r THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES / / / M^ 'A A .V ^- 9^ By the same Author. I. THE SEARCH AFTP:R PROSERPINE, and Other Poems. 12rao 5.<'. Thomas Richardson, Derby and London. 11. POEMS (MISCELLANEOUS AND SA- CRED). Fcap. 8vo 4s. 6(7. Bdrns and Lambert, London. III. MAY CAROLS 2s. 6d. Thomas Richardson, Derby and London. IV. ENGLISH MISRULE AND IRISH MIS- DEEDS 2s. 6d. MacGlashan and Gill, Dublin. V. PICTURESQUE SKETCHES OF GREECE AND TURKEY. 2 vols. . . 105. 6d. Richard Bentley, London. TO THE VERY REVEREND Clje llcttor AND THE OTHER MEMBERS OP f I]c Callrolic 'ilniljcrsitii of |rtl;uiij THIS VOLUME IS UEDICATF.D. 807511 CONTENTS. Preface, PASK xiii PART I. PROLOGUE. The Three Woes, The Warning, The Past Glories, The House Norman The Malison, The Legends ; a Bard Song, Hymn, on tlie Founding of the Abbey of St Thomas the Martyr (A Becket) in Dublin A.D. 1177. The Legends ; a Bard Song, The Faithful Norman, .... Song The Legends ; a Bard Song, The Bard Ethell. Thirteenth Century, St. Patrick and the Bard ; a Bard Song, A Bard Song, ..... King Lacghaire and St. Patrick, . St. Patrick and the Knight ; or, the Inauguration of Irish Chivalry, ..... The Bier that Conquered ; or, O'Donnell's An swer, 3 4 5 7 10 12 13 15 17 18 20 21 3G 42 44 48 49 Vlll CONTENTS. I'AGE, Peccatum Peccavit, .53 The Days of Outlawry, 34 The Dirge of Athunree, 37 Lament for Edward Bruce, 60 Spes Unica, G2 Ode, 63 The Wedding of the Clans; a Girl's Babble, . 65 The Statute of Kilkenny, C8 The King ; a Bard Song, 70 Queen Margaret's Feasting, .... 72 The Ballad of " Bonny Portmore;" or, the Night Surprise, ....... 75 Peace, 78 The Irish Norman ; or, Lament for the Baron of Loughmoe, ....... 73 The Ballad of Turgesius, the Dane; or, the Girl Deliverer, 82 Epilogue 88 PART II. PROLOGUE. Plorans Ploravit, 94 Roisin Dubh ; or, the Bleeding Heart. ... 95 Deep crielh unto Deep, 96 War-Song of Mac Carthy, 97 Florence Mac Carthy's Farewell to his English Love, 98 To the Same » • • .99 The Dirge of Kildare, .... 100 CONTENTS. IX Great Earl War-Song of Tirconnell's Bard at the Battle of Blackwater, .... War-Song of Leix, The Sugane Earl, Lament of Ormond on the Death of the of Desmond, his Foe, The Phantom Funeral, The March to Kinsale, Kinsale, Dirge, ..... Song, The Sea- Watcher, To Nuala in Rome, Winter Song, . . The Arraignment ; or, First and Last, The Suppression of the Faith in Ulster. Bardic Ode, .... The Friendly Blight, . Eva, King Charles's " Graces," Nemesis, .... Sibylla lernensis, . The Intercession, Dirge of Rory O'More, . The Battle of Benburb ; a Bardic The Wail of Thomond, Dirge of Owen Roe O'Neill, The Bishop of Ross, Dirge, The Irish Slave in Barbadoes, Ih Ruin Reconciled, The Wheel of Affliction, Epilogue, .... Ode X CONTENTS. PART III. PROLOGUE. Parvuli Ejus, ....... The Lady turned Beggar, Archbisliop Plunket, . . . . . A Ballad of Sarsfield ; or, the Bursting of the Guns A Ballad of Athlone ; or, llow they Broke the Bridge, .... A Song of the Brigade, A Song of the Brigade, Song, ...... A Brigade Song, The New Race, .... The Last Alac Carthymore, The Requital, .... A Song of the Brigade, The Clianged Music, The J\Iinstrel of the Later Day, The Irish Exile at Fiesole, Gaiety in Penal Days, Double-Lived ; or, Cross and Crown, Tna, Adduxit in Tenebris, Song Religio Novissima, » . PAGE 171 172 175 177 179 181 182 183 184 188 188 191 192 194 195 196 198 199 200 202 203 204 205 CONTENTS. XI Hope in Death, The Decree, St Brigid of the Lej^ends, Omens of the Eighteenth Century, The Graves, The Cause, Memory, .... Ode to Ethnea reading Homer, The Long Dying, A Bard's Love, Unrevealed, . Song, . • . . . St. Brigid of the Convents, In Far Lands, The Hermit's Counsel, Evening Melody, Caro Requiescet, The Secret of Power, . Evening Melody, Arbor Nobilis, The " Old Land," Grattan, .... The Secret Joy, . Insight, .... Song, .... The Clue Ode on the First Repeal of Penal Laws. All-Hallows, or the Monk's Dream ; a Prophecy, Hymn, the Church, Song, Irish Airs, .... XII CONTENTS. PAOR The Destined Hour, 248 The Change 249 Semper Eadem, ....... 250 Epilogue, 251 Notes, 253 PEEFACE. " Tnisfail" is an attempt to represent, as in a picture, the most stormy, but the most poetic period of Irish History. In old times poetry and iiistory were more alvin tlian they h:ive lately been. In England and in Spain a series of ballads had early grown up, out of which rose the later literature of each country, ballads that recorded many a precious passage of old times, and embodied the genius, as well as the manners, of the past. Irish History no longer stands thus related to letters. Nowhere in Ireland can we move without being challenged by the monuments of the past ; yet, for most of her sons, as for the traveller, there exists no Alfred, and no Wallace. For the English-speaking part of the population nearly the whole of the old bardic literature has perished, and with it much of a history admirable for the manner in which it exhibits the finer, together with the more barbaric, traits of a society the civiliza- tion c>f which had been checked by adverse circumstances. Yet for centuries the bards occupied a more im[)ortant position in Ireland than in any other ])art of the West : their dignity was next to the regal ; their influence over the people unbounded ; and they possessed all the secu- lar learning then in the land. The Gael required that b XIV PREFACE. even the maxims of the law should he delivered to him in verse, as well as that the lines of the Princes and Chiefs should be thus traced. The influence of the priest alone equalled that of the bard, and between these two orders a rivalry often existed. We have the testimony of Spencer as to the merit and power of the bards so late as the sixteenth century. In Ireland the alliance between poetry and love of country was, perhaps, closer than elsewhere. For ages the History of Ireland was but a record of calamity ; and to every generous nature his country becomes endeared by her sufferings. But even in earlier days the bards must have found their best subjects for song among the picturesque and romantic details of Irish story. The antiquity to which it mounted excited imaginative sym- pathies : the dimness with which large tracts of it were invested gave a more striking prominence to what re- mained of it — those great, half-isolated Records which loomed through the mist, like mountain behind mountain retiring into more and more remote distance. Long before those three golden centuries succeeding her conversion to Christianity Ireland possessed civiliza- tion, laws, and a time-honoured monarchy. It was in part for this reason that she at once became the great missionary land of the north, while foreigners flocked in crowds to her colleges. Her Faith was a tree that rapidly " covered the lands with its branches," because it had been planted " by the water side." If Ireland had to " wait long for her martyrs," it was because the genius of her early civilization was less opposed than that of other Western Nations to Christianit)'. JMost of Europe, including Britain and Gaul,»had received the liomau civilization. With Pagan Rome Ireland had PREFACE. XV had no dealings, closely as she has been linked with Christian Rome, She was an Eastern nation in the West. Her civilization was patriarchal, not military, in essence ; its type was the family, not the army ; it had more affinity with the Church, when the Church yet dwelled in tents, than with the complex fabric of the State. It was a civilization of clans. In every clan the bard sang the ancient glories of the race. Another Eastern characteristic which Ireland has never lost is that which often, but erroneously, goes by the name of " Fatalism." The intense Theism which has ever belonged to the East survived in Ireland as an instinct no less than as a Faith. The Irish have commonly found it more easy to recognize the Divine hand than secondary causes. They have ever regarded Religion as the chief possession of man. Such nations are ever attached to the Past. Her Past was indeed too great a thing to be forgotten. Even in our own days, remote and prosaic, by the banks of the Boync, amid more troubled memorials, we stand and wonder at those tamuli, which remind us of the pyra- mids, and the winding galleries of which are supposed to retain the ashes of those kings of the Tuatha de Danaun, who ruled in Ireland before the Milesian race. In the isles of Arran, in Kerry, and in Donegal, we still find the remains of cairn and cromlech, and rath, of stone forts, and of those singular houses called " cloghauus" with their strange bee-hive roofs. The Royal Irish Academy shews us its silver shields, golden crowns, cups, torques, spcar-heads of bronze, &c. The illumi- Dated Missals and Br eviaries of the Dublin University prove to us that no sooner had the land become Christian than it applied to sacred purposes the skill it had long XVl PREFACE. before possessed. Ccnttiries earlier, when Ihe neigh- bouring countries were barbarous, its Brehon Laws had constituted a complete code of civil rule; while many of its social usages, fosterage, for instance, and the clan tenure of land, hereditary offices, eric, &c., were as deeply rooted in the national heart, as when, 1500 years later, arbitrary laws endeavoured in vain to eradicate them. The long list of 118 kings, previous to the time of St. Patrick, astonishes us at first ; but, on examining the material records still existing, we find fibundant proofs of the antiquity of Irish civilization. The traces of the husbandman's labour remains on the summit of hills which have not been cultivated within the records of tradition, and the implements with which he toiled have been found in the depth of forest or bog. If ancient memorials of Ireland are interesting to us, how much more so must they have proved to the Irish of an earlier day ! A green and woody knoll beside Lough Derg is all that for us remains of Kincora, the palace of the Munster Kings, and home of Brian the Great. But to a Gael in the fifteenth century its ruins must have spoken a language as ititelligible as that in which old castles battered by Mountjoy address us. To the Irishman, prince or peasant, Nial of the Nino Hostages was as familiar a name as Bruce was to the Scottish. Bard and chronicler told how, long before St. Patrick had summoned King Laeghaire to believe, Nial had ruled over all Ireland ; how he had been the ancestor of the tribe of Hi-Nial, from which were descended the Princes of Tirconnell and Tyrone, at whose name the children of Norman nobles in the Pah, the four counties round Dublin, trembled; how he had sent agjainst Britain and Gaul those naval expeditions, still for U3 recorded in PREFACE. XVll Roman verse ;* how he had leagued with his country- men in Scotland, those Scoti who with the .Plots had again and again driven back the Romans behind their further wall till they left the land defenceless ; and how, at last, he had fallen at sea, in the port of Boulogne, by the hand of his rival, Eochy. From priest as well as bard he would have heard of the Irish Numa, King Cormac ; how he had succeeded to his father, a.d. 227 ; how he had established three colleges, one for war, one for history, and one for jurisprudence; how he had reduced the old Brehon Law into a code; how he had assembled at his palace of Tara his bards and chroni- clers, and commanded them to collect all the ancient aimals of Ireland into a series — the " Psalter of Tara ;" how he had written a book called " the Institutions of a Prince," and stored in it the civil wisdom of his time ; how, in obedience to law, he had resigned his throne on becoming disfigured by a wound ; and how it was piously believed that, lefore his death, Christianity had reached him, and he had become a believer. Still more often would he have heard the tale of King Cormac's Grandfather, Conn of the Hundred Fights, who succeeded to the crown of all Ireland, a.d. 123, and who was at last compelled to surrender one half of it to Eoghan More (Eugene the Great), King of Munster. He would have heard how the latter, on the war break- ing out again, had sought and found allies in Spain and with thein had perished in a night surprise; how his rival, Coim of the Hundred Fights, was slain, in the hundreth year of his age, by a king of Ulster; and how * " Totam cum Scotus Icniein Movit, et iufesto apumavit remige Xethis." — Claudiun. XVIU PKEFACE. from a king who united the blood of Conn and of Eu- gene were descended the great houses of Munster, those of the Dalcassian race, as the O'Briens, who hehl sway in Thomond or north Munster, and those of the Eu- genian race, as the Mac Carthys, who held it for so many years in Desmond or south Munster, and were at last obliged to share it wilh the Geraldines. But the records of which every song-loving Gael heard went up to periods long before the Christian Era. He hoard how at a time when the bards had long enjoyed the dignities in Christian times bestowed on the clergy, a storm had arisen against this song-church, accused of inordinate wealth and abused power, and for an interval driven it into exile. He heard how, earlier still, King Eochy liad constituted the five provincial kingdoms, as centuries previously King Ugony More had dividedvlre- land into twenty-five, for the benefit of his twenty-five sons, compelling his people to swear by the " sun and the moon, the dew, and all elements visible and invisible," that their inheritance should not be taken from them forever. He heard how Emania, the palace of the Ulster kings had been built, before the time of Ugony, by Queen Macha, who had compelled rival princes to toil at the foundations, and marked with the point of her torque the spot where the work was to begin. The annalist of Clonmacnoise told him how for 8o0 years the Red-branch Knights, the great order of Pagan Chivalry, had gone in and come out among its halls ; how another Queen, Maeve, or Maude, who had herself built the Connaught Palace of Cruachan, invaded Ulster at the head of her army ; how her Gamanradians of lorras had fought with the Red-branch Chivalry ; and ho*v, centuries later, the three CoUas had burned to the ground that Emania PREFACE. XIX of ^vliich the only record remaining was then a lonely rath near Armagli ! The chronicler would tlien have told him that the palace of Tara had been built by King Ollamh Fodhla centuries before even that of Emania had been heard of; that in it, reign after reign, was held the great Triennial Assembly of chiefs, bards, and histo^ rians ; that each warrior had taken the seat appointed for him beneath his own banner, during deliberations conducted with a solemnity half regal, half sacerdotal ; that these assemblies continued to take place till a.d. 554, and that it was deserted for ever in consequence of a malison pronounced against it by St. Rodanus, of Lothra. Emania had enjoyed more years of splendour than had elapsed between the first Danish invasion and Queen Elizabeth's wars ; yet its greatness was' over before Ireland had confessed tlie Christian Faith. Tara had lasted longer than the whole period of Danish, Norman, and Saxon wars united ; yet the weeds had begun to creep over its old rath as many centuries be- fore Henry II. had landed in Ireland as had elapsed between his time and that of the Anglo-Dutch invasion. Glancing thus back with the bards from epoch to epoch we reach at last the remote one of tlie Milesian settle- ment. The most learned among recent antiquarians assure us that a sceptical spirit respecting tliat settlement is as unphilosophical as a credulous spirit would have been regarded during the last century. They affirm that the whole social system of Ireland having been based upon genealogical claims, her most important institutions were formed for the purpose of recording facts and dates accurately ; and they state that the early chronicles are remarkably confirraed by Science as regards eclipses, XX PREFACE. astronomical calculations, &c. It is certain that the Gael evei' looked upon this period as tiie authentic begin- ning of Irish glories, however problematical her earlier legends might be. Rejecting the «;laims to a greater antiquity, Charles O'Connor, of Balenagar, assigns to the establishment of the Milesian monarchy in Ireland the date of 760 years before our -Era, making it thus nearly contemporaneous with the foundation of Rome. * A race called Gadelian, or Gaelic, and at a later period called Scoti (as is supposed from their claims to a Sci/- thian descent^, migrated to Ireland from Spain under the leadership of the six sons of Milcsius, king of that country. Their names were Hebor, Herenion, Doim, Colpa, Ir, and Amergin. The brothers founded that Gaelic monarchy which had lasted for nearly 2,000 years when the mighty Norman race extended its conquests from England to Ireland, a land the political and reli- gious institutions of which had not yet wholly recovered the effects of the Danish inroads. It is with the Norman conquests in Ireland that the present Poem commences. It is necessary to make a few remarks respecting the chief characteristics of Irish History from that period to the latter part of the eighteenth century. The six centuries of Irish History, illustrated by " Inisi-ail," divide tlijemselves into three portions. The first endured for about 300 years. Its predominant characteristic was Outlawry. The Brehon Law was set aside by the conquering race, and the English Law was refused. The weak were the prey of the strong.f Yet even in those ages of wrong and rapine all was not • .iee.Note in p. 15. t See Note in p. 65, and p. 70. PREFACE. XXI suffering. Flowers spring up by the torrent's bed; and man}' a gay song was sung beneath the invader's fortress. Moreover, in the midst of the Norman settlements, the (iaelic chief held his own, and the old clan life went on as before. Partly through intermarriages, the Norman nobles, in the remoter parts of Ireland, became Irish Chiefs, speaking the national language, and adopting the national usages. It is thus that Keating, writing his his- tory amid the storms of the seventeenth century, speaks of this race, " Notwithstanding what has been said of the cruelties and sacrilegious acts of some of those foreigners who came into Ireland, many of them were men of virtue and strict piety, who promoted the service of God and tlie cause of religion by erecting churches and monas- teries, and bestowing large revenues upon them for their support; and God rewarded their charity and acts of mercy with particular marks of His favour, and not only blessed thom in their own persons, but in a noble and Avorthy posterity." Their gradual amalgamation with the nation at large is a pledge that no estrangement of race or class among Ireland's sons can bo perma- ment. The second period is characterized by the wars of Religion. They completed the union of the Gaelic and Norman races. When the last great act of the tragedy had come, at the same side the ancient foes fought and fell. The Crorawellian victories, .and the confiscation of more than half Ireland at that time, reduced with com- paratively few exceptions the chiefs of both the old races to that condition to which the Geraldines of Des- mond had previously been brought by the confiscations of Elizabeth, and the Ulster princes by those of James I. This period ends with the dethronement of James 11. XXU PREFACE. when the fall of the old Monarchy was consummated by that of the old Nobility and the old Faith. The third period is that of tiie Penal Laws, and lasted till the days of Grattan. A succession of wars, re- newed during centuries with heroic perseverance, in de- fence of ancient laws, national existence, and religious freedom, were barren of their intended result. Foreign alliances, even during periods wlien England was torn by dynastic and religious dissensions, had always provefl abortive. The struggle had but rendered Ireland famous among the nations, and scattered among them her war- riors, as her missionaries had been scattered in old times. Wrong had run its complete course. But the people endured. The Faith for which it had suffered preserved the nationality. The chains fell off. A more glorious triumph than that so often sought liad been reserved for Ireland. It was awarded, not to a fortunate moment, but to silent years ; not to nobles, but to a people — among whom, however, many convulsions had sown wide the seed of nobility; not to spasmodic action, but to inflexible fortitude ; not to arms, but to faith. When the storm had rolled by there emerged a People and a Religion. Persons of the most ditrerent prepossessions have arrived at practically the same estimate of Irish His- tory, and in it have thus found the moral of the tale. The Catholic sees in Ireland an image of the Church itself — for three centuries the great missionary of the Faith; for throe later its martyr; ever in tribulation, but never consumed; at one time exalted as a na- tion, at another deposed from nationhood, but to become more powerful as a race, and effecting more in its dis- persions than it could have done if oppression, and the PREFACE. XXlll poverty bequeathed by oppression, had never driven it from home. To one of a different creed a conclusion morally the same is differently coloured. Justice, he says, ultimately triumphs over wrong. Liberty cannot be trampled down for ever. A Religion is a Cause : and a cause and a people in permanent union are indomitable. The philosopher shapes the result thus : — The relation between the three periods of Irish History is logical. The Outlawry of the first period rendered it impossible that in the second a new religion should be introduced into Ireland by means of Law. Who were to bow before the new laws at variance with the old traditions? Not kernes, who had never had the benefit of law : not Barons, whose only law had been their own will. The struggle but identified for ever the National sentiment with the Catholic sentiment. Equally close appears to him the connection between the second and the third period of Irish History. The Penal Laws of the latter ■were blunted by the wholesale confiscations of the former. Misery became the pledge for fidelity. To the Irish people there remained nothing but their Faith. During the long night of persecution its truths shone out like stars, and wrote themselves indelibly on the heart of the nation. Its priests were its only friends : the next world was its nearest hope : and it was not likely that either would bo forsaken. In the end, per- manent instincts and principles triumphed over temporary necessities. In the failure of persecuting laws and the restoration of Ireland one man sees the victory of Faith, another that of Justice, and a third that of Reason ; three things that ever work, on the long run, to the same result. In these days few are probably so biassed by party XXIV I'UEFACE. bitterness as to grudge an epitaph to Virtue and Calamity in times gone hy. liut « ere the History of Ireland riglitly studied by the more intelligent and influential of her sons (by the people it has never been forgotten) how many obstacles would be removed to kindly feeling between classes! how much would misinterpretation of motives be abated ! how zealous would all honorable men be to perpetuate the right, and to abolish every ves- tige of inequality in tlie Present that gives a bitterness, not known in other countries, to those heroic recollec- tions of the Past from which all nations, except the meanest, derive their moral life. Ireland has suffered griveously from ignorance of Irish History, and we are still reminded by some persons that even the "pride of knowledge" hardly exceeds the occasional [)ride of ignor- ance. Tliat ignorance was not dispelled by the anti- quarian labours of Ussher and Ware, Ledwich and Lanigan, aud O'Connor. Let us hope that the kindred labours of Dr. Petrie, Dr. Todd, Dean Graves, Dr. Reaves, and those great, lamented scholars, Dr. O'Douo- van, and Professor O'Curry, labours as distinguished by religious impartiality as by depth, may prove more suc- cessful. A timid caution may shrink from historical studies (as though in an age of education the most in- teresting portion of human knowledge could be sup- pressed), but a manly prudence will enjoin them. It is only when the present has received the great interpre- tation of the past that the paths of wisdom and virtue lie plain before us. To such studies poetry may contribute. Sir Walter Scott added ballads of his own to the Border Minstrelsy and the Songs of the Jacobites; and in those of Lord Macaulay and Professor Aytoun, the Puritans and PKEFACE. XXV Cavaliers sing their hate or love as vividly, and therefore as instructively, as they could have done in the days of Cromwell and Rupert. As such poems make us ac- quainted with the deeper springs of action, and with those imaginative instincts the might of which, like that of the imponderable agents in the material world, is at once secret and incalculable, history forgets party politics in human interests. It is thus that poetry exercises her high moral function in connection with history. She deepens our sympathies with those who contended for the Right ; yet she reminds us also of the allowance to be made for those who were unhappily ranged on the oppo- site side, whether by necessity, by custom, or by that vain and aggressive patriotism to which must be assigned a place among the illicit afi'ections. Her spirit is com- prehensive. She takes large views of things — discerning and confessing upon which side, ow the whole, has been the Right, and on which the Wrong: for, as regards mere detail, it is obvious thnt, so long as retaliation remains an attribute of our fallen nature, there must, in every ])rolonged struggle, be much of incidental wrong at both sides. But her spirit is also penetrating. She recog- nises the force of hostile traditions, detects high impulses under unworthy disguises, and distinguishes between the individual and the cause. Thus inspired, history is en- abled at once to discharge its tw-o great corelative duties, that to Justice, which so many evade in promiscuous condemnation, and that to Charity, a substitute for which is so often found in moral indift'erence. " Inisfail" may be regarded as a National Chronicle cast in a poetic form. Its aim is to embody the essence of a nation's history — a theme, I believe, original in poetry. Contemporary historic poems touch us with a XXVI I'REFACE. magical hand ; but they often pass by the most impor- tant events, and linger beside the most trivial. Looking back upon history, as from a vantage ground, its general jiroportions become palpable ; and the themes to which poetry attaches herself are either those critical junctures iipon which the fortunes of a nation turn, or such acci- dents of a lighter sort as illustrate the cliaracter of a race. A historic series of poems thus becomes possible, tlie interest of which is continuous, and the course of which reveals an increasing significance. Such a series, however, as it constitutes a Whole, must be read in its proper order if its moaning is to be understood, and the Unity of the poem is to be felt. The character of Irish History rendered it natural that its illustration should be chiefly lyrical, though not infrequently cast in the ballad form also. In this respect I have endeavoured, where I might, to imitate the example of Ireland's ancient bards. Throughout, I have endeavoured to be true to the inner spirit of Irish History, constant to its meaning, and fol- lowing its changes. This accounts for the change of treatment that the reader will observe in the three Parts of the poem which correspond with the three periods of the history recorded. In Part I. the tone is chiefly legendary, and tlie treatment objective, because the period of Irish History illustrated in it is that which bordered most nearly upon the legends of Ireland's heroic time. In Part II. the tone becomes more dra- matic, the tragic struggle having reached its agony. In Part III. the more impassioned part of the conflict being over, the predominant tone is elegiac. The same fidelity to Irish History rendered necessary that recur- rence to certain fundamental ideas which the reader will observe, as the poem advances, in various degrees of PREFACE. XXVU development — such ideas as those of a Providence punishing at once and exalting; the penance of the Norman ; the penance of the Gael; the Apostolic mis- sion of Ireland ; her undying hope ; the fidelity of her sous in far lands, &c. The same note is struck again and again in the life of a nation, as in that of an indivi- dual, but ever in a different octave. Everywhere I have endeavoured to make the human prevail over the merely political interest of the theme, and to refer to Ireland's Faith simply in its national relations, apart from polemics. A National Chronicle in verse would, if faithful, be an echo of that voice which comes from the heart of a peo- ple, and is heard in festive hall and in the village circle, in the church-porch, and on the battle-field. That voice has many tones besides the sadder and more solemn it records the brief pathetic joy which vanishes like a flame, and the hope like the perennial fountain. 'The main scope, however, of a poem which illustrates the in- terior life of a nation — the biography of a people — must be moral. The moral of a brief individual life is often hidden. Nations are patriarchs ; and their lives last long enough to vindicate the ways of God. Poetry has ever made its boast of what is called Poetic Justice. Nowhere is that justice more mani- fested than in the history of a race. But such a history must be contemplated from the right point of view, which can only be that of Religion. It is a just per- spective that reveals the harmony. Such a harmony would be presented to us by the history of the world, if we could grasp it as a whole. It is presented to us in that of the Chosen People (the only history entirely true) : and to the history of that people, so long as it remained faithful, there will ever be found points of XXVIU PREFACE. resemblance in that of other Nations, so long as they have been faithful, and so long as their life has been the life from within, not the mere outward life of material pros- perity. In them will ever be found that result which wo note so pre-eminently in the History of Ireland — the weapons of oppression converted to the ends of right — outward affliction ending in moral triumph — Divine strength perfected in man's weakness. It has been said that Irish History aboinids in toiicli- ing and dramatic details, but that it is essentially frag- mentary. Religion imparts completeness to it. When Religion threw off the bonds of cenlwries, Irish History entered on its consummation, and justice won the most exalted of her triumphs in modern times. Had it been otherwise, Irish History would have been no theme for song. Most unfit for poetry, however pathetic it may be, is atiy subject the substance of which is but violence and wrong, and the main resultant of which is despondency. Under the tumults with which poetry deals there is ever an inner voice of peace. *.Motnory — mournful and faithful — has been called by some the great Inspirer of Poetry. There is a Hope, the sister of devout Memory, which is its inspirer no less. Such Hope may stand on a tomb- stone ; but her eyes are fixed on heaven ; and if her Song begins in dirges it ends in hymns. • " Dosiderium." — See Mr. Kedi.e's Lecturet on Poelry, INISFAIL; A LYRICAL CHRONICLE OF IRELAND, |n ®^t£ farts. " A dirge devoutly breathed o'er sorrows past." Wordsworth. PART I. 1. The Invasion. 2. The Outlawry. The period of Irish history illustrated by the follow- ing poem is that included between the latter part of the twelfth century and the latter part of the eighteenth. That period presents the unity of scope which poetry needs. It begins with the evening twilight that suc- ceeded a long and radiant, though often stormy, day ; it keeps the watches of a tragic night ; and it ends with the happier omens of returning dawn. To these si.x centuries belongs also a remarkable unity of spirit. All the struggles that shook them were characterized at once by the spirit of Liberty and that of Loyalty, whether directed to Gaelic Princes, to Norman Chiefs, who had become Irish, to Charles, or to James. Re- cent, and ancient, Irish history have, each of them, a spirit of its own. '• Inisfail" is restricted by its theme to the intermediate period ; but in its bard -songs occa- sional allusions are made to Ireland's iieroic time, that of her kings and saints, who flourished previous to the Danish incursions. Truth of costume required such bardic allusions, which are also, perhaps, not without their advantage, supplying, as they do, something ana- logous to the golden back-ground the old painters were fond of. PAET I. THE THREE WOES. ^pHAT Angel whose charge is Eire sang thus -*- o'er the dark isle winging : — By a virgin his song was heard at a tempest's ruinous close : " Three golden ages God gave while your tender '' green blade was springing : "Faith's earliest harvest is reap'd. To-day '' God sends you three Woes. " For ages three, without Laws ye shall flee as " beasts in the forest : " For an age, and a half age, Faith shall bring <' not peace but a sword : 'Then Laws shall rend you, like eagles, sharp- *' fang'd, of your scourges the sorest : 4 INISPAIL. '< When these three Woes are past look up, for "your Hope is restored. " The times of your woe shall be twice the time " of your foregone glory : " But fourfold at last shall lie the grain on " yoiu' granary floor." The seas in vapour shall fleet, and in ashes the mountains hoary : Let God do that which He wills. Let His servants endure and adore ! THE WARNING. A. D. 1170. IN the heaven were portents dire : On the earth were sign and omen : Bleeding stars and rain of .fire Dearth and plague foretold their coming. Causeless panics on the crowd Fell, and strong men wept aloud : Ere the Northmen cross'd tlie seas, Said the bards, were signs like these. THE PAST GLORIES. n. Time was given us to repent : Prophets challeng'd plain and city: But we scorn'd each warning sent, And outwrestled God's great pity. 'Twixt tlie blood-stained brother bands Mitred Laurence raised his hands,* Kaised Saint Patrick's cross on high : We despised him ; and we die. THE PAST GLORIES. OUR Kings sat of old in Emania and Tara : Those new kings whence are they ? Their names are unknown 1 Our saints lie cntomb'd in Ardmagh and Cilldara; Their relics are healing ; their graves arc grass grown. Our princes of old, when their warfare was over, As pilgrims forth wander'd ; as hermits found rest : Shall the hand of the stranger theii' ashes uncover In Benchor the holy, in Aran the blest ? * St. Laurence O'Toole, Archbishop of Dublin. 6 INISFAIL. II. Not so,* by the race our Dalriada planted I In Alba were children ; we sent her a man. Battles won in Argyle in Dunedin they chaunted; King Kenneth completed what Fergus began. Our name is her name : she is Alba no longer : Her kings are our blood, and she crowns them at Scone ; Strong- hearted they are, and strong-handed, but stronger When throned on our Lia Fail, Destiny's stone !f ' Innumerable authorities, Irish, English, and Scotch, record that remarkable incident, the establishment of an Irish colony in Western Scotland, at that time named Alba — a colony from which that noble country derived its later name, the chief part of its popula- tion, and its Royal House, from which, through the Stuarls, our present Sovereign is descended. This set- tlement is referred to by the Venerable Bede. t " Malcolm IV., at the age of twelve years, succeeded " to his excellent grandfather, David I., in 1 153. Being " a Celtic prince, succeeding to a people of whom the "great proportion were Celts, he was inaugurated at " Scone-with the peculiar ceremonies belonging to the " Scoto-Irish race. In compliance with their ancient " customs, he was placed upon a fated stone, dedicated " to this solemn use, and brought for that purpose from "Ireland, by Fergus, the son of Eric. An Iro-Scot- " tish, or Highland bard, also stepped forward and THE HOUSE NORMAN. THE HOUSE NORMAN. Among the churches sacked and burnt by Dermod, and his Norman allies, was that of Kells. The monks are supposed to have been interrupted, while celebrating the obsequies of their slaughtered brethren, by the return of the despoilers. THE walls are black : but the floor is red ! Blood !— there is blood on the convent floor • Woe to the mighty : that blood they she(J : Woe, woe, de Boliun ! Woe, woe, le Poer ! Fitz-Walter, beware ! the years are strong : De Burgh, de Burgh ! God rights the wrong. Ye have murder'd priests : the hour draws nigh When your sons unshriven,without priest, shalldie. " chaunted to the people a Gaelic poem, containing a •' catalogue of the young king's ancestors, from the "reign of the same Fergus, founder of the Dynasty." (Sir W. Scott's History of Scotland, p. 34, vol. 1.) He proceeds to record the removal, by Edward I., of the stone of Destiny from Scone to Westminster Abbey, where it still supports the chair of Edward the Con. fessor, used at coronations. O INISFAIL. II. Toll for the mighty ones : brethren toll ! ■ They stand astonish'd ! what seek they here? Through tower and through turret the loud winds roll, But the yellow lights shake not around the bier. They are here unbidden! — stand back, ye proud! God shapes the empires as wind the cloud. The offence must come : but the deed is sin : Toll the death-bell : the death-psalms begin. III. The happy dead with God find rest : For them no funeral bell we toll. Fitz-IIugh ! Death sits upon thy crest ! De Clare ! Death sits upon thy soul ! Toll, monks, the death-bell ; toll for them Who masque under helmet and diadem : — Death's masque is sin. The living arc they Who live with God in eternal day! IV. Fitz-Maurice is sentenced! Soimd, monks, his knell ! As Roderick fell must de Courcy fall. Toll for Fitz-Gcrald the funeral bell : The blood of O'Rourke is on Lacy's wall.* * Ticrnan O'Rourke was treacherously slain by Hugh de Lacy at a conference. In 1317 the de Lacys THE HOUSE KOBMAN. 9 The lions are ye of the robber kind ! But when ye lie old in your dens and blind The wolves and the jackals on you sliall prey, From the same shore sent. Beware that day ! V. Toll for the conquerors : theirs the doom ! For the gi-eat House Norman : its bud is nipt ! Ah, princely house, when your hour is come Your dirge shall be sung not in church but crypt I We mourn you in time. A baser scourge Than yours that day will forbid the dirge ! Two thousand years to the Gael God gave ; — Four hundred shall open the Norman's grave ! Thus with threne and with stern lament For their brethren dead the old monks made moan In the convent of Kells, the first day of Lent, One thousand one hundred and seventy one. joined the standard of Edward Bruce. John de Lacy fell into the hands of the Lord Justice, and was sen- tenced to be pressed to death. 10 INISFATL. THE MALISON. THE Curse of that land which in ban and in blessing Hath puissance through prayer and through penance, alight On the False One who whisper'd, the traitor's hand pressing, " I ride without guards in the morning — good- night!" beautiful serpent ! O woman fiend-hearted! Wife false to O'Ruark! queen base to tliy trust! The glory of ages for ever departed That hour from the isle of the saintly and just. ir. The Curse of that land on the monarchs disloyal, Who welcomed tbe invader, and knelt at his knee ! False Derniod, false Donald — the chieftains once royal Of the Deasies and Ossory, cursed let them be! Their name and their shame make eternal. En- grave them On the cliffs which the great billows buffet and stain : * THE MALISON. 11 Like billows the nations, when tyrants enslave them, Swell up in their fury — not always in vain ! III. But praise in the churches, and worship and honour To him Avho, betray'd and deserted, fought on ! All praise to king Roderick, the prince of Clan- Connor, The king of all Erin, and Cathall his son ! May the million-voiced chaunt that in endless ex- pansion Sweeps onward through heaven his praises prolong ; May the heaven of heavens this night be the mansion Of the good king who died in the cloisters of Cong I* * The story of the Irish Helen is well Imown. Dervorgil, the wife of O'Ruark, Prince of Breffny, fled with Dcrniod Mac Murroiigh, King of Leinster. The latter, on his deposition, wont to England, where he contracted alliances with Henry II. and Strongbow against Roderick O'Connor, the last Gaelic king of all Ireland. Dervorgil ultimately fonnd a refuge at Mellifont, where she lived in penance and work of charity. Der- mod died at Ferns, under circumstances of strange hor- ror. Exhausted by domestic discords, as well as the ca- 12 INISFAIL. THE LEGENDS. A BARD SONG. I. rr^HE woods rose slowly ; the cloutls sail'd on ; X Man trod not yet the island wide : A ship drew near from the rising sun ; — Who ruled it ? the Scythian Parricide. * Battles were lost and battles were won ; New lakes burst open, old forests died : For ages once more in the land was none : God slew the race of the Parricide. II. There is nothing that lasts save the Pine and Bard : I, Fintan the bard, was living then ! lamities of his country, Roderick retired to the monas- tei-y he had founded at Cong. He died there at the age of 82, and was interred at Clonmacnoise, the burial-place of the Irish Kings. * Parthalon. According to the legend he fled from his country, whore lie had been guilty of parricide, and founded tlie first colony iu li-cland. ^t was swept off by pestilence after the kpse of 300 years. HYMN. 13 Tall grows the pine upon Slieve-Clonard : It dies : in the loud harp it lives again.* Give praise to the bard and a huge reward ! Give praise to the bard that gives praise to men I My curse upon Aodh the priest of Skard Who jeers at the bard-songs of Ikerren ! HYMN, ON THE FOUNDING OF THE ABBEY OF ST. THOMAS THE MARTYR (A BECKET), IN DUBLIN, A.D. 1177. THUS with expiatory rite The Roman priest and Laurence sang, And loud the regal towers that night With music and with feasting rang. I. Rejoice thou race of man, rejoice ! To-day the Church renews her boast Of England's Thomas ; and her voice Is echoed by the heavenly host. * The bards claimed a sort of poetical immortality . They were superior to the injuries of time, and spoke as if they had witnessed what they recorded. 14 INISFAIL. Eejoicc, whoever love the right ; Rejoice, ye faithful men and true : The Prince of Peace o'errules the fight ; The many fall before the few. II. Behold a great high priest with rays Of martyrdom's red sunset crown'd ! No other like him in tlie days Wherein he trod the earth Avas found. The swords of men unholy met Above him clashing, and he bled : But God, the God he served, hath set A wreath unfading on his head. III. Great is the priestly charge, and great The line to whom that charge is given ! It comes not, that pontificate. Save from the great High Priest in heaven! A frowning king no equal brook'd : " Obey," he cried, " my will, or die :" Thomas, like Stephen, heaveuAvard look'd, And saw the Son of Man on high. IV. Blest is the People blest and strong, That 'mid its pontiffs counts a saint ! His vii'tuous memory lasting long Shall keep its altars pure from taint. THE LEGENDS. 15 The heathen plot, the tyrants rage ; But in their Saint the poor shall find. - A shield, or after many an age A light restored to guide the blind.* THE LEGENDS A BARD-SONG. DEAD is the Prince of the Silver Hand,| And dead Eochy the son of Ere ! Ere lived Milesiiis they ruled the land Thou hast ruled and lost in turn, OTluark ! * " The celebrated Abbey of St. Thomas the Martyr "was founded in Dublin by Fitz-Adelni, by order of " Henry Second. The site was the place now called " Thomas' Court. In the presence of Cardinal Vivian " and St. Laurence O'Toole the deputy endowed it with "a carucate of land called Douore." — Havebtit's Hist, of Ireland, p. 222. t This belongs to the legendary not the historical portion of the Irish Annals. Before the establishment ( f the great Milesian, or Gaelic, race in Ireland, the monarchy of which expired with Roderick, the country had been successively possessed by two races, the Fir- bolgs, and the Tuatha de Danann. Nuad "of the Silver Hand" was the leader of the Tuatha de Danann, who are 16 INISFAIL. Two thousand years have pass'd since then, And clans and kingdoms in blind commotion Have butted at heaven and sunk again As the great waves sink in the depths of ocean. n. Last King of the Gaels of Eire, be still ! What God decrees must come to pass : There is none that soundeth His "Way or Will : His hand is iron, and earth is glass. Where built the Fii'bolgs there shrieks the owl ; The Tuatha bequeath'd but the name of Eire: Roderick, our last of kings, thy cowl Outweighs the crown of thy kingly sire ! said by the bards to have landed in Ireland a.m. 3303. Eochy, the last of the Firbolgic kings, ^vas slain by them ; and a cairn still shown on the seacoast near Sligo is said to be his grave. Twenty-seven years later Nuad was killed in battle by Balor " of the mighty blows," a Fomorian. The sway of the Tuatha de Danann is said to have lasted for 197 years, when it was terminated by the immigration of the Milesian race. The Tuatha de Danann gave Ireland her name. The three names by which Ireland was called in early years, Eire, Banba, and Fodhla, were assigned to her in consequence of their belonging to the wives of the three last kings of the Tuatha de Danann race, each of wiiom reigned successively during a single year. THE FAITHFUL NORMAN. 17 THE FAITHFUL NORMAN. * PRAISE to the valiant and faithful foe! Give us noble foes, not the friend who lies! We dread the drugg'd cup, not the open blow; AVe dread the old hate in the neAV disguise. * Maurice de Prendergast. This Knight " undertook " to bring the King of Ossory to a conference, on obtain- "ing the word of Strongbow and O'Brien that he should " be allowed to return in safety. Understanding, how- " ever, during the conference, that treachery was aboiit " to be used towards Mac Gilla Patrick, he rushed into " the Earl's presence, and ' swore by the cross of his " sword that no man there that day should dare lay " hands on the Kyng of Ossory.' Having redeemed " his word to the Irish Prince by conducting hira back " in safety, and defeated some of O'Brien's men whom " they met on the way with the spoils of Ossory, he spent " that night with iSIac Gilla Patrick in the woods, and " returned next day to the Earl."— Havertv's IJlsfonj of Ireland, p. 19B. Ireland is bound to remember both that among hor invaders there were to be found such traits ; and also that the treachery of some among her own sons con- tributed to her worst calamities. c 18 INISFAIL. To Os3ory's King they had pledged their word : He stood iu their camp, and their pledge they broke ; Then Maurice the Norman upraised his sword ; The cross on its hilt he kiss'd, and spoke : ir. " So long as this sword or this arm hath might "I swear by the cross which is lord of all, " By the faith and honour of noble and knight '' Who touches yon Prince by this hand shall fall !" So side by side through the throng they pass'd ; And Eire gave praise to the just and true. Brave foe ! the Past truth heals at last : There is room in the great heart of Eire for you! SONG. WILLOW-LIKE maid wdth the'long loose tresses, With locks like Diarba's, and fairy foot That gatherest up from the streamlet its cresses Above tlie lovv' caroller bending mute, SONG. 19 Those tresses black in a fillet bind, Or beware of Manannan the god of the wind! II. No fear of the Stranger with feet like those ; No fear of the robbers that couch in the glen : But the wind-God blows on thy cheek a rose, Then back returns to kiss it again, Manannan they say is the God in air — So sang the Tuatha — Bind close thy hair ! III. The red on her cheek was crescent still ; A smile ran o'er it and made reply As she cast from the darkling and sparkling rill The flash of a darkling and sparkling eye; Then over her shoulder her long locks flung And homeward tripp'd with a mirthful song. 20 INISFALL. THE LEGENDS. A BARD SONG. THEY fought ere sunrise at Tor Conainn ; * All (lay they fought on the wild sea-shore; The sun dropp'd downward ; they fought amain ; The tide rose upward ; they fought the more. The sands were cover d ; the sea grew red ; The warriors fought in the reddening Avave ; That night the sea was the sea-king's bed ; The land-king drifted by cliff and cave. II. Great was the rage in those ancient days (We were pagans then) in the land of Eire ; * This battle is the chief memorial of the Nemedians, (said to have come from the borders of the Euxine^ and of the Fomorians. The latter race are thought to have been pirates from Scandinavia. Their memory is pre- served in the "Giants' Causeway," the Irish name of which is Cloghauna-Fomharaigh, or " Stepping Stonea of the Fomorians." Nearly the whole Nemedian army were drowned by the sea in this battle, which was fought on the coast of Donegal, about* A M. 3066. THE BARD ETHELL. 21 Like eagles men vanquisli'd the noontide blaze ; Their bones were granite ; their nerves were wu'e. We are hinds to-day ! The Nemedian kings Like elk and bison of old stalk'd forth ; Their name— the sea-kings' — for ever clings To the " Giant Stepping Stones" round the North. THE BARD ETHELL. THIRTEENTH CENTDRY. I. I AM Ethell, the son of Conn ! Here I live at the foot of the hill ; I am clansman to Brian and servant to none ; "Whom I hated I hate, Avhom I loved love still. Blind am I. On milk I live, And meat (God sends it) on each Saint's Day, Though Donald INIac Art — may he never thrive — Last Shi'ovetide drove half my kine away ! II. At the brown hill's base, by the pale blue lake, I dwell, and see the things I saw ; The heron flap heavily up from the brake, 22 INISFAIL. The crow fly homeward with twig or straw, The wild duck, a silver line in wake, Cutting the still mere to far Bunaw. And the things that I heard though deaf I hear; From the tower in the island the feastful cheer; The horn from the woodlands ; the plunge of the stag, With the loud hounds after him, down from the crag. Sweet is the chase but the battle is sweeter ; More healthful, more joyous, for true men meeter! III. My hand is weak ; it once was strong : My heart burns still with its ancient fire : If any man smites me he does me wrong. For I was the Bard of Brian Mac Guire. If any man slay me — not unaware. By no chance blow, nor in wine and revel, I have stored Ijeforehand a curse in ni}'^ prayer For his kith and kin : for hii deed is evil. IV. There never was king, and there never will be, In battle or banquet like Malachi ! The Seers his reign had predictf d long ; He honour'd the bards, and gave gold for song. THE BAUD ETHELI,. 23 If rebels arose he put out their eyes ; If robbers plunder'd or burn'd the fanes He hung them in chaplets, like rosaries, That others beholding might take more pains ! There was none to women more reverent-minded For he held his mother, and Mary, dear ; If any man wrong'd them that man he blinded Or straight amerced him of hand or ear. There was none who founded more convents — none; In his palace the old and the poor were fed ; The orphan might walk, or the widow's son, Without groom or page to his throne or bed. In his council he mused with great brows divine And eyes like the eyes of the musing kine Upholding a Sceptre o'er which men said Seven Spirits of "Wisdom like fii'c-tongues played. He drain'd ten lakes and lie built ten bridges ; He bought a gold book for a thousand cows ; He slew ten Princes who brake their pledges ; With the bribed and the base he scorn'd to ca- rouse. He was sweet and awfid ; through all his reign God gave great harvests to vale and plain ; From his nurse's milk he was kind and brave : And when he went down to his well- wept grave Through the triumph of penance his soul uprose To God and the saints. Not so his foesl 24 INISFAIL. The king that came after! ah woe, woe, woe ! He doubted his friend and he trusted his foe. He bought and he sold : his kingdom old He pledged and he pawn'd to avenge a spite : No bard or prophet his birth foretold : He was guarded and warded both day and night : He counsell'd with fools and had boors at his feast ; He was cruel to Christian and kind to beast : Men smiled when they talk'd of him far o'er the wave : AVell paid were the mourners that wept o'er his grave. God plagued for his sake his people sore : — They sinn'd ; for the people should watch and pray That their prayers, like angels at window and door, May keep from the king the bad tliouglit away ! VI. The sun has risen : on lip and brow He greets me — I feel it — with golden wand. Ah, bright-faced Noma ! I see thee now ; "Where first I saw thee I see thie stand ! THE BARD ETHELL. 25 From the trellis the girl look'd down on me : Her maidens stood near : it Avas late in spring : The grey priests laugh'd as she cried in glee " Good bard, a song in my honour sing !" I sang her praise in a loud-voiced hymn To God who had fashion'd her, face and limb, For the praise of tlie clan and the land's behoof: So she flung me a flower from the trellis roof. Ere Ions I saw her the hill descending — O'er the lake the May morning rose moist and slow : She pray'd me (her smile with the sweet voice blending) To teach her all that a woman should know. Panting she stood : she was out of breath : The wave of her little breast was shaking : From eyes still childish and dark as death Came womanhood's dawn through a dew-cloud breaking. Noma was never long time the same: By a spirit so strong was her slight form moulded The curves swell'd out of the flower-like frame In joy ; in grief to a bud she folded : As she listen'd her eyes gi'cw bright and large Like springs rain-fed that dilate their marge. 2G INISFAIL. VII. So I taught her the hj-mn of Patrick the apostle, And the marvels of Bridget and Columkille : And ere long she sang like the lark or the throstle, Sang thedeeds of theservants of God's high will: I told her of Brendon who found afar Another world 'neath the western star ; Of our three great bishops in Lindisfarne isle ; Of St. Fursey the w^ond'rous. Fiacre without guile ; Of Sedulius, hymn-maker when hymns were rare ;* Of Scotus the subtle who clove a hair Into sixty parts, and had marge to spare. To her brother I spake of Oisin and Fionn, And they wept at the death of great Oisin's son.f * This Christian poet, whoso hymns are still used in the Oflfices of the Church, was an Irishman, and flourished in tlie fifth century. ■f The publications of the Ossianic Society have made us familiar with Fionn Mac Cumhal (the Fingal of McPherson) chief of the far-famed Irish militia, insti- tuted in the third century to protect the kingdom from foreign invasion. Its organization rendered it an array of extraordinary efliciency ; but existing as a separate power it became in time as formidable to the native sovereigns as to foreigners. The terrible battle of Gavra was its ruin. In it Oscar, the son of Oisin (or Ossian) and consequently the grandson of Fionn, fell in single combat with the Irish king Carbry, and nearly THE BARD ETHELL. 27 I taught the heart of the boy to revel In tales of old greatness that never tire, And the virgin's, up-springing from eartli's low level, To wed v>'ith heaven like the altar fire. I taught all that a woman should know : And that none might teach her worse lore I gave her A dagger keen, and I taught her the blow That subdues the knave to discreet behaviour. A sand-stone there on my knee she set, And shavpen'd its point — I can see her yet — • I held back her hair and she sharpen'd the edge Wliile the wind piped low through the reeds and sedge. VIII. She died in the convent on Ina's height : — I saw her the day that she took the veil : As slender she stood as the Paschal light, As tall and slender and bright and pale ! When I saw her I dropp'd as dead : bereaven Is earth when her holy ones leave her for heaven : Her brother fell in the fight at Beigh : May they plead for me, both, on my dying day ! his whole army perished with him, a.d. 284. To this day Fionn and Oisin are household names in those parts of western Ireland in which the traditional Gaelic poetry is recited. 28 INISFATL. IX. All praise to the man who brought us the Faith ! 'Tis a staff by day and our pillow in death ! All praise, I say, to the holy youth Who heard in a dream '^ fiom Tyrawley's strand That wail, '• put forth o'er the sea thy hand ; In the dark we die ; give us hope and truth !" But Patrick built not on lorras' shoi'e That convent where now the Franciscans dwell : Columba was mighty in prayer and war ; But the young monk preaches, as loud as the bell, That love must rule all and all wrongs be for- 'e" given, Or else, he is sure, we shall reach not heaven ! This doctrine I count right cruel and hard : And when I am laid in the old churchvard * Some time after St. Patrick, then about thirty years of age, had placed himself under the direction of St. Germain of Auxerre, he had a marvellous vision. " A man named Victoricius appeared to present hira " with a large parcel of letters, one of which was in- " scribed, ' the voice of the Irish ;' and while reading it " St. Patrick thought he heard the cries of a multitude " of people near the wood of Foclut, in the district now " called Tyrawley, in Mayo, saying, ' We entreat thee " to come, holy youth, and walk still among us.' " — Haverty's Hist, of Ireland, p. C4. THE BARD ETHELL. 29 The habit of Francis I will not wear ; Nor wear I his cord, or the cloth of hair I secret. Men dwindle : till psalm and prayer Had soften'd the land no Dane dwelt there ! X. I forgive old Cathbar who sank my boat : Must I pardon Feargal who slew my son ; — Or the pirate, Strongbow, who burn'd Granote, They tell me, and in it nine priests, a nun, And, worst, Saint Finian's old crosier staff ? At forgiveness like that I spit and laugh ! My chief, in his wine-cups, forgave twelve men ; And of these a dozen rebell'd again ! There never was chief more brave than he! The night he was born Loch Dool up -burst: He was bard-loving, gift-making, loud of glee, The last to fly, to advance the first. He was like the top spray upon Uladh's oak, He was like the tap-root of Argial's pine : He was secret and sudden : as lightning his stroke : There w-as none that could fathom his hid design ! He slept not : if any man scorn'd his alliance He struck the first blow for a frank defiance With that look in his face, half night half light, Like the lake gust-blacken 'd and ridged with white ! 30. INISFAIL. There were comely wonders before he died : The eagle swoop'd, and the Banshee cried ; The witch-elm wept with a blighted bud : The spray of the torrent was red with blood : The chief, return'd from the mountain's bound, Forgat to ask after Bran, his hound. We knew he would die : three days were o'er ; — He died. We xoakecl him for three days more. One by one, upon brow and breast The wliole clan kiss'd him. In peace may he rest. XI. I sang his dirge. I could sing that time Four thousand staves of ancestral rhyme : To-day I can scarcely sing the half: Of old I was corn and now I am chaff! • My song to-day is a breeze that shakes Feebly the down on the cygnet's breast : 'Twas then a billow the beach that rakes Or a storm that buffets the mountains' crest. Whatever 1 bit with a venomed song Gi'ew sick, were it beast, or tree, or man : The wrong'd one bade me avenge his wrong With the flail of the Satire and fierce Ode's fan. I sang to the chieftains : each stock I traced Lest right should grow tangled, through fraud or haste. THE BAUD ETIIELLi. 61 To princes I sang in a loftier tone Of Moran the Just who refused a throne ; Of Moran whose torque would close and choke The wry-neck'd witness that falsely spoke. I taught them how to win love and hate, Not love from all, and to shun debate. To maids in the bower I sang of love : And of war at the feastings in hall or grove. XII. Great is our Order ; but greater far Were its pomp and its power in the days of old, When the five Chief Bards in peace or war Had thirty bards each in his train enroU'd ; When Ollave Fodhla in Tara's hall Fed bards and kings : Avhen the boy, king Nial ^A'as train'd by Torna : when Britain and Gaul Their laurel crowns sent to Dalian Forgial. To-day we can launch the clans into fight : That day we could freeze them in mid career ! Whatever man knows, was our realm by right : The lore witliout music no Gael would hear. Old Cormac, tlie brave blind king, was bard Ere fame rose yet of O'Daly and Ward. The son of Milesius was bard — " Go back, " My People,"* he sang ; " ye have done a wrong ! * This is the earliest record of Ii'ish song. Its iru- 32 INiSFAIL. " Nine waves go back o'er the green sea track ; " Let your foes their castles and coasts make strong. " To tlic island ye came by stealth and at night: " She is ours if we' win her in all men's sight! " 'Tis past! some think that we err'd throuf^h pride, Though Colnmba the vengeance turned aside. Too strong we were not : too rich we were : Give wealth to knaves: — "tis the true man's snare! xin. But noAv men lie : they are just no moi'e : They forsake the old ways : they quest for new : They pry and they snuff after strange false lore As dogs hunt vermin. It never was true : I have scorn'd it for twenty years — this babble That eastward and southward a Saxon rabble Have won great battles, and rule large lands, And plight with daughters of ours their hands ! We know the bold Norman o'erset their throne Long since ! Our lands ! Let them guard their own! port has doubtless been faithfully preserved. It asserts those groat principles of Truth and Justice, upon which alone National greatness can be founded. THE BARD ETHELL. 33 XIV. How long He leaves me — the great God — here! Have I sinn'd some sin, or has God forgotten ? This year I think is my hundredth year : I am like a bad apple^ unripe yet rotten ! They shall lift me ere long, they shall lay me — the clan — By the strength of men on mount Cruachan ! God has much to think of I How much He has seen And how much is gone by that once has beenl On sandy hills where the rabbits burrow Are Raths of Kings men name not now : On mountain tops I have tracked the furrow And found in forests the buried plough. For one now living the strong land then Gave kindly food and raiment to ten. No doubt they wax'd proud and their God defied ; So their harvest He blighted or burned their hoard ; Or He sent them plague, or He sent the sword ; Or He sent them lightning ; and so they died Like Dathi, the king, on the dark Alp's side.* * Dathi the last King of Pagan Ireland, perished, A.D. 428, ou his march into Italy. 34 INISFAIL. XV. Ah me that man who is made of dust Should have pride toward God! 'Tis an angel's sin ! I have often fear'd lest God, the All-jnst, Should bend from heaven and sweep earth clean, Should sweep us all into corners and holes, Like dust of the house-floor, both bodies and souls ! I have often fear'd He would send some wind In wrath ; and the nation wake up stone-blind In age or in youth we have all wrought ill : I say not our great king Nial did well (Although he was Lord of the Pledges Nine) When, beside subduing this land of Eire, He raised in Armorica banner and sign, And wasted the British coast with lire. Pei-haps in his mercy the Lord will say, ' These men I God's help! 'Twas a rough boy "play!" He is certain — that young Franciscan Priest — God sees gi-eat sin where men see least : Yet this were to give unto God the eye (Unmeet the thought) of the humming fly ! I trust there are small things H^ scorns to see In the lowly who cry to Him piteously. THE BARC ETHELL. 35 Our hope is Christ. I have wept full oft He came not to Eire in Oisin's time ; Though love, and those new monks, would make men soft If they were not harden'd by war and rhyme. I have done my part : my end draws nigh : I shall leave old Eire with a smile and siah : She will miss not me as I miss'd my son : Yet for her, and her praise, were my best deeds done. Man's deeds ! man's deeds ! they are shades that fleet, Or ripples like those that break at my feet. The deeds of my Chief and the deeds of my King Grow hazy, farseen, like the hills in spring. Nothing is great save the death on the Cross ! But Pilate and Herod I hate, and know Had Fionn lived then he had laid tliem low Though the world thereby had sustain'd great loss. My blindness and deafness and aching back With meekness I bear for that suffering's sake ; And the Lent-fast for Mary's sake I love. And the honour of Him, the Man above ! My songs arc all over now : — so best ! They are laid in the heavenly Singer's breast Who never sings but a star is born : May we hear His song in the endless morn ! 36 INISFAIL. I give glory to God for our battles Avon By wood or river, on bay or creek : For Noma, who died ; for my father, Conn : For feasts, and the chase on the mountains bleak : I bewail my sins, both unknown and loiown, And of those I have injured forgiveness seek. The men that were wicked to me and mine ; — (Not quenching a wrong, nor in war nor wine) I forgive and absolve them all, save three : — May Christ in His mercy be kind to me ! ST. PATRICK AND THE BARD. A BARD SONG. A.D. 433. THE land is sad, and dark our days : Sing us a song of the days that were ! — Then sang the bard in his Order's praise This song of the chief bard of King Laeghaire. The King* is wroth with a greater wrath Than the wrath of Nial or the wrath of Conn ! * Laeghaire, King of all Ireland, was Jon of Nial of the Nine Hostages. ST. PATRICK AND THE BARD. 37 From his heart to his brow the blood makes path, And hangs there, a red cloud, beneath his crown. 11. Is there any who knows not, from south to north, That Laeghaire to-morrow his birthday keeps P No fire may be lit upon hill or hearth Till the King's strong fire in its kingly mirth Leaps upward from Tara's palace steeps I III. Yet Patrick has lighted his Paschal fire At Slane, — it is Holy Saturday, — And bless'd his font 'mid the chaunting choir ! From hill to hill the flame makes way : While the King looks on it his eyes with ire Flash red, like Mars, under tresses grey. IV The great King's captains with drawn swurds rose; To avenge their Lord with an oath they swore ; The Druids rose and their garments tore ; " The strangers to us and our gods are foes !" 38 INISFAIL. Then the King to Patrick a herald sent, Who said, " Come up at noon, and show " Who lit thy fire, and with wiiat intent ? — " These things the great King Laeghaire -would "know." V. ]iiit Laeghaire conceal'd twelve men in the way, Who swore by the sun the Saint to slay. VI, When the waters of Boyne began to bask, And the gi'cen meads flashed in the rising sun The Apostle Evangelist kept his Pasch, And Erin her grace baptismal won : Her birthday it was ; his font the rock He bless'd the land, and he bless'd his flock. VII. Then forth to Tara he fared full lowlv : The Staff of Jesus was in his hand ; Eight priests paced after him chaunling slowly. Printing their steps on the dewy land. It was the Resurrection morn ; The lark sang loud o'er the springing corn ; The dove was heard, and the hunter's horn. VIII. The murderers stood close by on the; way ; Yet they saw nought save the lambs at play. ST. PATRICK AND THE BARD. 39 IX. A trouble lurk'd in the King's strong eye When the guest that he counted for dead drew nigh. He sate in state at his palace gate ; His chiefs and his nobles were ranged around ; The Druids like ravens smelt some far fate ; Their eyes were gloomily bent on the ground. Then spake Laeghaire : "He comes — beware ! *' Let none salute him, or rise from his chair 1" X. Like some still vision men see by night, Mitred, with eyes of serene command. Saint Patrick moved onward in ghostly white • The staff of Jesus was in his hand. His priests paced after him unafraid, And the boy, Benignus, more like a maid ; Like a maid just wedded he walked and smiled, To Christ new-plighted, that priestly child. XI. They enter'd the circle ; their hymn they ceased ; The Druids their eyes bent earthward still : On Patrick's brow the glory increased, As a sunrise brightening some breathless hill. 40 IMSFAIL. The warriors sat silent : strange awe they felt ;- The Chief Bard, Dubtach, rose up, and knelt 1 XII. Then Patrick discoursed of the things to be "When time gives way to eternity, Of kingdoms that cease, Avhich are dreams not things, And the Kingdom built by the King of kings. Of Him he spake who reigns from the Cross; Of the death which is life, and the life which is loss; And how all things were made by the Infant Lord, And the small hand the Magian kings adored. Ilis voice sounded on like a throbbing flood That swells all night from some far-olF wood, And when it was ended — that wondrous strain — Invisible myriads breathed, "Amen!" XIll. While he spake, men say that the refluent tide On the shore beside Colpa ceased to sink ; And they say the white deer by IMulla's side O'er the green marge bending forebore to drink; That the Brandon ea^rle forgat to^soar : That no leaf stirr'd in the wood by Lee : ST. PATRICK AND THE BARD. 41 A trance there hung the island o'er, For none might guess what the end would be. XIV. Then whisper'd the king to a chief close by " It were better for me to believe than die !" XV. Yet the King believed not ;.but ordinance gave* That whoso would might believe that word : So the meek believed, and the wise, and brave, And Mary's Son as their God adored. Ethnea and Fethlimea, his daughters twain, That day were in baptism born again ; And the Druids, because they could answer nought, Bow'd down to the faith the stranger brought. * Very different was the recpption which tlio Saint mot from Aengus, King of ^lunstcr. lie invited St. Patrick to his royal seat at Cashel, and there received his instructions. At his baptism, as the King stood barefooted, "St. Patrick striking the end of his Episco- " pal staff, that was defended with a spike of iron, witii •* some vehemence, it pierced by chance through the foot "of the King, which put him into great disorder; but " notwithstanding the pain he suffered, and the abun- " dance of blood which flowed from Jiis wound, he had " that regard for the religion into which he was bap- " tized, that he would not stir from tlio place till the "solemnity of the office was finished," — Keatino's Hist, of Ireland, p. 357- Duffy, 18G1. 42 INISFAIL. That day upon Erin God pour'd His Spirit, — Yet none like the chief of the bards had merit, Dubtacli! — fie rose and believed the first, Ere the great light yet on the rest had burst. It was thus that Erin, then blind but strong, To Christ through her bard paid homage due ; And this was a sign that in Erin Song Should from first to last to the cross be true I A BARD SONG. r. TflWAS a holy time when the kings, long X foemcn,* Fought, side by side, to uplift the serf ; Never trimnph'd in old time Greek or Roman As Brian and Malachi at Clontarf. There was peace in Eire for long years after : * Malachi, who fought under th"; great Brian ]5oroimhe at Clontarf, where the Danish power in Ireland was overthrown for ever, had himself been King of all Ire- land, but allowed himself to be deposed, a.d. 10U3, and his rival to be elevated in his place. Siieh disinterestedness is perhaps the noblest form in whicfc true patriotism can shew itself. A BARD SONG. 43 Canute in England reign'd and Sweyn ; But Eire found rest, and the freeman's laughter Kang out the knell of the vanquished Dane. II. Praise to the king of ninety years Who rode round the battle-field, cross in handl But the blessing of Eire and grateful tears To the king who fought under Brian's com- mand ! A crown in heaven for the king who brake, To staunch old discords, his royal wand : 'Who spurned his throne for his people's sake, Who served a rival and saved the land ! 44 INISFAIL. KING LAEGIIAIRE A^B ST. PATRICK The following statement is extracted by Dr. Petrie n his History and Antiquities of Tara Hill, from tli( Annotations of the Life of St. Patrick, by Tirechan : — ' And Patrick repaired again to the City of Tara tf ' Laeghaire the son of Nial, because he (the King) hac • ratified a league with him that he should not be slair ' in his kingdom ;_but he could not believe, saying ' ' Nial, my father, did not permit me to believe, bui ' ' that I should be interred in the top of Tara, like mer ' ' standing up in war. For the Pagans are accustomec ' ' to be buried armed, with their weapons ready, face ' ' to face, to the Day of Erdathe, among the Magi, /. p. ' ' the Day of Judgment of the Lord.' " rpHUS sang to the princes the bard Maehnire ; -L But the princes received not the words he said : There was ever great feud and great hate in Eire Yet O'Donnell wept when O'Neill was dead. ' Thou son of Calphurn, in peace go forth ! " This hand shall slay thei^ whoe'er would slay thee I KING liAEGUAIUE AND ST. PATRICK. 45 '' The carles shall stand to their necks in earth, " Till they die of thirst, who mock or stay thee! II. "But my father, Nial, who is dead long since, " Permits not me to believe thy word ; '' For the servants of Jesus, thy heavenly Prince, " Once dead, lie flat as in sleep, interr'd ; " But Ave are as men through floods that wade ; — • " We stand in our black graves undismay'd ; " Our faces are turn'd to the race abhorr'd, " And ready beside us stand spear and sword, " Ready to strike at the last great day, " Ready to trample them back into clay. III. " This is my realm and men call it Eire, " Wherein I have lived and live in Bate " (Like Nial before me and Ere his sire) " Of the I'ace Lagenian, ill-named the Great!" IV. Thus spake Laeghaire, and his host rush'd on, A river of blood as yet unshed : — At noon they fought : and at set of sun That king lay captive, that host lay dead. 46 INISFAIL. V. The brave foe loosed him, but bade him swear He would never demand of them Tribute more : So Laeghaire by the dread God-elements swore, By the moon divine and the earth and air ; He swore by the wind and the broad sunshine That circle for ever both land and sea, By the long-back'd rivers, and mighty wine, By the cloud far-seeing, by herb and tree. By the boon spring shower, and by autumn's fan, By vv^oman's breast, and the head of man. By night and the noonday Demon he swore He would claim the Boarian Tribute no more. VI. But with years wrath wax'd ; and he brake his faith ; — Then the dread God-elements wrought his death ; For the wind and sunshine by Cassi's side Came down and smote on his head that he died. Death-sick three days on his throne he sate : Then he died, as his father died, great in hate. VII. They buried the king upon Tara's hill, In his grave upright ; — there stands he still : Upright there stands he as men that wade By night through a castle-moat undismay'd ; KING LAEGHAIRE AND ST. PATRICK. 47 On his head is the crown, the spear in his hand, And he looks to the hated Lagenian land. VIII. Patrick the Apostle, the son of Calphurn, Such Rites rebnkcd : — let them be no longer ! And Eire he commanded this song to learn, '' Though hate is strong yet love is stronger!" To the Gaels of Eire he gave a Creed : He bade them not fear Fate, Demon, or Faery ; But to fast in Lent, and by no black deed To insult God's Son, and his mother, Mary. Thus sang to the princes the bard Muelraire : — Oh ! when will it leave me, that widows' wail ? There is fire in my heart ; but a fiercer fire Went up from thy roofs and thy woods, Imayle 1 48 INISFAIL, PATRICK AND THE KNIGHT; OR, THE INAUGURATION OF IRISH CHIVALRY. I. *' npHOU shalt not be a priest," he said ;* X " Clirist hath for thee a lowlier task : " Be thou His soldier ! Wear with dread " His cross upon thy shield and casque ! " Put on God's armour, faithful knight ! " Mercy Avith justice, love Avith law ; ^" Nor e'er except for truth and right " This sword cross-hilted dare to draw." n. He spake, and with his crosier pointed Graved on the broad shield's brazen boss (That hour baptized, confirmed, anointed Stood Erin's chivalry) the Cross : * Conall Creevan, a brother of Laeghaire, King of Ire- land, was one of St. Patrick's earliest converts. He asked permission to become a Priest, but tbe Saint commanded him to remain a soldier. The shield marked with the sign of the Cross was ever after called " Sciath- Bachlach," or the Shield of the Crosier. This is stated by Dr. O 'Donovan to be the earliesj authentic notice found of armorial bearings in Ireland. THE BIER THAT CONQUERED. 49 And there was heard a whisper low — Saint Michael svas that whisper thine ? "Thou Sword, keep pnre tliy virgin vow, " And trenchant shalt thou be as mine." THE BIER THAT CONQUERED; OR, o'donnell's answer. A.D. 1357. Maurice Fitz Gerald, Lord Justice, marched to tlie north-west, and a furious battle w as fought between hiiu and Godfrey O'Dounoll, Prince of Tirconnell, at Cread- ran-Killa, north of Sligo, a.d. 1237. The two leaders met in single combat and severely wounded each other- It. was of the wound he then received that O'Donnell died, after triumphantly defeating his great rival in Ulster, O'Neill. The latter, hearing that O'Donnell was dying, demanded hostages from the Kitiel Connell. The messengers who brought this inso- lent message fled in terror the moment they had deli- vered it ; — and the answer to it was brought by O'Don- nell on his bier. Maurice Fitz Gerald finally retired to the Franciscan monastery, which he had founded ;it Youghal, and died peacefully in the habit of that order. LAND which the Norman would make his own I (Thus sang the Bard 'mid a host o'erlhroun) "While their wliite cheeks some on the clench'd hand propp'd, 50 INISFAIL. And from some the life-blood scarce heeded dropp'd, There are men in thee that refuse to die, And that scorn to live, while a foe stands nigh ! I. O'Donnell lay sick with a grievous wound : The leech had left him ; the priest had come ; TIic clan sat weeping upon the ground, Their banners furl'd, and their minstrels dumb. ir. Then spake O'Donnell, the king : " Although " My hour draws nigh, and my dolours grow ; " And although my sins I have now confess'd, " And desire in the land, my charge, to rest, '' Yet leave this realm, nor will I nor can, " While a stranger treads on her, child or man. III. '' I will languish no longer a sick man here : '' lily bed is grievous ; build up my Bier. " The white robe a king wears over me throw ; " Bear me forth to the field where he camps — '' your foe, "With the yellow torches and dirges low. " The heralds his challenge havc^bruught and fled ; '' The answer they bore not I bear instead. THE BIER THAT CONQUERED. 51 " My people shall figlit my pain in sight, '' And I shall sleep well when their wrong stands " right." IV Then the clan to the words of their Chief gave ear, And they fell'd great oak-trees and built a bier ; Its plumes from the eagle's wing were shed, And the wine-black samite above it they spread Inwoven with sad emblems and texts divine, And tlie braided bud of Tirconnell's pine, And all that is meet for the great and brave When past are the measured years God gave, And a voice cries " Come" from the waiting grave. V, When the Bier Avas ready they laid him thereon ; And the army forth bare him with wail and moan : With wail by the sea-lakes and rock abysses ; With moan through the vapour-trail'd wilder- nesses ; And men sore wounded themselves drew nigh And said, '' We will go with our king and die ;" And women wept as the pomp pass'd by. The yellow torches far off were seen ; No war-note peal'd through the gorges green ; But the black pines echo'd the mourners' keen. 52 INISFAIL. VI. What said the Invader, that pomp in sight ? " They sue for the pity they shall not win." But the sick king sat on the Bier upright, And said, " So welll I shall sleep to-night : — " Rest here my couch, and my peace begin." vir. Then the war-cry sounded — " Lamb-dearg A-boo 1" And the Avhole clan rush'd to the battle plain : They were thrice driven back, but tliey closed anew That an end might come to their king's great pain. 'Twas a nation not army that onward rush'd, 'Twas a nation's blood from their wounds that gush'd : Bare-bosom'd they fought, and with joy were slain ; Till evening tlieir blood fell fast like rain ; But a shout swcll'd up o'er the setting sun, And O'Donnell died for the field was won. So they buried their king upon Aileach's shore ; And in peace he slept ; — O'Donnell More. PECCATUM PECCAVIT. 53 PECCATUM PECCAVIT. "T]|7HERE is tby brother ? Heremon, speak ! f T Heber the son of Milesius, where ? Tlie orphans' wail and their mother's shriek For ever they ring upon Banba's air ! And whose, O whose was the sword, Heremon, That smote Amergin, thy brother and bard? 'Twas the Fate of thy house or a mocking Demon That raised thy hand o'er his forehead scavr'd! u. Woe, woe to Banba ! That blood of brothers Wells up from her bosom renewed each year ; 'Twas her's the shriek — that desolate mother's : — 'Twas Banba wept o'er that first red bier! The priest has warn'd, and the bard lamented : But warning and wailing her sons despised ; The head was sage, and the heart half-painte