 " We spurn her peace, we cast away 
 Her patent for our fathers" lands". 
 
 " In the twelfth year of the reign of Queen Elizabeth, 
 Sir Owen O'Sullivan, in order to establish a substantial 
 title to the countries he then held, surrendered them to 
 the Queen, and received a formal grant thereof by patent. 
 This measure gave rise to a long suit at law between Sir 
 Owen and his nephew Donal McDonal O'Sullivan, the 
 latter of whom endeavom-ed to prove that his uncle had 
 usurped the possession at the death of his (Donal's) 
 father. The suit terminated by a letter of partition, 
 •dated January, 1593, under the Great Seal, being issued 
 to plot out the lands and castles of Bere, Bantry, Ardea, 
 and others belonging to the O'Sullivans. The castles 
 and dependencies of Bere were alotted to Donal, and 
 Bantry, etc., to Sir Ovren". — WMs KUlarney. 
 
 Note 5, Page 19. 
 
 " Swnid and spear 
 They stuck into the ground upright, 
 And blest with many a form and prayer". 
 
 That this manner of blessing their arms was a custom 
 of the Irish in those and in earlier days, is stated by one 
 of the Anglo- Irish chroniclers. 
 
 Note 6, Page 24. 
 
 "First of the ranks still firm and true 
 Were Donal's, Beara's gallant few". 
 
 O'Sullivan's little force was amongst those who made 
 the most determined tight on the disastrous day of Kin- 
 sale, and when the battle was lost, it bravely protected 
 some of the retreating troops of the northern chiei'tains, 
 who but for such protection would have suffered more 
 severely than they did.
 
 1 »|0 NOTES TO DUNIMJV. 
 
 Note. 7, J\ii/e 2i. 
 
 " 'Twaa long fun-told, tlic wine men say". 
 
 Carew, in the Pacutn Iliberma, having given an ac- 
 count of tlie defeat of the Irisli and Spaniards at Kinsalc, 
 says: — '• Alth(iut,di no man is Icsse credulous tlian niy- 
 selfe is of idle prophesies, the most whereof are coyned 
 after things are done, yet I make bold to relate this whicli 
 succeeds, for long time before the thing I speake of waa 
 brougiit to light : myselfe was an eye-witnesse wlien it 
 was reported ; in concealing it 1 sjiould wrong tlie trueth, 
 wliich makes niee bold to remember it. Many times 1 
 did hcare the Earle of Tliomond tell the Lord President 
 that in an old booke of Irish prophesies which hee had 
 scene, it was reported that towards the latter dayes there 
 should bee a battell fougiit betweene tiie English and the 
 Irisii in a place which the booke nameth, iieere unto 
 Kinsale. 'ihe Earle of 'Ihomoiid comming out of Eng- 
 land, and landing first at Castlehaven, and alter at Kin- 
 sale, as aforesaid : in the time of the siege myselfe and 
 divers others heard him again report the prophesie to 
 the President, and named the place where (according to 
 the prophesie) the field should bee fought. The day 
 whereupon the victorie was obtained, the i^ord President 
 and the Earle rode out to see the dead bodies of the van- 
 quished, and the President asked some that were there 
 present by what name that ground was called ; they not 
 knowing to what end hee did demand it, told him the 
 true name thereof, whicli was the same which the Earle 
 so often before had reported to the President. 1 beseech 
 the reader to belieue nice, for 1 deliver nothing but trueth : 
 but as one swallow makes no summer, so shall not this 
 one true proiihesie increase my credulitie iu old predic- 
 tions of tliat kinde". 
 
 Note 8, Page 32. 
 
 "No plot is spurned, no bribe is spared, 
 No dark device of traitor art". 
 
 Carew, as we learn from his own account of himself, 
 was a consummate rogue. In his work, the /'aatta llibcr- 
 nia, he lias given us n:any specimens of his subtlety and 
 dishonesty. When he had arrived at Jiantry, on his
 
 NOTES TO DUNL'OV. 161 
 
 way to besiege Dunboy, he wrote a letter to the Spanish 
 gunners v>lio remained with O'Suliivan, informing tliein 
 that if, when tlie English forces were in front of the 
 cattle, they would leave it and come to his camp, he 
 would have them passed safely into Spain. '' This above 
 written", said he, " I am obUged by my promise to Don 
 Juan to fultil. But if you haue a desire to finde or reciue 
 further favours at my hands, you may with facilitie 
 deserue it, that is, when you leaue the castle to cloy the 
 Ordnance, or niayme their Carriages, that when they 
 shall haue need of them they may prooue uselesse, for 
 the which I will forthwith liberally recompense you 
 answerable to the qualitie of your merit". The Spaniards 
 despised the traitorous proposition, and fought their 
 guns to the last. Again it is clear from the terms in 
 which the affair is spoken of in the Pacata, and from 
 the character of Carew, that in the interview held a few 
 days previous to the siege with Kichard MacGeohegan 
 'on'Bere Island, an endeavour was made to seduce that 
 brave and faithful chieftain from tlie service of U'SuUivan. 
 But in this case, as in that of the Spaniards, the effort 
 proved of no avail. After the capitulation at Kinsale, 
 while Don Juan, who had commanded the Spanish 
 forces there, was on the most friendly terms with 
 him, Carew exercised his talents by practising on the 
 Spaniard a gross deception and vioLition of faith. A 
 messenger having arrived from Spain with some let- 
 ters from the lung and others, and " the Lord Deputies 
 (Mountjoy's) heart itching to have the letters in his 
 hands, he prayed the President (Carew) to intercept 
 them if he could handsomely doe it". Carew readily 
 undertook the job. He got the messenger wajlaid and 
 robbed ; he took the letters at once to the Deputy, and 
 when both had read them, returned to dine with his 
 guest Don Juan ! When the messenger, who had been 
 robbed, arrived and told his tale, the Don complained 
 bitterly to the Lord Deputy, but that worthy personage 
 " seemed no less sorry ; but (said he) it is a common 
 thing in all armies to haue debauclit souldiers, but hee 
 thought it to bee rather done by some of the country 
 thieues ; but if the fact was committed by souldiers, it 
 was most like to bee done by some Irish men". The 
 Don however strongly suspected Carew, and said so, but
 
 1 02 NOTES TO DUNnOY. 
 
 the Deputy (Icclnml him iiinoc-cnt. In the end tlie pair 
 of ropues offered a laru'i' reward for the discovery of tlio 
 robber! The means emiil.ived by (^arew tor tiie capture 
 of the Earl of Desmond were in perfect kecpinj: witli llie 
 fore,<;oitij,'. And on such trausiiclions as these Sir George 
 prided himself very highly. 
 
 Note 0, Pa(/e 40. 
 
 " I liave lost 
 Ancestral lands and caitlcs fair". 
 The MacOeoshcgans had hifjh rank and largo pos- 
 sessions in the County of Meath, all which they lost in 
 the long succession of wars which desolated that part 
 of the country. 
 
 Note 10, Par/e 4G. 
 
 " Owen MacKpiiiin, blest of God, 
 And faithful friar Neale". 
 
 On the f^th of June, the day on which the English 
 armv disembarked on the mainland, the defenders of 
 Duiiboy received intelligence that on the previous night 
 a Spani-h ship with succours for them had arrived at 
 Ardea, in the bay of Kenmare. " ISomc Irish passengers 
 was in her (says the Piniiin), namely, a fryar lames 
 Nelane, a 1 liomond man belonging to Sir i'irlogb U'Jiricn, 
 who had charge of the treasure; Owen AlacKggan, the 
 Tope's IJisliop of Jlusse, and his Vkdiins A/ios/olicus, 
 with letters to sundry rebels and twelve tliousand 
 pounds. . . The distribution of the money by appoint- 
 ment in Spaine was left princii)ally to the disposition 
 of Donnell D'Sulevan Heare, Owen MacKggan, lames 
 Archer, and some otliers". This same Bishop MacEggan 
 was subsequently killed near Bandon, fighting gallantly 
 with his sword in one hand and Ins beads in the other. 
 His remains were buried in the abbey of Titnoleague. 
 
 Note 1 1 , Puffc 53. 
 
 " One hundred men and forty-four 
 In those nunow halls, not a nioital more; 
 l-'our thousand foemen round them". 
 
 Carew says the army with which he set out from Cork
 
 r 
 
 NOTES TO DUNBOY. 1 63 
 
 for Dunboy " was in list neere three thousand, but by 
 pole not exceeding fifteene hundred". This force Avas 
 however recruited on its march, in accordance with his 
 (Carew's) directions to "draw all the forces in the province 
 to a head against them" (O'Sullivan and his friends). Near 
 Bantry the ara)y was joined by the regiment of Sir 
 Charles Wiimot, who had been prosecuting the war in 
 Kerry. Wiimot's force was "one thousand and seven 
 hundred foote in list, but by pole very weak". It is 
 therefore probable that the besieging force amounted in 
 round numbers to about 4,000, which is the number given 
 by Mitchel in his life of Hugh O'Neill. The num- 
 ber of defenders Mithin the castle is set down by the 
 Pacdta Hibernia as 143. Another account says 144, 
 which does not greatly alter the proportion or dispropor- 
 tion between the forces. 
 
 Note 12, page 55. 
 
 "Their guns from yonder rounded strand, 
 Their hattery from the niduntain slope". 
 
 Two guns were placed on a point of land on the north 
 side of that on which the castle stood ; four guns were 
 l^laced on a height to the west of the castle, and it was 
 this latter battery that beat it into ruins. From the 
 moment those guns were i^lanted the fall of the castle 
 was a matter of certainty. Most of the castles in Ire- 
 land, at that time, had been built to resist small arms 
 only ; when attacked with cannon, they wei'e easily 
 destroyed. 
 
 Note 13, Page 61. 
 
 " But I hope that my name 
 In our annals of fame 
 
 Will he set in a small piece of writing"'. 
 
 This was not an unusual wish amongst Irish warriors; 
 and in the Pacata Hibernia, amongst other documents 
 connected with the defenders of Dunboy, is given a letter 
 written the night before his execution by one John Anias 
 to the Baron of Lixnaw, in which is the following pas- 
 sage : — 
 
 "As ever I aspire to immortalize my name upon the
 
 1 <i 1 NOTES TO DUNDOY. 
 
 Eartli, so I would request you, by virtue of tlmt ardent 
 affection I liiul toward you in my life, you would lioiiour 
 my deatii in malting mention of my name in the register 
 of your country". 
 
 This John Anias was one "who concieved himself to 
 be a good Ingeniere", as also, it Wduld apjicar, did " lames 
 Archer, lesuit" ; letters from hoth of wliom, referring to 
 tiie furtilication of Dunboy, are given in tiie I'ucnUi. 
 
 Note U, Page 73. 
 " Ho, JIarshall, bear liim to the block .'" 
 
 " Vpon the fall thereof the enemy sent out a messenger 
 offering to surrender the place, if they might haue their 
 lives and depart with their amies, and a pledge given for 
 the assurance thereof. Neverthelesse they continued 
 shooting all the while the messenger was coming be- 
 tweine them and us, whose message being delivered, the 
 Lord President turned him over to the Marsiiall, by 
 ■whose direction hee was executed" — /'ar. J/i/>. 
 
 Tlie bloodthirsty ferocity of this Carcw and his army 
 was unrestrained by any feeling of honour or humanity. 
 The messenger from the castle should have been sent 
 back when his terms were rejected, but rarely could 
 Carew have an enemy in his power and not kill him. 
 This will ai)pear to any one who reads even his own ac- 
 count of liis proceedings. 
 
 Note 13, Faffe 77. 
 " Bold O'JIoie was seen to labour", etc. 
 Mellaghlan Moore, who was one of three soldiers who 
 leaped from off a vault of the castle and was immtdiately 
 slain, was, Siiys Carew, " the man that layed hands first 
 upon tiie Earle of Ormoud, and plucked him from his 
 horse, when he was taken prisoner by Owliny Miic 
 lioury". 
 
 Note 16, Page 84. 
 
 " Firm in my liand tlie ti usty lance 
 Grasped for the lioly League of Trance". 
 
 "A Fryer, borne in Yoghall, called Dominicke Collins, 
 who had been brought up in tiie Warres of Fraunce, and 
 there under the League had been a Commander of Horse 
 in Britanny" — J'ac. J/i/i.
 
 NOTES TO DUNBOY. 1G5 
 
 Note 17, Page 93. 
 
 " Friends and fnes at once shall I 
 Hurl in one blast tow'ids the sky". 
 
 " Then MacGeohagan, cliiefe commander of the place, 
 being mortally womided with divers shntt in his body, 
 the rest made choise of one Thomas Taylor, an English 
 mans Sonne (the dearest and inwardest man with Tirrell, 
 and married to his Neece), to be their chiefe, who having 
 nine barrels of powder, drew himselfe and it into the 
 "Vault, and there sate downe by it, with a light match in 
 his hand, vowing and protesting to set it on fire, and 
 blow up the Castle, himselfe, and all the rest, except they 
 might haue promise of Ufe"— Pac. Eib. 
 
 Note 18-, Page 96. 
 
 " That eve within the Saxon's camp 
 
 The headsman's strokes continued long, 
 ■With a steady champ, like a measured tramp, 
 For the clansmen's bones were stout and strong". 
 
 " The same day fiftie-eight were executed in the Mar- 
 ket-place, but the Fryar, Taylor, and one Tirlagh Eoe 
 MacSwiney, a follower unto Sir Tirlagh O'Brian, and 
 twelue more of Tirrells chiefe men, the Lord President 
 reserved aUue to trie whether he could draw them to doe 
 some more acceptable service than their lives were worth. 
 The whole number of the ward consisted of one hundred 
 and fortie-three selected fighting men, being the best 
 choice of all their Forces, of the which no one man 
 escaped, but were either slaine, executed, or buried in 
 the mines, and so obstinate and resolved a defence had 
 not bin scene within this Kingdome" — Pac. Hlb. 
 
 Tirrell endeavoiu-ed to negociate with Carew to spare 
 the lives of his twelve men. "Answer was returned to him, 
 and a stratagem propounded, in the effecting thereof he 
 should obtain pardon and libertie for himself and his 
 dependants". What piece of villainy this " stratagem" 
 •was, Carew does not inform us ; but " the reply which he 
 made theremito was, that he would ransome the Prisoners 
 with money, if that might be accepted ; but to be false to 
 the King of Spaine (whom hee termed his master), or to 
 betray the Catholicke cause, liee would never ; upon 
 which answer his twelve men (before respited) two dayes 
 after were executed". Taylor was carried on to Cork,
 
 1 GO N(JTES TO DUNnOY. 
 
 whore he was hangc>l in chains, and Father Collins, who 
 woulil not '" (.iideavour to nicrite his life by discovering 
 the Uehel's intentions (wliich was in his power;, or by 
 doing of some service that might deserve favour, was 
 hanged at Vougliali, the Towne wlicre he was borne". 
 
 Xolc — *, pdt/e 90. 
 
 "nrotliiTs tlicir brotlii-rs' blood betray, 
 And clan on dun workx ruin, while 
 The common foe wins ull the isle". 
 
 A glance into the history of those times will but too 
 fully hv:iT out the statement in the lines above quoted. 
 Ill aii3' country circumstances similar to those in which 
 Ireland was then placed would produce like results. Hut, 
 however this may be, the English policy of "divide and 
 conquer" worked its way amongst the O'Sullivans as 
 well as amongst other native families. 
 
 \Vhen Donal took up arms for his religion and country, 
 Owen, son to Sir Owen (mentioned in note 4), was led to 
 think that In' reniainiiig attached to the Knglish govern- 
 ment, and by aiding the expedition of Carew ag.dnst 
 Duiiboy, he would get the partition which had been 
 made in his father's time (juashed, and the land <>f lieare 
 granted to him. More than twelve months before the 
 English army proceeded to the siege of Dunboy, the Lord 
 President of Munster, Sir George Carew, despatclnd the 
 Earl of Tliomond with a force of " 2,o00 foote in list, to 
 make tryall whether the rebels in the countrey of ^'arbery 
 would submit themselves upon the sight of an army". 
 Amongst the instructions given to the Earl on this occa- 
 sion were the following : — 
 
 " The service you are to pcrforme is to do all your 
 endeavour to buriie the rebels Come in Carbery, Beare, 
 and Banti-y, take their cowes, and to use all hostile i>ro- 
 sccution upon the persons of the people, as in such eases 
 of rebellion is accustomed. 
 
 " When you are in Beare (if you may without any ap- 
 parent perill) your lordship shall doe well to take a view 
 of the castle of Dunboy, whereby wee may be the better 
 instructed how to proceed fer the taking of it, when time 
 convei'icnt shall be atfurded. 
 
 " Uy n mistake, no refere.ce Pgiire wus put to those li:;es In the 
 te-it.
 
 NOTES TO DUNBOY, 1G7 
 
 "Glue all the comfort you may to 0\ren O'Sulevan, 
 by whose means you know the affaires of those parts will 
 best be composed". 
 
 Thomond proceeded to Bantry as directed, burned the 
 rebels' corn in famous fasliion, gave much wordy comfort 
 to Owen O'Sullivan, but decided that tliere was " appa- 
 rent perill" in atteniptinfj to get near Dunboy, inasmuch 
 as Donal with a strong force stood in his way at Glea- 
 garitfe. He contented iiimself witli strengthening tlie 
 garrison of Captain Flower at Bantry, and placing an- 
 other garrison on Whiddy Island; he then returned to 
 Carew witli his report of the state of " affairs in those 
 parts". Very soon after his departure Donal expelled his 
 garrison from Whiddy Island. Owen O'Sullivan assisted 
 in the reduction of Donal's forts on the Dursey Island, 
 which was accomplished during the early days of the 
 siege of Dunboy. It is no wonder he was a wilUng 
 leader in that expedition, as his wife was then, and had 
 for three months previously been, a prisoner in one of 
 the forts. The Piicata does not say that Owen assisted 
 at the siege of Dunboy itself. lie captured, however, for 
 the English the castle'of Dunmanus, " and tooke the prey 
 and spoyle of the tow no". The writer has not learned 
 what was his reward in the end. Most probably it was 
 to have " prey and spoyle" taken from himself, to fail 
 of getting his cousin Donal's possessions, and to lose 
 his own. 
 
 Note 19, Page 100. 
 
 "And many a stafelj- keep aiifl dun 
 Back from their Irish allies won". 
 
 " The fall of Dunboy did not prevent the Prince of 
 Beare from still acting a brave and noble part. Dermod 
 O'DriscoU being returned from Spain, Cornelius, son of 
 O'DriscoU More, was sent to solicit speedy assistance ; in 
 the meantime the Prince and Captain Tirrell marched 
 ■with a thousand men into Muskerry, and made them- 
 selves masters of Carriag-na-Chori, Duin Dearaire, and 
 Mocrumpe, where they placed a garrison, after which 
 he prevailed upon O'Donoghue of the Glinne to join the 
 confederacy; he made incursions into the districts of
 
 1 Ctfi NOTKS TO nuNnov, 
 
 Cork, nnd returned loaded wiili hmtiy" ,— MucGeoghc 
 pan's History of Ireland, vol. III. ciip. xiv. 
 
 Note 20, Page 101. 
 
 "Troops \inlteiit Iiy foreign nWI, 
 Would famish in the wnstcd lund". 
 
 The desolation of Munstor, and of other parts of Ire- 
 land, at this time was fri-^'htful. Ilolinshed, Spenser, 
 Davies, and others, fjive tL-rrible pictures of it. The 
 former says, " The whole country having no cattle nor 
 kine left, they (the Iri.-ih) were driven to such extremi- 
 ties that, for want of victuals, they were either to die and 
 perisii by famine, or to die under the sword". And again, 
 having sjjoken of the great numbers slain, he says : 
 " After this followed an extreme famine, and such whom 
 the sword did not destroy, the same did consume and eat 
 out, for they were not only driven to eat horses, dogs, 
 and dead carrions, but they also did devour the carcasses 
 of dead men. . . . The land itself, which before these 
 wars was populous, well-inhabited, and rich in all the 
 good blessings of God, ... is now become waste and 
 barren, yielding no fruits, the pastures no cattle, the air 
 no birds . . . Whosoever did travel from the one end to 
 the other of all Munstor . . he would not meet with any 
 man, woman, or child, saving in towns and cities, nor yet 
 see any beast, but the very wolves, the foxes, and other 
 ravening beasts, and many of them lay dead, being fa- 
 mished, and the residue gone elsewhere". Spenser says: 
 "Out of every corner of the woods and glynns they (the 
 Irish) came creeping forth upon their hands, for their 
 legs could not bear them ; they looked like anatomies of 
 death ; they sp:ike like ghosts crying out of their graves ; 
 they did eat the dead carrions, happy when they could 
 fmd them — yea, and one another soon after, insomuch as 
 the very carcasses they spared nnt to scrape out of their 
 graves, and if they found a i)lot of watercrosses or sham- 
 rocks, there they Hocked as to a feast for the time, j'e 
 not long able to continue there withal, that in a short 
 space tliere were none almost left, and a most populous 
 and plentiful country suddenly left void of man and 
 beast".
 
 NOTES TO DUNBOY. 1G9 
 
 Note 21, Page 102. 
 
 "He robbed the eaglets of their food 
 To feed the young O'SuUivans". 
 
 This is a well-preserved tradition in Beare and Bantry. 
 
 Note 22, Page 105. 
 "They fought by day, they fought at night". 
 In giving an account of the flight of O'Sullivan into 
 Ulster, tlie Four Masters say: "He was not a day or 
 night during that space without encountering desperate 
 conflicts and severe pursuits, which were valiantly and 
 promptly resisted by him". A detailed account of the 
 flight is given in the annals, and iu the Historice Catho- 
 licce Ibeniue Compendium of Don riiilip O'Sullivan Beare. 
 The Abbe MacGeoghegan, in his History of Ireland, 
 says^ : " We read nothing more like to the expedition of 
 Young Cyrus and the Ten Thousand Greeks, than this 
 retreat of O'Sullivan Beare". 
 
 Note 23, Page 108. 
 " Turned from the bloody field, and fled". 
 
 " Neverthelesse, when they saw that they must make 
 Iheir way by the sword or perish, they gave a braue 
 charge upon our men, in the which Captain Malby was 
 Blaine, upon Avhose fall Sir Thomas and his troops, faint- 
 ing, with the losse of many men, studied their safeties by 
 flight, and the rebels, with httle harme, marched into 
 Orwyke countrey" — Pac. Ilib. 
 
 " O'SuUivan made an onset, with rage and anger, with 
 fury and vehemence, towards the place where the English 
 were, for against them was excited his entire vengeance 
 and animosity, and he did not stop until he gained the 
 place where he beheld their commander, and he fiercely 
 and quickly cut off" the head of the noble Englishman, 
 namely, the son of Captain Malby ; that collected force 
 was afterwards defeated, and a great number of them 
 were slain, and it is doubtful if the like number of a 
 force, fatigued after a long march, and encompassed by 
 their enemies as they were, performed such an exploit as 
 they achieved that day in defence of their lives and re- 
 nown" — Anitals of the Foir Masters. 
 
 11
 
 170 NOTES TO DUNDOY 
 
 Note2i,Paffc 110. 
 "In Spain, high iil.icc'l beside the king". 
 
 " O'Neill, 0'I)onncll,0'Sullivan Beare, and some other 
 Irish chiefB went the next summer to England to make 
 their submission to James I , who had just sueceeded 
 Klizaheth, and to compliment him upon his iiccession to 
 tile throne of Hngland. U'SuUivan being unable to ob- 
 tain his pardon, sailed for Sp;iin, and was well received 
 by King riiilip III., who created him knight of the mili- 
 tary order of St. lago, and afterwards Earl of Bere- 
 haven" — J/(/c (jcoyhi'juns l/ixton/. 
 
 O'SuUivan received from the King of Spain a pension 
 of 300 pieces of gold monthly. The manner of his death 
 is thus told by his cousin Philip, in his Catholic His- 
 tory :— 
 
 " But the last stroke of adverse fortune befell thus : — 
 On the eighteenth day of the same month (July, 1008), 
 O'SuUivan, Trince of lieare, in whom all the hopes of )the 
 Irish at that time were placed. uniiai)pily perished in this 
 manner. John Bath, an Anglo-Irishman, and one whom 
 O'SuUivan held in very high esteem— even to the extent 
 of taking him under his i)ers()aal protection, Ijestowing 
 many favours upon him, and even admitting him to his 
 own table in the circle of his most intimate friends — quite 
 ungrateful for such high favours, carried his presump- 
 tion so far as that when a discussion aro.se touching some 
 money advanced by OSuUivan as a loan, he, Bath, dared 
 to make unfavourable comparisons between a family, 
 one of the most illustrious among the Irish, and tho 
 English, from whom he liimself was sprung. Thilip, the 
 writer of this history, a cousin of O'SuUivan {l'/nli/>pus, 
 O'Sullivani patrut/is), unable to endure this insult, ex- 
 postulated with Batii ujton the matter. The dispute 
 proceeded so far that they attacked each other with 
 drawn swords, at a royal monastery, not far from Ma- 
 drid. In this contest, Bath, terror-stricken, kept re- 
 treating, shouting at the same time. I'hilip wounded 
 him in the face, and, as it appears, would have slain him, 
 had not Edmund O'Moorc and Gerald Mc.Morris (sent 
 by O'SuUivan), and two Spanish knights, protected liim, 
 and rhilip would have been himself arrested by aeon- 
 stable, but for their interference. When many were
 
 NOTES TO DUNBOY. 171 
 
 attracted to the spot by the quarrel, among others came 
 O'SuHivan, a rosary in his left hand. Whilst thus incau- 
 tious, fearing nothing, and looking in quite another 
 direction, Bath approached him through the crowd, 
 struck hiin through the left shoulder, and again piercing 
 him through the throat, killed him. Philip hid himself 
 in the house of the French ambassador, M;irquis Se- 
 iieccia from the constable, who vainly sought hi n. Rath 
 was cast into prison, together with a relation of his, 
 Francis Bath, who chanced to be present at the struggle. 
 A relation to Pliilip, called O'DriscoU, was also impri- 
 soned. O'Sullivan's interment, on the next day, was 
 attended by a large concourse of Spanish nobles. He 
 was fifty-seven years old at his death. He was an ex- 
 tremely pious, and a benevolent man to poor and needy, 
 He was accustomed to hear two or three masses each 
 day, and to spend a considerable time in prayer to God. 
 He was tall and well built, with pleasing features". 
 
 In our modern Irish literature, Philip O'SuHivan, 
 author of the Catholic History, has often been described 
 as the son of Doual, the hero of Dunboy. Such descrip- 
 tion is incorrect. The father of Philip was Uerraot 
 O'SuHivan (a first cousin of Donal). The fact is repeat- 
 edly stated by Philip in his work, and a full account of 
 his family is given by him in one of his poems, which is 
 prefixed to the Dublin edition of the CathoUc History. 
 
 THE ENO. 
 
 J. F. Fowler, Frinter, 3 Crow Street, Dame Street, Dubliri.
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
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