F 
 
 ^
 
 •
 
 Ex Libris 
 
 C. K. OGDEN 
 THE 
 
 POEMS 
 
 THOMAS DAY IS. 
 
 NOW FIRST COLLECTED. 
 
 asaiti; iSotes anto l^iatoiical fiUustraUons. 
 
 Thy striving, be it with Loving; 
 iliy living, be it iJx Peed. 
 
 Ooetne. 
 
 DUBLIN : 
 
 PUBLISHTED BY JAMES DUFFY, 
 
 7 , WELLINGTON-QUAY. 
 
 LONDON: SIMPKIN, MARSHALL AND CO., 
 STATIONERS' HALL COURT. 
 
 1853.
 
 Brief, brave and glorious, was hl3 young career, 
 His mourners were two hosts, liis iriends and toes; 
 
 For he was Freedom's champion, one of tliose, 
 The few in number, who had uot oiitstept 
 
 The charter to chastise which she bestows 
 On such as wield lier weapons. He had kept 
 
 Tile whiteness of hw soul, and thus men o'er him wept. 
 
 DUBLIN : 
 
 Pattison Jolly, Printer^ 
 
 12, Anffksea Street.
 
 PR 
 
 is 25 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALTFORNIi 
 
 SANTA BAEBARA 
 
 ABYEIITISEMENT. 
 
 I HAVE spared no pains to make this volume as correct 
 and complete as a first edition can be expected to be. 
 But there were obstacles in the way, which no solici- 
 tude on ray part could overcome. The reader will bear 
 in mind, that one half of these poems were never col- 
 lected during the author's lifetime, and that many of 
 them had never received the slightest revision since their 
 first appearance in the columns of a weekly journal. 
 Thrown off too, during the brief intervals- of leisure, 
 which his multifarious pursuits aObrdod, tliey could 
 seldom have obtained that complete finish which would 
 have precluded the necessity of their revision. 
 
 The classification and order under which they appear 
 is altogether the work of the Editor. It has been his 
 aim to group them in such a manner as by contrast or 
 sequency, to make them throw light upon each other, and 
 produce their full efiect. The passages from Mr. Davis's 
 prose writings have been inserted with the same view. 
 
 A partial attempt has been made in a few of the ballads, 
 to restore the Irish names of places and persons to their 
 correct forms. But from the opposite character of the 
 two languages, many difficulties arose, and the altera-
 
 iV ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 tions have been confined to a few of the Ballads in Part 
 III. Mr. Davis was a warm advocate of the restoration of 
 the Irish forms, where practicable, and he was constantly 
 making experiments to that end. Instances of the length 
 to which he carried this, may be found in the 4to Spirit 
 of the Nation. But he had the right to take any liber- 
 ties he pleased with his own verses, and where he spoiled, 
 could alter and amend. But the Editor could not ven- 
 ture to tamper to any such extent with the harmony and 
 integrity of the poems contided to him. Accordingly, the 
 reformation of the spelling of Irish names and places has 
 been contined to a few of the earlier Historical Ballads, 
 where these purely Irish forms seemed more in keeping 
 with the subject and the scene. 
 
 The Glossary of these phrases, which was promised, 
 and which is o'ccasionally referred to m the notes, is un- 
 avoidably postponed until the next edition. 
 
 As Mr. Davis contributed largely to the Spirit of the 
 Nation, and to the Uallad Poetry of Ireland, it is neces- 
 sary to state here, that there are more than Thirty 
 Poems in this volume, which have not been included in 
 any previous eeilecliaa. 
 
 T, W.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAOB 
 
 INTRODUCTION, BY THE EDITOR - - - ix 
 
 PART I.— NATIONAL BALLADS AND SONGS. 
 
 TIPPEUARY . . - - 3 
 
 THE RIVERS - - . -5 
 
 GLENGARIFF - - » -J 
 
 THE west's ASLEEP - - - 9 
 
 OH 1 FOR A STEED - - - - 11 
 
 CYMRIC RULE AND CYMRIC RULERS - - 14 
 
 A BALLAD OF FREEDOM - - - 16 
 
 THE IRISH HURRAH . . - '20 
 
 A SONG FOR THE IRISH MILITIA - • 21 
 
 OUR OWN AGAIN - . - 24 
 
 CELTS AND SAXONS - - 27 
 
 ORANGE AND GREEN - - - 30 
 
 PART IL— MISCELLANEOUS SONGS AND CALLA;>S. 
 
 THE LOST PATH - . . - 35 
 
 love's LONGINGS - - . - 36 
 
 HOPE deferred - - - - 38 
 
 eibhlin a ruin - - . - 39 
 
 the banks of the lee - . . 41 
 
 the girl of dunbwy - - - 42 
 
 duty and love - - . - 44 
 
 annie dear - - - - 45 
 
 blind mary - - - - 47 
 
 the bride of mallow - - • 48 
 a2
 
 Tl CONTENTS. 
 
 I'Aoa 
 
 THK WELCOME ~ - - "50 
 
 THK MI-NA-MEALA - - - - 52 
 
 MAIRK EHAN A STOIR - - - 54 
 
 OH ! THE MARRIACB - - - 56 
 
 A FLEA FOR LOVE - - - - 58 
 
 THE bishop's DAUGHTER - - - 59 
 
 THE BOATMAN OF KINSALE - - - 60 
 
 MY DARLING NELL - - - 62 
 
 LOVE CHAUNT •• - - - G3 
 
 A CHRISTMAS SCENE - - - 64 
 
 THE INVOCATION - - - - 66 
 
 LOVE AND WAR - o - - 68 
 
 MY LAND - - - - 69 
 
 THE RIGHT ROAD - - . - 70 
 
 PART .III.— HISTORICAL BALLADS AND SONGS. 
 
 JFtrst Series. 
 
 A NATION ONCE AGAIN - - - 73 
 
 LAMENT FOR THE MILESIANS - - 75 
 
 THE FATE OF KING DATIII - - -11 
 
 ARGAN BIOR - - - - 82 
 
 THE victor's BURIAL - - - 84 
 
 THE TRUE IRISH KING - - - 85 
 
 the ceraldines - - - - 89 
 
 o'brien of ara - - . - 95 
 
 emmeline talbot - - - 98 
 
 o'sullivan's return - - - 104 
 
 the fate of the o'sullivans - - 1c8 
 
 the sack of baltimore - - - 115 
 
 LAMENT FOR THE DEATH OF OWEN ROE o'nEILL 119 
 
 A RALLY FOR IRELAND - - -122 
 
 THE BATTLE OF LIMERICK ... ]25
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAKT 1\ —HISTORICAL BALLADS AND SONGS. 
 
 Sjconti Scries. 
 
 PAGB 
 
 the penal days - - . - 131 
 
 the death of sarsfield - - . 133 
 
 the surprise of cremona - - 135 
 
 the flower of finae ... 138 
 
 the girl i left behind me " - 140 
 
 glare's dragoons - - - 142 
 
 when south winds blow .... 145 
 
 the battle-eve of the brigade - - 147 
 
 fontenoy .... 149 
 
 the dungannon convention - - 153 
 
 song of the volunteers of 1782 - . 156 
 
 THE MEN OF 'eIGHTY-TWO - - . 158 
 
 NATIVE SWORDS .... 160 
 
 tone's GRAVE - - - - 162 
 
 PART v.— MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 NATIONALITY - - - -167 
 
 SELF-RELIANCE ... - 1(}9 
 
 SWEET AND SAD - - - - 171. 
 
 THE BURIAL ... 174 
 
 WE MUST NOT FAIL ... 178 
 
 o'cONNELL'S STATUE - . ^ 180 
 
 THE GREEN ABOVE THE RED - - 184 
 
 THE VOW OF TIPPERARY ... 187 
 
 A PLEA FOR THE BOG-TROTTERS . - 188 
 
 A SECOND PLEA FOR THE BOG-TROTTERS - 189 
 
 A SCENE IN THE SOUTH - . - 191 
 
 WILLIAM TELL .... 194 
 
 THE EXILE . - - - 196 
 
 MY HOME ..... 198 
 
 MY GRAVE .... 203 
 
 APPENDIX .... 207
 
 Tlie sun set; but set not his hop«: 
 Stars rose ; his faith wns earlier up: 
 Fixed on the enormous galaxy, 
 Deeper and older seemed his eye: 
 And matclied his sufferance sublime 
 Tlie taciturnity of time. 
 He spoke, and words more soft than rain 
 Brouglit the Age of Gold again: 
 His arlitjn won such reverence sweet. 
 As L>d all measure of tlio lent.
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 BY THE EDITOR. 
 
 It is my sincere belief, that no book lias ever been pub- 
 lished, of more immediate and permanent interest to the 
 Irish People, than tliis little volume of the Poems of 
 Thomas Davis. 
 
 The momentary grief of tlie people for his loss was 
 loud and ardent enough. I have heard some touching 
 instances of tlie intensity with which it manifested itself 
 in thousands, who had never seen his face, or heard his 
 voice, — to whom, indeed, his very name and being were 
 unknown, until the tidings of his death awoke in them 
 the vain regret that they had not earlier known and 
 honoured the good great man who worked unseen 
 among them. 
 
 But, alas 1 regrets of this description are in their very 
 nature transient ; and all ranks of tlie people have much 
 to learn before they can rightly appreciate what a trea- 
 sure of hope and energjs of life and love, of greatness and 
 glory for liimself and tliem, lies buried in that untimely 
 grave. 
 
 ▲ 3
 
 X INTRODUCTION. 
 
 It has been the peculiar destiny of this Nation of Sor- 
 rows, to lose by unseasonable death, at the very crisis of 
 her peril, the only men who were endowed with the 
 genius and energy to guide her unharmed through the 
 strife. Too seldom have Ireland's champions lived to 
 reap the mature fruit of their toil. Too seldom hath 
 the calm evening of existence, o'ercanopied by victory, 
 and smiled on by such parting twilight as promises a 
 brighter morrow, heralded for them that glad repose, 
 which they only know who have laboured and seen their 
 labour blessed. Tlie insidious angel of Death has pre- 
 ferred to take our chieftains unprepared in their noon of 
 manhood,— too often before that noon arrived, stabbing 
 them stealthily in their tents, as they donned their ar- 
 mour, at the dawn of some great day, or mused upon 
 the event of that encounter, which they had bent every 
 energy to meet, and yet were doomed never to see. 
 
 Long centuries hath the hand of God, for inscrutable 
 causes, been very lieavy on Ireland ; and this alacrity of 
 Death is the fetter-key of his wrath. May this last 
 offering of our first-born propitiate him, and may the 
 kingly souls whom hereafter He may send among us to 
 rule and guide our people, no more be prematurely sum- 
 moned away, in the very dawn of their glory, with their 
 hopes unrealized, and their mission unfulfilled. 
 
 Fortunately, Davis was not a statesman and political 
 leader merely, but a thinker and a writer too, — more 
 than that, a genuine poet ; as, I trust, all who peruse 
 this little book will acknowledge. True, it is a mere 
 garland of blossoms, whose fruit was doomed never to 
 ripen ; a reliquaiy of undeveloped genius, but recently 
 awakened to a consciousness of its own power.
 
 INTRODUCTION. XI 
 
 The ambition, the activity, and above all, the over- 
 weening confidence of most young men of genius, se- 
 cures for them a spontaneous discipline in those pursuits 
 for which they are specially adapted. Goetlie and Schil- 
 ler, Burns and Byron, Wordsworth and Coleridge, too 
 young as most of them were, when they commenced a 
 career of authorship, had written verses for years before 
 they became known to the public. Many are the re- 
 counted instances of precocious poetic power, both in 
 those, who afterwards became reno^vned as poets, and 
 in men destined to shine in far other pursuits, the first 
 exercise of whose intellectual energy has taken this di- 
 rection. Even men who, like Cowper and Alfieri, have 
 burst the shell of seclusion at comparatively a late pe- 
 riod of life, have betrayed in their boyish tastes or 
 habits, the peculiar bent of their genius. However way- 
 wardness or timidity may have retarded the public pro- 
 fession of their art, they had yet some forecast of their 
 destiny. They knew they had wings, and fluttered 
 them, though they had not yet strength to fly. 
 
 The case of Davis is diflerent, and altogether so pe- 
 culiar, that it ought not to be passed over in the very 
 briefest introduction to his poetical remains. Until 
 about three years before his death, as I am assured, he 
 had never written a line of poetry. His efforts to ac- 
 quire knowledge, to make himself useful, and to find a 
 suitable sphere of action, were incessant ; but they tried 
 every path, and look every direction but this. The 
 warmth of his affections, and his intense enjoyment of 
 the beauties of nature and character, of literature and 
 art, ought early to have marked liim out as one destined 
 to soar and sing, as well as to think and act. But tliC
 
 XU INTRODUCTION. 
 
 fact is, that among his j'outhful cotemporariea, for many 
 a long year, he got as little credit for any promise this 
 way, as he did for any other remarkable quahties, be- 
 yond extreme goodnature, mitiring industry, and very 
 varied learning. 
 
 Truth to say, much of this early misconception of 
 his character was Davis's own fault. He learned much ; 
 suffered much, I have no doubt : felt and sympathised 
 much ; and hoped and enjoyed abundantly ; but he had 
 not yet learned to rely on himself. His powers were like 
 the nucleus of an embryo star, uncompressed, unpurified, 
 flickering and indistinct. He carried about with him 
 huge loads of what other men, most of them statists 
 and logicians, had thought proper to assert ; but what 
 he thouglit and felt himself, he did not think of putting 
 forward. The result was, that during his college course, 
 and for some years after, while he was very generally 
 liked, he had, unless perhaps with some who knew him 
 intimately, but a moderate reputation for high ability of 
 any kind. In his twenty-fifth year, as I remember — 
 that is, in the spring of 1839, — he first began to break 
 out of this. His opinions began to have weight, and 
 his character and influence to unfold themselves in a 
 variety of ways. In tlie following year he entered poli- 
 tical life. But tills is not tlie place to recount the details 
 of his subsequent career. 
 
 The outbreak of his poetical power began in this 
 wise. In the autunm of 1842, taking an active part iii 
 the establishment of a new popular journal, (the Nation, ) 
 whicli was intended to advance the cause of Nationality 
 by all the aids, which literary as well as political talent 
 could bring to its advocacy, Davis, and the friends asso-
 
 INTRODUCTION. XIU 
 
 ciated with him, found that while their corps in other 
 respects was sufficiently complete, they had but scanty 
 promise of support in the poetical department. The 
 well-known sOiying of Fletcher of Saltoun, — " Give me 
 the ballads, and let who will make the laws," — had sunk 
 deeply into the minds of some of the projectors of the 
 journal : though I am told that Davis himself was at 
 first not very solicitous on this point ; so little aware was 
 he of his own power in that respect, at the moment it 
 was about to break forth. But the Editor of the 
 journal had set his heart on it, having before partially 
 tried the experiment in a Northern paper. Ultimately, 
 however, all the founders of the Nation agreed in the 
 resolve, that come whence it would, poetry, — real living 
 poetry, gusliing Avarm from the heart, and not mecha- 
 nically mimicing obsolete and ungenial forms, — was 
 worth a trial, as a fosterer of National feeling, and an 
 excitement to National hope. But it came not from any 
 outward source ; aJid thereupon Davis and his com- 
 panions resolved, in default of other aid, to write the 
 poetry themselves. They did so ; they surprised them- 
 selves and every body else. The results of that de- 
 spairing attempt have since been made known, and ap- 
 plauded in every quarter of the globe. The right chord 
 had been struck, and the consequent stimulus to Irish 
 literature has been, and is, incalculable. 
 
 The rapidity and thi-illing power, with Avhich, from 
 the time that he got full access to the public ear, Davis 
 developed his energies as statesman, political writer, 
 and poet, has been well described elsewhere. It excited 
 the surprise and admiration even of those who knew him 
 best, and won the respect of numbers, who from poll-
 
 XIV INTRODUCTION. 
 
 tical or personal prejudices, had been originally most 
 unwilling to admit his worth. So signal a victory over 
 long-continued neglect and obstinate prejudice as he had 
 at length obtained, has never come under my observa- 
 tion, and I believe it to be almost unexampled. There 
 is no assurance of greatness so unmistakeable as this. 
 No power is so overwhelming, no energy so untiring, no 
 enthusiasm so indomitable, as that which slumbers for 
 years, unconscious and unsuspected, until the character 
 is completely formed, and then bursts at once into light 
 and life, when the time for action is come. 
 
 This was the true guarantee of Davis's greatness, — of 
 a genius which was equal to any emergency, which 
 would have been constantly i^lacing itself in new aspects, 
 overcoming new difficulties, and winning fresh love and 
 honour from his countrymen, and from mankind. A 
 character so rich in promise, so full of life and energy, 
 of love and hope, as his, and at the same time so suited 
 for public life, is a raritj' in history. Had he been spared 
 for a few j'^ears longer, the world would have known this 
 well. As it is, they must partly take it on trust from 
 those who knew the man. For none of his Avritings, 
 either in prose or verse, will enable them to know him 
 thoroughly. As, indeed, the richer and deeper, and 
 more vital and versatile a man's character is, the poorer 
 fragment of himself will his writings inevitably be. 
 
 Not, but that everything Davis has written, abounds 
 in admonition and instruction, for Irishmen of every 
 class, and for all in any country who have the sym- 
 pathies and affections of men. But from the activity 
 of liis public life, it was impossible that he could write 
 with that leisure and deliberate care, which the heart
 
 INTRODUCTION. XT 
 
 and intellect require for finished composition . And ac- 
 cordingly, none of his ■works can be taken as an adequate 
 expression of his creative power. Had he lived, and been 
 enabled to shift a portion of his political burden upon 
 other shoulders, I have no doubt but he would have 
 more frequently retired into himself, and thus been 
 enabled to give the world the purer fruits of liis unen- 
 cumbered leisure. But the weight of his toil cut liim off 
 before that leisure came. 
 
 If anywhere, it is in this volume, that a key to Davis's 
 most engaging qualities, and to his inward heart, may 
 be found. But there is not room here, and I must 
 await some other opportunity of weighing the merits of 
 these poems, in relation to their author's character, and to 
 the wants of the time and country for Mdiich they were 
 written. It may, at all events, be better done when his 
 prose works also have been given to the public, and the 
 elite of the labours of liis young statesmanship made 
 permanently and universally accessible. For literary 
 pre-eminence was not his ambition at all, and even use- 
 fulness through the channels of literature, but one of the 
 many means which he shaped to one great end. 
 
 For these and other reasons, apart from his want of 
 leisure, and his early death, his poems above all must 
 not be judged without a reference to his aims and his 
 mode of life. I do not believe that since the invention 
 of printing, there has been any volume of such sincere 
 effect, and varied power, produced imder similar cir- 
 cumstances. The longer portion and by far the best of 
 them were written and published in a single year (1844), 
 and that tlie most active of the author's life, during 
 which his political labours, in addition to constant
 
 XVI INTRODUCTION. 
 
 writing fur the journa,! M-itli which he was cornectcd, 
 were ahnost as incessant and fatiguing as those of a 
 minister of state. 
 
 In these and in some not dissimilar instances whicli I 
 could recount of others, there seems good reason to hope 
 for our country and our age. Novalis used to lament 
 bitterly the severance of poetry from philosophy, and 
 surely not without abundant cause ; but with far better 
 reason might he have bemoaned the divorce of poetry 
 from life and action. For in no respect is there a greater 
 contrast between these latter formalized ages, and the 
 wilder, healthier centuries of the world's antique life. 
 Solon was a poet, as well as a statesman and sage. 
 Sophocles was not only an unrivalled dramatist, but a 
 distinguished soldier, and in youth a miracle of beauty 
 and accomplishments, — the Sidney as well as the 
 Shakspeare of that glorious age. Pericles and Caesar 
 were orators, pliilosophers, soldiers, wits, poets, and 
 consummate statesmen, aU in one. Descending to a 
 later age, entirely diiferent in character and aims, we 
 find Alfred teaching his people as well as ruling them. 
 Richard Coeur-de-lion was hardly less renowned for 
 poetry than for courage. Bertrand de Born was warrior 
 and patriot, poet and statesman, and it was not found 
 that his success in one pursuit was marred or defeated 
 by his proficiency in another. Among the Moslem 
 cotemporaries of all these men, abundant examples 
 might be adduced of such a combination of political 
 with poetical power. And recurring to the early 
 dwellers in the East, above all to those whom a peculiar 
 dispensation set apart from other men, Moses and David 
 were poets, as well as prophets and kings.
 
 INTRODUCTIOM. Xvil 
 
 For such is the natural condition of Ijealth, in nations 
 as in men. The mind and the body alike are agile for a 
 thousand feats, and equal to a thousand labours. For 
 literature is then a part of life, a dweller in the common 
 landscape, a presence in sunshine and in shade, in camp 
 and festival, before the altar and beside the hearth, — 
 and not an intruding reminiscence, an antiquated 
 mockery, a ghastly effete excrescence, hiding witli its 
 bloated bulk the worth of the present hour, and the 
 lovely opportunities of unused actual Ufe, that ever lie 
 with mute appeal before the dullard man ; and which 
 he alone who feels the force of, can enter into the feel- 
 ings or appreciate the worth of bye-gone generations 
 too. 
 
 It is only the insidious materialism of modern existence, 
 that has rent the finest tissues of moral power, and 
 dwarfed into mechanical routine and huxtering sub- 
 serviency, the interchanging faculties of man, making 
 literature itself a statute-book, or a gin-shop, instead of 
 an overhanging canopy of the simple and sublime, a 
 fostering, embracing atmosphere to man's ever}' thought 
 and act. And thus it is that poets and philosophers, — . 
 that is, men of purer, deeper, more genial and generative 
 faculty than others, — find all the avenues to power barred 
 against them by lawyers and diplomatists, and are driven 
 to suck their thumbs in corners, when they ought, by 
 virtue of the fiercer life and more powerful reason that 
 is in them, to be teaching the world by example as well 
 as precep' ; and not by words alone, but by action too, 
 by the communities of peril, and the interchange of 
 gympathy, and love, to be filling the souls of men vrith 
 hope and resolution, with piety and truth.
 
 XVlll INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Here, at least, in this little book, is a precedent and 
 admonition to the lionest man-of-letters of whatevet 
 class or country — that if his feeling for his fellow-men — 
 and who will feel for them, if he does not? — should lead 
 him into political action, he need not despond because 
 he is a poet, if only he is, into the bargain, a self-reliant 
 man. Davis was a poet, but he was not for that the 
 less practical in public life, nor did the most prosaic of 
 his opponents ever object to him, that he was the less 
 fitted to advise and govern, because he occasionally ex- 
 pressed in verse the purer aspirations of his soul. 
 
 Pity it is, to be sure, that these aspirations had not 
 found a fuller utterance, before the fiat of death had 
 hushed to unseasonable rest the throbbings of that large 
 heart. Fragments though they be of a most capacious 
 and diversified character, they are yet to a wonderful 
 degree its unaffected utterance. Like wild flowers 
 springing from the mould in the clefts of a giant oak, 
 they relish of the open air, and have looked the sky in 
 the face. Doubtless in many ways the impress of the 
 poet's spirit, and of the graces of his character, is but the 
 purer for this partial and too late development of its love- 
 liest folds. Like the first fragrance of the rose, ere its per- 
 fume becomes heavy with sweetness ; or as the violet 
 smells the sweetest, when hidden by its cherishing leaves 
 from the glare of the noonday sun. 
 
 Moreover, the supreme worth of books is as an index 
 of character ; as a fragmentary insight into unfathomed 
 worth and power. For the man who is not better then 
 his books, has ever seemed to me a poor creature — 
 Many there are, no doubt, — men whose names are high 
 in literature — who fail to produce on their cotempora-
 
 INTRODUCTION. XIX 
 
 ties or on those who know their biography, an impres- 
 sion adeciuate to the promise of their writings — and 
 some, perhaps, wlio really have no corresponding inward 
 worth. Allowing for the too ardent expectations of 
 their admirers, this indicates ever some lamentable de- 
 ficiency. One cannot help occasionally, in moments of 
 ill humour, suspecting some of these authors to be paltry 
 secondhand thieves of other men's thoughts, or mimics 
 of other men's energy, and not as all good writers ought 
 to be, natural, self-taught, self-directed men. And, 
 therefore, in honest writing, above all things, is it true, 
 that "well begun, is half done;" be it but once well 
 begun. Goldsmith's lovely nature is as visible, and 
 more distinct in the little volume of the Vicar of Wake- 
 field, than if he had written a dozen Waverley novels ; Ro- 
 samund Gray, and Undine are a purer offspring of their 
 author's minds, and a more convincing evidence of 
 their worth, then any congeries of romances could have 
 been. 
 
 And thus, perhaps, after all, the soul of Davis will 
 shine from this book, as pure and clear, — though not 
 so bright, or comprehensive, or beneficent, — as if he 
 had been thirty years writing instead of three, and filled 
 a dozen of volumes instead of one. Ah! as far as writing 
 goes, there is enough to make men love liim, and guess 
 at him, — and what more can the best of readers do with 
 the supremest writer, though he lived to the age of 
 Sophocles or Goethe. The true loss is of the oak's tim- 
 ber, the living tree itself, and not of its acorns or of the 
 flowers at its base. The loss of his immediate influence 
 on the events of his time, and on the souls of his cotem- 
 poraries by guidance and example, — that is the true
 
 3CX INTRODUCTION. 
 
 bereavement ; one which possibly many generations to 
 come will be suffering from and expiating, consciously 
 or unconsciously. So complete an endowment as his is 
 a rare phenomenon, and no calamity can be compared 
 with its untimely extinction. 
 
 Undoubtedly the circumstances which attended the 
 development of Davis's powers, are a striking proof 
 of the latent energy, whicli lies hid among our people, 
 unwrought and almost unthought of. Not that I enter- 
 tain the opinion, though it is a favourite theory with 
 some men, — and one which does not obtain tlie less ac- 
 ceptance because it flatters human nature, — that there 
 is an abundance of great men, ever walking the earth, 
 utterly unconscious of their power, and only wanting a ' 
 sufBcient stimulus, themselves to know their power, and 
 make all men acknowledge it. A theory of life and 
 history, in any high sense of greatness, to which I can- 
 not assent ; for it seems to me the very essence of the 
 great man is, that he is, in spite of himself, making ever 
 aew acquaintance witli the realities of life. All animate 
 and inanimate nature is in a conspiracy to make him 
 know himself, or at least to make others know him, and 
 by their love or hate, their fear or reverence, to awaken 
 his slumbering might. Destiny has a thousand electric 
 shocks in store for him, to which unearnest men are in- 
 sensible ; while his own unhasting yet unresting spirit is 
 ever fathoming new depths in the infinites of thought, 
 and suffering, and love. For, as the wisest of the an- 
 cients told the clods who condemned him, — the great 
 man is not born of a stock or a stone ; but nature'3 
 wants are strong in him, and the ties of heart and home 
 are as dear, or dearer to him than to any. And home
 
 1NTROI>0CTION. XXI 
 
 is the great teacher, in childhood by its joys, in man. 
 hood by its sorrows, in age by its ebbing regrets. 
 
 No matter, then, whetlier thought or passion have the 
 mastery in the great man's nature, no matter whether 
 action or reception preponderates in his life, if he be 
 truly great, and live through man's estate, he wiU in 
 some way be recognised. Strange it were indeed, if every 
 other element in nature — the paltriest grain of sand, or 
 the most fleeting wave of light — were perpetual and un- 
 limited in its influence, and the mightiest power of allj 
 the plenitude of spiritual life, could remain unfelt by 
 kindred spirit, for the natural life of man. True, the 
 great man will often shvm society, and court obscurity 
 and solitude : but let him withdraw into himself ever 
 60 much, his soul will only expand the more with thought 
 and passion. The mystery of life will be the greater to 
 him, the more time he has to study it ; the loveliness of 
 nature will be the sweeter to him, the less his converse 
 with her is disturbed by the thoughtless comment of the 
 worldly or the vain. Let him retire into utter solitude, 
 and even if he were not great, that solitude, — if nature 
 wluspers to him, and he listens to her, — would go near 
 to make him so : as Selkirk, when after his four years' 
 solitude, he trod again the streets of London, looked for 
 a while a king, and talked like a philosopher. For a 
 while, — since, as Richard Steele ably tells the story, in 
 six months or so, the royalty had faded from his face, 
 and he had grown again, what he was at first, a sturdy 
 but common-place sailor. 
 
 But nature herself haunts incessantly the really great 
 man, and nothing can vulgarize him. And if it were only 
 on that account alone, whether tested by action, or un- 
 b
 
 XXH IKXaODCCTIOK. 
 
 tested by it, the great man is sure of recognition, if allowed 
 to live out his life. If he act, his acts will shew hku ; and 
 even if he do not act, his thoughts or his goodness will 
 betray him. " Hide the thoughts of such a man," sajs 
 a sage of our time: "hide the sky and stars, hide the 
 ' ' sun and, moon I Thought is all light, and publishes 
 " itself to the universe, xt will speak, though you were 
 ' ' dumb, by some miraculous organ. It will flow out of 
 " your actions, your manners and your face. It will 
 " bring you friendships, and impledge you to nature 
 " and truth, by the love and expectations of generous 
 " minds." 
 
 And yet there is in many of the best and greatest men, 
 a tardiness of growth, which either beneficially shrouds 
 their budding graces from the handling of impatient 
 friends ; or at least sets at naught that impatience, and 
 huffs the scrutiny of the interested watcher by perpetual 
 new growth of mere leaves, instead of the flowers and 
 fruit he craves. Even where the natural tendencj' is to 
 active life, such men will for years evince an awkward- 
 ness, a sMftlessness, an indirectness of aim, and unstea- 
 diness of pursuit, — on the whole a hulking, slobbery 
 ponderousness, as of an overgrown school-boy, — which 
 will make men tardy in acknowledging their worth and 
 power, when at length, after abundant waywardness, 
 their discipline is complete, their character formed, and 
 their strength matured. 
 
 As to the causes of all this, I dare not enter on them 
 now. They all centre in a good-natured simplicity, an 
 infantine acquiescence and credulity, wliich makes such 
 slow-growing men content to be hcAvers of wood and 
 drawers of water for half a life- time,' until their patience
 
 INTRODUCTION. • XXill 
 
 is exbaustecl ; or until the trumpet call of duty, ever on 
 the watch to startle them, rouses them into life ; then at- 
 length they comiuence their labours and assert their 
 rights. In their experiences likewise, they are some- 
 times tardy, and as some ancient wrote, and Goethe 
 was fond of quoting : — 
 
 O fit) dapeiQ ai'OpuTroQ ov TraicevsTcii. 
 
 In some such frame may the history of Davis's mind 
 be set. 
 
 But though great men, Avise men, kingly men, cannot 
 but be few, good men and trus need not be so scarce as 
 they are, — men, I mean, true to their own convictions, 
 and prompt in their country's need, — not greedy of dis- 
 tinction, but knowing well the liived sweetness that 
 abides in an unnoticed life, — and yet not shrinking from 
 responsibility, or avoiding danger, when the hour of trial 
 comes. It is such men that this country needs, and not 
 flaunting histrionists, or empty, platform patriots. She 
 ■wants men who can and will work as well as talk. Men 
 glad to live, and yet prepared to die. For Ireland is 
 approaching her majority, and what she wants is men. 
 
 And thus is it, above all, in the manliness of this book, 
 and of the author's character, that the germ abides of 
 hope for the country, and of consolation for his loss. 
 If such worth could grow up, and siich success be won, 
 amid all the treacherous influences that sap the strength 
 of Ireland, what have we not a right to hope for? 
 What may not be yet the glory and gladness of that 
 distant time, when our National Genius shall at length 
 stand regenerated and disenthralled from the shackles of 
 foreign thought, and the contagion of foreign example 
 when beneath his own skies, with his own hills around,
 
 XXIV INTRODUCTION. 
 
 and tlie hearts of a whole people echoing his passionate 
 words, he shall feel therein a content and exultation 
 which mere cosmoioolitan greatness is doomed never to 
 know; when satisfied with mhiistering to the wants of 
 ' the land that bore him, and having few or no affections 
 beyond the blue waves which are its eternal boundary, 
 he shall find his only and most ample reward in the gra- 
 titude and love of our own fervent people? 
 
 All! some few short years ago, who could look for 
 such a result with confidence? Though some there 
 were, whom strong affections made strong in hope, that 
 never desj)au-ed, in the gloomiest season. Times are 
 ultered since then. The eyes of our people are opened, 
 d.nd their hearts are changed. A swift and a surprising, 
 and yet an easy change, for a nation perisheth not ex- 
 cept by its own sentence. BUnd though it be, it needs 
 but be led toward the East and turned to the rising sun, 
 Tiresias-like, to recover its sight. 
 
 Well, until a spii'it of Nationality had arisen in the 
 land, and spread from sea to sea, and was not only 
 talked of, but became an abiding principle in our lives, 
 how could we hope to have a manly book, or a manly 
 being among us ? Or was it that the man and the feel- 
 ing both arose together, like a high- tide with a storm at 
 its back? What else but the fostering breath of Nation- 
 ality could make that genius strong, which, without 
 such sympathy and cherishing, must necessarily grow 
 up a weakling? For sympathy, given and received, is 
 the life and soul of genius: Avithout such support it 
 crawls along a crippled abortion, when it ought to walk 
 abroad a giant and champion of men. Until we had 
 proved ourselves worthy of having great men among us;
 
 INTRODUCTIOK. XXV 
 
 until we had shewed respect unto our dead, and taken 
 the memory of our forgotten brave unto our hearts 
 again, and bid them live there for ever ; until we dared 
 to love and honour our own, as they deserved to be 
 loved and honoured, what had we, the Irish People, a 
 right to expect? what goodness or greatness could we 
 presume to claim ? Until all sects and parties had at 
 least begun to hold out a helping hand to each other, and 
 to bind their native land with one bond of labour and 
 love, what grace could even Nature's bounty bestow on 
 such a graceless people ? 
 
 Time was, as many alive may well remember — and I 
 have been often pained by the feeling — when, if the 
 report of any new genius arose among us, we had to 
 make up our minds to find much of its brightest pro- 
 mise blighted in the early bud, or stunted in maturer 
 growth, by tlie mingled chill of exotic culture and of 
 home neglect. In those days we could never approach 
 a product of the National Mind, witliout a cold fear at 
 our hearts, that we should find it unworthy of the 
 Nation ; that we should find on it tlie stamp of the 
 slave, or the slimy trail of the stranger. And even as 
 we gazed with fondness and admiration on those, who in 
 our evil days had yet achieved something for us, and 
 given us something to be proud of, we still expected to 
 meet in them some failure, some inconsistency, some 
 sad, some lamentable defect, and to see the strong man 
 totter like a weakling and a slave. 
 
 And otlierwise it coxild not be, in our abandonment 
 
 both of our rights, and hope to recover them. Could 
 
 the orphaned heart of genius be glad like his wlio had a 
 
 pi\reut, — a mother-country, a father-land? Could he 
 
 i2
 
 XXVI INTllOnUCTION. 
 
 who had no country, or doubted what country he be- 
 longed to, and knew not anything that he should care 
 to live or die for ; or if he dreamed of such an object, 
 had chosen sect instead of country ? — Could lie be strong 
 in filial might, and firm in manly rectitude, and bold in 
 genial daring, — or can he yet be so among us, — like him 
 upon whose childish tliought no party spite hath shed 
 its venom, the milk of whose untried aifections sectarian 
 hate hath curdled not ; but the greatness and glory of 
 his country illumined for him the morning horizon of 
 life ; wliile home, and love, and freedom, the sovereign 
 graces of earth, have blended in one religion, and 
 strengthened his heart ■with a mighty strength, and 
 chastening his spirit for ever, b.ave made the memory of 
 liis young days, indeed inetfably divine ? Can he love 
 home as home should be loved, who loves not his country 
 too ? Can he love country right, who hath no home ? 
 Can he love home or country perfectly, to whose aching 
 heart the balm of love hath not been timely given ? 
 Believe it not, ye sons of men ! — as he ought, he cannot. 
 As star poiseth star in the wilderness of the illimitable 
 heavens, even so the charities of life sustain each other, 
 and centre in the spirit of God, and bind all created 
 beings beneath the shelter of his love. 
 
 But enough, — a better and a brighter day is dawning, 
 and the 
 
 " flecked darkness like a drankard reels 
 
 " From forth day's pathway, made by Fkeedom's wheels." 
 
 And our lost Thomas Davis was our Thosphoros, or 
 bringer of light ! 
 
 " Justice and Truth their winiicd child have found!"
 
 INTRODUCTION. XXVU 
 
 But let us not be incautiously hopeful. Let us re- 
 member that the pestilential intluences, which Davis, 
 lilce all of us, had to struggle with and overcome, are 
 still rife among us. Let us not deceive ourselves. The 
 miseries of our country for seven centuries have had 
 foreign causes ; but there have been, ever from the be- 
 ginning of that misery, domestic causes too. We were 
 divided, and did hate each other. We are divided and 
 do hate each other ; and therefore we cannot stand. It 
 is in many respects, too, an ill time, in which Ave are to 
 unlearn these errors, and abjure this vice, if ever we 
 abjure it. But lie who sent the disease will send the 
 healhig too. Ah, why were we not reconciled among 
 ourselves, in earlier, in better times than these ? The 
 fruit of our reconciliation then would have been greater 
 far than ever it can be now. Our native laws, and in- 
 stitutions, and language, were not tlien withered away. 
 The trees which our forefatliers planted, had yet firm 
 root in the land. But now, in the old age of our Na- 
 tion, we have had to begin life agaui, and with delibe- 
 rate effort, and the straining of cA'ery nerve, to repeat 
 those toils, which the gladness of youth made light for 
 our fathers long ages ago. And this autumn blossom of 
 our glory may go, too, as tribute to swell the renown of 
 those who so long enslaved us. Yet it is the best we 
 can do. There are millions of sad hearts in our land. 
 Are the)' to be so for ever ? There are millions who 
 have not food. Are they never to be filled ? Happy are 
 you, after all, O youth of Ireland ! fortunate if you but 
 knew it, for if ever a generation had, in hope, something 
 worth living for, and in sacrifice, something worth dying 
 for, that blessed lot is yours.
 
 XXVlll INTRODUCTION. 
 
 And here, youth of Ireland ! in this little book is a 
 Psalter of Nationality, in which every aspiration of 
 your hearts will meet its due response, — your every aim 
 and effort, encouragement and sympathy, and wisest 
 admonition. High were the hopes of our young poet 
 patriot, and unforeseen by him and all the stroke of fate 
 which was to call him untimely awaj'. The greater 
 need that you should discipline and strengthen your 
 souls, and bring the aid of man}', to what tlie genius of 
 him who is gone might have contributed more than all. 
 Hive up strength and knowledge. Be straightforward, 
 and sincere, and resolute, and undismayed as he was ; 
 and God Avill yet reward your truth and love, and bless 
 the land whose sons you boast yourselves to be. 
 
 T. \Y.
 
 TO THE MEMORY OF DAVIS. 
 
 ®o i\)e i^fTcmorti of ^I)omas IBabis. 
 
 BY JOHN FISHER MURRAY. 
 
 When on the flelct where freedom bled, 
 I press the ashes of the brave, 
 
 Marvelling that man should ever dread 
 Thus to wipe out the name of blave; " 
 
 No deep-drawn sigh escapes my breast- 
 No woman's drops my eyes dlstain, 
 
 1 weep not gallant hearts at rest — 
 I hut deplore they died in vam. 
 
 AVlien I the sacred spot behold, 
 
 Tor aye remembered and renowned, 
 \Vhere dauntless hearts and anna as bold, 
 
 StreTved tyrants and their slaves around; 
 High hopes exulting fire my breast — 
 
 High notes hiumpliant swell my struln, 
 Joy to the brave ! in victory blest — 
 
 Joy! jay! they peiished not in vain. 
 
 But when thy ever moumt'ul voice. 
 
 My countiy, calls me to deplore 
 The champion of thy youthful choice, 
 
 lIonom"ed, revered, but seen no raoi'o; 
 Heavy and quick my sorrows fall 
 
 ror liim who strove, with might and mala, 
 To leave a h.'sson for us all, 
 
 How we niiglil Uve— uor live in valu.
 
 TO THE MEMORY OF DAVIS. 
 
 If, moulded of earth's common clay, 
 
 Thou had'st to sordid arts stooped down, 
 Thy glorious talent flung away, 
 
 Or sold for price thy great renown; 
 In some poor pettifogging place, 
 
 Slothful, inglorious, thou had'st lain. 
 Herding amid the imhonoured race, 
 
 AVho doze, and dream, and die in vain. 
 
 A spark of his celestial flre, 
 
 The God of freemen struck from thee ; 
 Made thee to spiun each low desire. 
 
 Nor bend the uncompromising knee; 
 Made thee to tow thy life, to rive 
 
 With ceaseless tog, th' oppressor's chato; 
 With l)Te, with pen, with sword, to strive 
 
 For thy dear land— nor sti'ive in vain. 
 
 How hapless is our country's fate, — 
 
 If Heaven in pity to us send 
 Like thee, one glorious, good, and great— 
 
 To guide, instruct us, and amend ; 
 How soon thy honoured life is o'er— 
 
 Soon Heaven demandeth thee again ; 
 We gi-ope on darkling as before, 
 
 And fear lest thou hast died in vain. 
 
 In vain,— no, never ! O'er thy grave, 
 
 Thy spirit dwelleth in the air; 
 Thy passionate love, thy purpose brave, 
 
 Thy hope assured, thy promise fair. 
 Generous and wise, farewell '.—Forego 
 
 Tears for the glorious dead and gone;' 
 liis tears, if tears are his, still flow 
 
 For slaves and cowards livirst on.
 
 PART I. 
 
 NATIONAL 
 BALLADS AND SONGS.
 
 " National Toetry is tlie very fiowcrlng of the soul, — the greatest 
 evidence of its health, the greatest excellence of its beauty. Its 
 melody is balsam to the senses. It is the playfellow of Childhood, 
 ripens into the companion of Manhood, consoles Age. It presents tho 
 most dramatic events, the largest characters, the most impressiro 
 scenes, and the deepest passions, in the language most familiar to ns. 
 Jt magnifies and ennobles our hearts, our intellects, our country, and 
 our countrymen, — binds ua to the land by its condensed and gem-liko 
 history; to the future by example and by aspii-ation. It solaces us in 
 travel, fires us in action, prompts om' invention, sheds a grace beyond 
 the power of luxury louiid Otir iiomes, is the recognised envoy of our 
 minds among all mankind, and to all time." — Davjs's Essays.
 
 NATIONAL 
 BALLADS AND SONGS. 
 
 TIPPERARY. 
 
 Air — Original.* 
 I. 
 
 Let Britain boast her British hosts, 
 About them all right little care we? 
 
 Not British seas nor British coasts 
 Can match The Man of Tipperary 1 
 
 II. 
 
 Tall is his form, his heart is warm. 
 
 His spirit light as any fairy — 
 His wrath is fearful as the storra 
 
 That sweeps The Hills of Tipperary! 
 iir. 
 Lead him to fight for native land. 
 
 His is no courage cold and wary ; 
 The troops live not on earth would stan^ 
 
 Tlie headlong Charge of Tipperary 1 
 
 • Vide " Spirit of the Nation," 4to. p. 84, 
 B
 
 BALLADS AND SONOS^ 
 IV. 
 
 Yet meet him in liis cabin rude, 
 
 Or dancing witli his dark-haired Mary, 
 
 You'd, swear tliey knew no otlier mood 
 But Mirth and Love in Tipperary ! 
 
 V. 
 
 You're free to sliare liis scanty meal, 
 His plighted word he'll uerer vary — 
 
 In vain they tried witli gold and eleel 
 To shake The Faith of Tipperary I 
 
 VI. 
 Soft is liis cailin's sunny eye. 
 
 Her mien is mild, her step is airy. 
 Her heart is fond, her soul is high — 
 
 Oh ! she's The Pride of Tipperary 1 
 
 VII. 
 
 Let Britain brag her motley rag ; 
 
 We'll lift The Green more proud and airy ; 
 Be mine the lot to bear that flag. 
 
 And head The Men of Tipperary I 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Though Britain boasts her British hosts, 
 About them all right little care we— 
 
 Give us, to guard our native coasts, 
 Tlie Matchless Men of Tipperary I
 
 THE BrVERB. 
 
 THE KIVERS. 
 
 Air — Kathleen O'More. 
 
 I. 
 
 Thers's a far-famed Blackwater that runs to Loch Neaghj 
 There's a fairer Blackwater that runs to tlie sea — 
 
 The glory of Ulster, 
 
 The beauty of Munster, 
 
 'Fnese twin rivers be. 
 
 II. 
 
 From the banks of that river Benburb's towers arise ; 
 This stream sliines as bright as a tear from sTcet eyes ; 
 
 This fond as a young bride, 
 
 That with foeman's blood dyed — 
 Both dearly we prize. 
 
 Deep sunk in that bed is the sword of Monroe, 
 Since, 'twixt it and Donagh, he met Owen Roe, 
 
 And Charlemont's cannon 
 
 Slew many a man on 
 
 These meadows below.
 
 BALLADS AND SONGS. 
 
 The shrines of Armagh gleam far over yon lea, 
 Nor afar is DungauDon that nursed liberty, 
 
 And yonder Red Hugh 
 
 Marshal Bagenal o'ertbrew 
 
 On Beal-an-atha-Buidhe.* 
 
 V. 
 
 But far kinder the woodlands of rich Convamore, 
 And more gorgeous the turrets of saintly Lisrnorc ; 
 
 There the stream, like a maiden 
 
 With love overladen, 
 
 Pants wild on each shore. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Its rocks rise like statues, tall, stately, and fair. 
 
 And the trees, and the flowers, and the mountains} and air, 
 
 With Wonder's soul near you. 
 
 To share with, and cheer you, 
 Make Paradise there. 
 
 TH. 
 
 I would rove by that stream, ere my flag I unrolled ; 
 T would fly to these banks my betrothed to enfold — 
 
 The pride of our sire-land. 
 
 The Eden of Ireland, 
 
 More precious than gold. 
 
 * VuJgo, BiJlanabwee— the mouth of tiie yellow tod.— Terf* Gtos" 
 
 BAKV.
 
 GLENGARIFF. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 May tLeir torders be free from oppression and blight : 
 May their daughters and sons ever fondly unite— 
 
 The glory of Ulster, 
 
 Tlie beauty of JIunster, 
 
 Our strength and delight; 
 
 GLENGARIFF. 
 Air. — O'Sullivan's . '•cr.?A. 
 
 I ■WANCEBED at eYC by GlengariflF's s^eet water, 
 
 Half in the shade, and half in the moon, 
 And thought of the time when the Sacsanach slaughter 
 
 Reddened the night and darkened the noon ; 
 Mo nuar ! mo niiarl mo nvar I* I said, — 
 
 When I think, in this valley and sky — 
 Where true lovers and poets should sigh — 
 Of the time when its ehieftain O'SulUvan fied-f 
 
 » "Alas." t Vide post, pnge 108.
 
 BALLADS AND SONGS. 
 
 Then my mind went along with O'Sullivan marcliuig 
 
 Over Musk'ry's moors and Ormond's plain, 
 His curachs the waves of the Shannon o'erarcliiug, 
 
 And his pathway mile-marked with the slain : 
 Mo nuar ! mo nuar I mo nuar I I said, — 
 Yet 'twas better far from you to go, 
 And to battle with torrent and foe, 
 Than linger as slaves where your sweet waters spread. 
 
 But my fancy burst on, like a clan o'er the border. 
 
 To times that seemed almost at hand, 
 When grasping her banner, old Erin's Lamh Laidir 
 
 Alone shall rule over the rescued land : 
 O baotho I baotho I O baotho I * I said,— 
 Be our marching as steady and strong, 
 And freemen our vaUies shall throng, 
 When the last of our foemen is vanquished and fiedl 
 
 ♦ " Oh, fine.' Tlie meaning, &c., of all tlie Irish rlivnsoB ia Uiis 
 Tolnmc vrill be found in the Glossari.
 
 THE WEST'S AS LEE r. 
 
 THE WEST'S ASLEEP. 
 Am— 77ie Brink of the White Rocha. 
 
 When all beside a vigil keep. 
 The West's asleep, the West's asleep- 
 Alas ! and well may Erin weep, 
 When Counaught lies in slumber deep. 
 Tliere lake and plain smile fair and frefi, 
 TVIid rocks — their guardian chivalry — 
 Sing oh ! let man learn liberty 
 From crashing wind and lasliing sea. 
 
 That chainless wave and lovely land 
 Freedom and Nationhood demand — 
 Be sure, the great God never planned. 
 For slumbering slaves, a home so grand. 
 And, long, a brave and haughty race 
 Honoured and sentinelled the place — 
 Sing oh ! not even tlicir sons' disgrace 
 Can quite destroy their glory's trace. 
 
 • Vide " Spirit of the Xatlr^n." 4to. D. TO-
 
 10 BALLADS AND SOSGcJ. 
 
 III. 
 
 For often, in O'Connor's van, 
 To triumph dashed each Connauglit clan— 
 And fleet as deer the Normans ran 
 Through Corlieu's Pass and Ardralian. 
 And later times saw deeds as brave ; 
 And glory guards Clanricarde's grave — 
 Sing oh ! they died their land to save, 
 At Aughrim's slopes and Shannon's wave. 
 
 And if, when all a vigil keep, 
 The "West's asleep, tlie "West's asleep — 
 Alas ! and well may Erin weep, 
 That Connaught lies in slumber deep. 
 But — ^hark 1 — some voice like tliunder spaki 
 ♦' The West's awake, the WesVs awake" — 
 " Sing oh ! hurra ! let England quake, 
 We'll watch till death for Erin's sake I"
 
 oh! for a steeo. 11 
 
 OH! FOK A STEED. 
 Air — Original.* 
 
 On 1 for a steed, a rusliing steed, aud a blazing scimitar, 
 To hunt fiom beauteous Italy the Austrian's red hussar; 
 
 To mock their boaste, 
 
 And strew their hosts, 
 And scatter their flags afar. 
 
 n. 
 
 Oh I for a steed, a rushing steed, and dear Poland gathered 
 
 around. 
 To smite her circle of savage foes, and smash them upon 
 the ground ; 
 
 Nor hold my hand 
 While, on the land , 
 A foreigner foe was found. 
 
 • Vide " Spirit of the Xation," 4to. p. 209L 
 B .')
 
 12 BALLADS AND SONGS. 
 
 Oh ! for a steetl, a. rushing steed, and a rifle that never 
 
 failed, 
 And a tribe of terrible prairie men, by desperate valour 
 mailed, 
 
 Till " stripes and stars," 
 And Russian czars, 
 Before the Red Indian quailed. 
 
 Oh ! for a steed, a rushing steed, on the plains of Hin- 
 dustan, 
 And a hundred thousand cavaliers, to charge like a 
 single man, 
 
 Till our shirts were red. 
 And the English fled 
 lake a cowardly caravan. 
 
 Oh ! for a steed, a rushing steed, with the Greeks at 
 
 Marathon, 
 Or a place in the Switzer phalanx, when the Morat mea 
 swept on, 
 
 Like a pine-clad hill 
 By an earthquake's will 
 Hurled the vallies upon.
 
 OH! FOR A STEEIk. 13 
 
 VI. 
 
 Oh ! for a steed, a rushing steed, when Brian smote 
 
 down the Dane, 
 Or a place beside great Aodh O'Neill, when Bagcmil the 
 bold was slain, 
 
 Or a waving crest 
 And a lance in rest, 
 With Bruce upon Bannoch plain. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Oh ! for a steed, a rushing steed, on the Curragh of 
 
 liildare, 
 And Irish squadrons skilled to do, as they are ready to 
 dare — 
 
 A hundred yards, 
 And Holland's guards 
 Drawn up to engage me there. 
 
 viir. 
 
 Oh ! for a steed, a rusliing steed, and any good cause at all. 
 Or eise, if you will, a field on foot, or guarding a lea. 
 guered wall 
 
 For freedom's right ; 
 In flusliing fight 
 To conquer if then to fall.
 
 14 AJ^LADS AND SONOS. 
 
 CYMRIC RULK AND CYMRIC RULERS. 
 
 Air — Tlic March of the Men o/Harlech.f 
 
 Once tliere was a Cymric nation ; 
 Few its men, but high its station — 
 freedom is the soul's creatior 
 
 Not the work of hands. 
 Coward hearts are self-subduiiig ; 
 Tetters last by slaves' renewing — . 
 Edward's castles are in ruin. 
 Still his empire stands. 
 Still the Saxon's malice 
 Blights our beauteous valleys ; 
 Ours the toil, but his the spoil, and his the laws we 
 
 writhe in ; 
 Worked like beasts, that Saxon priests may riot in our 
 tithing ; 
 
 Saxon speech and Saxon teachers 
 
 Crush our Cymric tongue! 
 Tolls our traffic binding. 
 Rents our vitals grinding — 
 
 • Vide Appendix. t Welsh air.
 
 cvjir.H' r.vi.i: and '.\y.v,\c kulkrs. ]o 
 
 Bleating sheep, we cower and weep, when, by oue bold 
 
 endeavour. 
 We could drive from out our hive these Saxon (irones 
 for ever. 
 
 " Cymric RuLK and Cymric Eulers" — 
 Pass along the word I 
 
 II. 
 "We should blush at Arthur's glory — 
 Never sing the deeds of Rory — 
 Caratach's renowned story 
 
 Deepens our disgrace. 
 By the bloody day of Banchor I 
 By a thousand years of rancour 1 
 By the wrongs that in us canker I 
 
 Up ! ye Cymric race — 
 Think of Old Llewellyn,— 
 Owen's trumpets swelling ; 
 
 Then send out a thunder shout, and eveiy true man 
 
 summon, 
 Till the ground shall echo roimd from Severn to Plio 
 limmon, 
 
 " Saxon foes, and Cymric brothers, 
 
 •' Arthur's come again I" 
 Not his bone and sinew. 
 But liis soul within you. 
 Prompt and true to plan and do, and firm as Monmouth 
 
 iron 
 For our cause, though crafty laws and charging troops 
 environ — 
 
 '• Cymric Role and Cymric Eulebs" — 
 Pass along the word I
 
 IG BALLADS AND SONCS. 
 
 A BALLAD OF FREEDOM. 
 
 The Frenchman sailed in Freedom's name to smite the 
 
 Algerine, 
 The strife was short, the crescent sunk, and then his 
 
 gviile was seen ; 
 For, nestling in the pirate's hold — a fiercer pirate tar — 
 lie bade the tribes yield up their liocks, the towns their 
 
 gates imbar. 
 Right on he pressed with freemen's hands to subjugate 
 
 the free, 
 The Berber in old Atlas glens, the Moor in Titteri ; 
 And wider had his razzias spread, his cruel conquests 
 
 broader, 
 But God sent down, to face his frown, the gallant Abdel- 
 
 Kader — 
 The faithful Abdel-Kader ! unconquered Abdcl-Kader t 
 Like falling rock, 
 Or fierce siroc — 
 No saA-age or marauder — 
 Son of a slave ! 
 First of the brave ! 
 Hurrah for Abdel-Kader !' 
 
 • This name Is iironoiinccd Cawder. The French sfty that their
 
 BALLAD OF FREEDOM. 17 
 
 The Englishman, for long, long years, liad ravaged 
 
 Ganges' side — 
 A dealer first, intriguer next, he conquered far and 
 
 wide, 
 Till, hurried on by avarice, and thirst of endless rule, 
 His sepoys pierced to Candahar, his flag waved in Cabul ; 
 But still within the conquered land was one imconquered 
 
 man, 
 The fierce Pushtani* lion, the fiery Akhhar Klian — 
 He slew the sepoys on the snow, till Scindh'sf full flood 
 
 they swam it 
 Right rapidly, content to flee the son of Dost Mohammed, 
 The son of Dost Mohammed, and brave old Dost 
 Mohammed— 
 
 Oh ! long may they 
 Their mountains sway, 
 Akhbar and Dost Mohammed ! 
 Long live the Dost ! 
 Who Britaixi crost, 
 Hurrah for Dost Mohammed ! 
 
 great foe was a slave's son. Be it so — he has a hero's and freeman's 
 heart. " Hun-ah for AbdclKader 1" — Author's Note. 
 
 • Tlii.s is the name by wliicli the Afifghans call them.scilvcs. Affglian 
 is a Persian name (see Elpliinstone's delightful hook o» Cabul). — 
 Author's Note. 
 
 t The real name ■*' the Indus, which is a Latinised word. — Author's 
 
 NOTB.
 
 Ifl BALLADS AND SONGS. 
 
 The Eussian, lord of million serfs, and nobles serflier 
 
 still, 
 Indignant saw Circassia's sons bear up against his will ; 
 With fiery ships he lines their coast, his armies cross 
 
 tlieii" streams — 
 He builds a hundred fortresses — Ma conquests done, he 
 
 deems. 
 But steady rifles — rushing steeds — a crowd of nameless 
 
 chiefs — 
 The plough is o'er his arsenals ! — his fleet is on the reefs ! 
 The maidens of Kabyntica are clad in Moscow dresses — 
 His slavish herd, how dared they beard the mountain • 
 
 bred Cherkesses ! 
 The lightening Cherkesses ! — the thundering Cherkesses ! 
 May Elburz top 
 In Azof drop, 
 Ere Cossacks beat Cherkesses ! 
 The fountain head 
 Wlience Europe spread — 
 Hurrah ! for the tall Cherkesses !* 
 
 • Cherkesses or Abdyes is the right name of tlie, so-caUcd, Circas- 
 sians. KabjTitica is a town In the heart of the Caucasus, of which 
 Mount Elburz is the summit. Bluinenbach, and other physiologists, 
 assert that the finer Ewopean races descend fi'om a Circassian stock. — 
 AUTHou's Note.
 
 BALLAD OF FREEDOM. 19 
 
 But Russia preys on Poland's fields, where Sobieski 
 
 reigned, 
 And Austria on Italy — the Eotnan eagle chained — 
 Bohemia, Servia, Hungary, within her clutches, gasp ; 
 And Ira'and struggles gallantly in England's loosening 
 
 grasp. 
 Oh ! would all these their strength unite, or battle on 
 
 alone. 
 Like Moor, Pushtani, and Clierkess, they soon would 
 
 have their own. 
 Hurrah I hurrah ! it can 't be far, when from the Scindh 
 
 to Shannon 
 Shall gleam a line of freemen's flags begirt by freemcn'a 
 
 cannon 1 
 The coming day of Freedom — the flashing flags of 
 Freedom 1 
 
 The victor glaive — 
 The mottoes brave. 
 May we be there to read them I 
 That glorious noon, 
 God send it soon — . 
 
 Hurrah for himian i'reedom I
 
 iO BALLADS AND SONGS. 
 
 THE IRISH HURRAH. 
 Air — Nach m-baineann sin do. 
 
 Have you hearkened the eagle scream over the sea ? 
 Have you hearkened the breaker beat under your lee ? 
 A something between the wild waves, in their play, 
 And the kingly bird's scream, is The Irish Hurrah. 
 
 II. 
 
 How it rings on the rampart when Saxons assail — 
 How it leaps on the level, and crosses the vale. 
 Till the talk of the cataract faints on its way, 
 And the echo's voice cracks with tlie Irish Hurrah. 
 
 III. 
 
 How it sweeps o'er tlie mountain when hounds are on 
 
 scent, 
 How it presses the billows when rigging is rent, 
 Till the enemy's broadside sinks low in dismay, 
 As our boarders go in with The Irish Hurrah. 
 
 Oh ! there 's hope in tlie trumpet and glee in the fife. 
 But never such music broke into a strife. 
 As when iit its bursting the war-clouds give way. 
 And there's cold steel along with The Irish Hurrah,
 
 SONG FOR THE IRISH MILITIA. 21 
 
 T. 
 
 What joy for a death-bed, your banner abore, 
 And round you the pressure of patriot love. 
 As you 're lifted to gaze on the brealting array 
 Of the Saxon reserve at The Irish Hurrah. 
 
 A SONG FOR THE IRISH MILITFA. 
 Air — The Peacock. 
 
 The tribune's tongue and poet's pen 
 May sow the seed in prostrate men ; 
 But 'tis the soldier's sword alone 
 Can reap the crop so bravely sown 1 
 No more I'll sing nor idly pine. 
 But train my soul to lead a line — 
 A soldier's life's the life for me — 
 A soldicr'b death, so Ireland's free I
 
 22 BALLADS AND SOMOS. 
 
 No foe would fear your thmidcr word;! 
 If 'twere not for our light'niiig swordts— 
 If tyrants yield when millions pray, 
 'Tis lest they link in war array ; 
 Nor peace itself is safe, but when 
 The sword is sheathed by fighting meu- 
 A soldier's life's the life for me — 
 A soldier's death, so Ireland's free ! 
 
 The rifle brown and sabre bright 
 Can freely speak and nobly write — 
 What prophets preached the truth so well 
 As HoFER, Eriah, Broce, and Teli^ ? 
 God guard the creed these heroes taught, — 
 That blood-bought Freedom's cheaply bought. 
 A soldier's life's the life for me — 
 A soldier's death, so Ireland's free '. 
 
 Then, welcome be the bivouac. 
 Hie hardy stand, and fierce attack, 
 "Where pikes will tame their carbineers. 
 And rifles thin their bay'neteers. 
 And every field the island through 
 WiU show " what Irishmen can do I" 
 A soldier's life's the lite for me — 
 A soldier's dcatii. so Ireland's free I
 
 SONG FOR THE IRISH MILITIA. 23 
 
 V. 
 
 Yet, 'tis not strength, and 'tis not steel 
 Alone can make the English reel ; 
 But wisdom, working day by day. 
 Till comes the time for passion's sway — 
 The patient dint, and powder shock, 
 Can blast an empire like a rock. 
 A soldier's life's the life for me — . 
 A soldier's death, so Ireland's free I 
 
 The tribune's tongue and poet's pen 
 May sow the seed in slavish men ; 
 But 'tis the soldier's sword alone 
 Can reap the harvest when 'tis grown. 
 No more I'il sing, no more I'U pine. 
 But train my soul to lead a line — 
 A soldier's life's the life for nie — 
 A soldier's deatn, so Ireland's ireoi
 
 24 ijALLADS AND SONGG. 
 
 OUK OWN AGAIN. 
 
 Air — Original.* 
 
 Let the coward shrink aside, 
 
 "We'll liave our own again ; 
 Let the brawling slave deride. 
 
 Here's for our owii agaiu — 
 Let the tyrant bribe and lie, 
 March, threaten, fortify. 
 Loose his lawyer and his spy. 
 
 Yet we'U have our own agaiE . 
 Let him soothe in silken tone, 
 Scold from a foreign throne ; 
 Let him come with bugles blown, 
 
 We shall have our own again. 
 Let us to our purpose bide, 
 
 We'll have our own again — 
 Let the game be fairljf tried, 
 
 We'll have our own again. 
 
 «* F/Vie "Spirit of tlie Nation," 4to. p S08.
 
 ODR OWN AGAIN. 2S 
 
 II. 
 
 Send tlie cry throughout the land, 
 
 " Wlio's for our own again ?" 
 Summon all men to our band, — 
 
 Wliy not our own again ? 
 Rich, and poor, and old, and J^oung, 
 Shari) sword, and fiery tongue — 
 Soul and sinew firmly strung, 
 
 All to get our own again. 
 Brothers thrive by brotherhood — 
 Trees in a stormy wood — 
 Kiches come from Nationhood — 
 
 Sha'n't we have our own again ? 
 Munster's woe is Ulster's bane ! 
 
 Join for our own again — 
 Tyrants rob as well as reign, — 
 
 We'll have our own again. 
 
 Oft our fathers' hearts it stirred, 
 " Rise for our own again I" 
 Often passed the signal word, 
 
 " Strike for our own again 1" 
 Rudely, rashly, and untaught. 
 Uprose they, ere they ought, 
 Palling, though they nobly fought. 
 Dying for tlieir own again.
 
 26 
 
 Mind will rule and muscle yield, 
 
 In senate, ship, and field — . 
 
 When weVe skill our strength to wield. 
 
 Let us take our own again. 
 By the slave his chain is wrought, — 
 
 Strive for our own again. 
 Thiinder is less strong than thought, — . 
 
 We'll have our own again. 
 
 Calm as granite to our foes, 
 
 Stand for our own again ; 
 Till his wrath to madness grows. 
 
 Firm for our own again. 
 Bravely hope, and wisely wait. 
 Toil, join, and educate ; 
 Man is master of his fate ; 
 
 We'll enjoy our own again. 
 With a keen constrained thirst — 
 Powder's calm ere it burst — 
 Making ready for the worst, 
 
 So we'll get our own again. 
 Let us to our purpose bide. 
 
 We'll have our own again. 
 God is on the righteous side, 
 
 We'll have our own agam.
 
 CELTS AND SAXONS. 
 
 CELTS AND SAXONS.* 
 
 We hate the Saxon and the Dane, 
 
 We hate the Norman men — 
 We cursed their greed for blood and gain. 
 
 We curse them now again. 
 Yet start not, Irish born mao, 
 
 If you're to Ireland true, 
 We heed not blood, nor creed, nor clan — 
 
 We have no curse for you. 
 
 II. 
 
 We have no curse for you or your's. 
 
 But Friendship's ready grasp. 
 And Faith to stand by you and your's, 
 
 Unto our latest gasp — 
 To stand by you against all foes, 
 
 Howe'er, or Avhence they come, 
 With traitor arts, or bribes, or blows. 
 
 From England, France, or Eome. 
 
 • AVritten in reply to some verj- beautiful verses prtiitcd In the 
 Evening Mail, deprecating and defying the assumed hostility of tlie 
 Irish Celts to the Irish Saxons. — Authobs Xotk.
 
 2S BALLADS AND SONfiS 
 
 What matter that at different shrhies 
 
 "We pray unto one God — 
 What matter that at different times 
 
 Our fathers won this sod — 
 In fortune and in name we're bound 
 
 By stronger links than steel ; 
 And neither can be safe nor sound 
 
 But in the other's Aveal. 
 
 IV. 
 
 As Nubian rocks, and Ethiop sand 
 
 Long drifting down the Nile, 
 Built up old Egypt's fertile land 
 
 For many a hundred mile ; 
 So Pagan clans to Ireland came, 
 
 And clans of Christendom, 
 Yet joined their wisdom and their fam© 
 
 To build a nation from. 
 
 Here came the brown Phoenician, 
 
 The man of trade and toil — 
 Here came the proud Milesian, 
 
 Ahungering for spoil ; 
 And the Pirbolg and the Cymry, 
 
 And the hard, enduring Dane, 
 And the iron Lords of Normandy, 
 
 With the Saxons in their train.
 
 CELTS AND SAXONS. 29 
 
 And oh ! it were a gallant deed 
 
 To show before mankind, 
 How every race and every creed 
 
 Might be by love combined — 
 Might be combined, yet not forget 
 
 The fountains whence they rose, 
 As, filled by many a riviUet 
 
 The stately Shannon flows. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Nor would we wreak our ancient feud 
 
 On Belgian or on Dane, 
 Nor visit in a hostile mood 
 
 The hearths of Gaul or Spain ; 
 But long as on our country lies 
 
 The Anglo-Norman yoke. 
 Their tyranny we'll signalize. 
 
 And God's revenge invoke. 
 
 We do not hate, we never cursed, 
 
 Nor spoke a foeman's word 
 Against a man in Ireland nursed, 
 
 Howe'er we thought he erred ; 
 So start not, Irish born man, 
 
 If you're to Ireland true, 
 We heed not race, nor creed, nor clar. 
 
 We've hearts and hands for you.
 
 BALLADS AND SONGS. 
 
 ORANGE AND GREEN WILL CARRY 
 THE DAY 
 
 Air — The Protestant Boys. 
 
 Ireland ! rejoice, and England ! deplore — 
 
 Paction and feud are passing away. 
 "XSvas a low voice, but 'tis a loud roar, 
 " Orange and Green will carry the day " 
 
 Orange 1 Orange! 
 
 Green and Orange I 
 Pitted together in many a fray — 
 
 Lions in fight 1 
 
 And linked in their might, 
 Orange and Green will carry the day. 
 
 Orange 1 Orange I 
 
 Green and Orange ! 
 Wave them together o'er mountain and bay, 
 
 Orange and Green / 
 
 Our King and our Queen ! 
 •♦ Orange and Green will carry tlie day !"
 
 ORANGE AND GKEEN. 31 
 
 Eusty the swords our fathers unsheathed — 
 William and James are turned to clay — 
 Long did we till the wrath they bequeathed ; 
 Red was the crop, and bitter the pay ! 
 
 Freedom fled us 1 
 
 Knaves misled us I 
 Under the feet of the foemen we lay — 
 
 Riches and strength 
 
 Well win them at length, 
 For Orange and Green will carry the day 1 
 
 Landlords fooled us ; 
 
 England ruled us, 
 Hounding our passions to make us their prey 
 
 But, in their spite. 
 
 The Irish Unite, 
 And Orange and Green will carry the day ! 
 
 ui. 
 
 Fruitful our soil where honest men starve -, 
 
 Empty the mart, and shipless the bay; 
 Out of our want the Oligarchs carve ; 
 Foreigners fatten on our decay I 
 Disunited, 
 Therefore bhghted. 
 Ruined and rent by the Englishman's sway ; 
 Party and creed 
 For once have agreed — 
 Orange and Green will carry the day I 
 
 c3
 
 32 BALLADS AND S0N03. 
 
 Boyne's old water. 
 
 Red with slaughter I 
 Now is as pure as an infant at play; 
 
 So, in GUI' souls, 
 
 Its history roll?, 
 And Orange and Green will carry the day! 
 
 English deceit can rule us no more, 
 
 Bigots and knaves are scattered like spray — 
 Deep was the oath the Orangeman swore, 
 " Orange and Green must carry the day 1" 
 
 Orange I Orange ! 
 
 Bless the Orange I 
 Tories and Whigs grew pale with dismay. 
 
 When, from the North, 
 
 Burst the cry forth, 
 " Orange and Green will carry the day ; " 
 
 No surrender J 
 
 No Pretender 1 
 Never to falter and never betray — 
 
 With an Amen, 
 
 We swear it again, 
 
 OnANGE AND GrEEN SHALL CARRY THE UAY,
 
 "The elements of Irish 'Nationality are not only combining — In 
 fact, Oicy are growing confluent in onr minds. Such nationality as 
 merits a good man's lielp, and awakens a true man's ambition, — snch 
 nationality as could stand against internal faction and foreign intrigue, 
 — such nationality as would make the Irish hearth happy, and the 
 Irish name illustrious, is becoming understood. It must contain and 
 represent all the races of Ireland. It must not be Celtic ; it must not 
 be Saxon ; it must be Irish. The Brehon law, and the maxims of 
 AYestminster; — the cloudy and Ughtning genius of the Gael, the placid 
 strength of the Sacsanach, the marshalling insight of the Norman ;— a 
 Literature which shall exhibit in combination the passions and idioms 
 of aU, and which shall equiilly express om- mind, in its romantic, its 
 religious, its forensic, and its practical tendencies; — finely, a native 
 government, which shall know and rule by tlie might and right of all, 
 yet yield to the arrogance of none; — these are the components of such 
 a nationaUt;'," — Davis's EssAVii,
 
 •' It Is not a gambling fortune, made at imperial play, Ireland wants; 
 It is the pious and stem cultivation of her faculties and her virtues, the 
 acquisition of faithful and exact habits, and the self-respect that re- 
 wards a dutiful and sincere life. To get her peasants Into snug homa- 
 steads, with well-tilled fields and placid hearths, — to develope the inge- 
 nuity of lier artists, and the docile industry of her artisans, — to make 
 for her gwn instruction a literature wherein our climate, history, and 
 passions shall breathe, — to gain conscious strength and integrity, and 
 the high post of holy freedom; — these are Ii-eland's wants." 
 
 Daviss Essays
 
 PART II. 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS 
 SONGS AND BALLADS.
 
 "The greatest achievement of tlie Irish people is tlieir music. It 
 tells tlieir liistory, climate, and cliaracter; but it too much loves to 
 vreep. Let us, when so many of our chains have been broken, — while 
 our strength is great, and our hopes high, — cultivate its bokler strains 
 — its raging and rejoicing; or if we weijp, let it be like men whose 
 eyes are lifted, though their tears fall. 
 
 " JIusic is the first fticulty of the Msh ; and scarcely anything has 
 Buch power for good over theai. The use of this faculty and this 
 power, publicly and constantly, to keep up their spirits, refine .their 
 tastes, wann their courage, increase their union, and renew their ze.il, 
 —4a the duty of every patriot." — Davls's Essays.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS 
 SONGS AND BALLADS. 
 
 THE LOST PATH. 
 
 Air Grddh mo chroide. 
 
 I. 
 
 Sweet thoughts, bright dreams, my comfort be, 
 
 All comfort else has flown; 
 For every hope was false to me, 
 
 And here I am, alone. 
 What thoughts were mine in early youtli ! 
 
 Like some old Irish song. 
 Brimful of love, and life, and truth. 
 
 My spirit gushed along. 
 
 I hoped to right my native isle, 
 I hoped a soldier's fame, 
 
 I hoped to rest in woman's Biniler 
 And win a minstrel's name —
 
 S6 SONGS AND BALLADS. 
 
 Oh 1 little Lave I served my land, 
 No laurels press my brow, 
 
 I have no woman's heart or hand. 
 Nor minstrel honours now. 
 
 But fancy has a magic power. 
 
 It brings me wreath and crown, 
 And woman's love, the self-same hour 
 
 It smites oppression down. 
 Sweet thoughts, bright dreams, my comfort bo, 
 
 I have no joy beside ; 
 Oh ! throng around, and be to me 
 
 Power, country, fame, and bride. 
 
 LOVE'S LONGINGS. 
 
 To the conqueror nis crowning, 
 
 First freedom to the slave. 
 And air unto the drowning. 
 
 Sunk in the ocean's wave — 
 And succour to the faithful, 
 
 Who fight their flag above, 
 A re sweet, but far less grateful 
 
 Than were my lady's love.
 
 lovk's loncinor. 37 
 
 I know I am not worthy 
 
 Of one so young and bright ; 
 And yet I would do for thee 
 
 Far more than others might ; 
 I cannot give you pomp or gold. 
 
 If you should be my wife, 
 But I can give you love untold, 
 
 And true in death or life. 
 
 lit. 
 
 Methinks that there are passions 
 
 Within that heaving breast 
 To scorn their heartless fashions. 
 
 And wed whom you love best. 
 Methinks you would be prouder 
 
 As the struggling patriot's bride. 
 Than if rank your home should crowd, Jt 
 
 Cold riches round you glide. 
 
 Oh ! the watcher longs for morning. 
 
 And the infant cries for light. 
 And the saint for heaven's warning, 
 
 And the vanquished pray for might ; 
 But their prayer, when lowest kneeling. 
 
 And their suppliance most true, 
 Are cold to the appealing 
 
 Of this longing heart to you. 
 
 V
 
 38 SONGS AND BAI,I,AD8, 
 
 HOPE DEFERRED. 
 Air Oh I art thou gone, my Mary dear t 
 
 1. 
 
 "Tis long since we were forced to part, at least it seems 
 
 so to my grief, 
 For sorrow wearies us like time, but all ! it brings not 
 
 time's relief: 
 As in our days of tenderness, before me stiU she seems 
 
 to glide ; 
 And, though my arms are wide as then, yet she will not 
 
 abide. 
 The day-light and the star-light shine, as if her eyes 
 
 were in their light, 
 And, whispering in the panting breeze, her love-songs 
 
 come at lonely night : 
 Wliile, far away with those less dear, she tries to hide 
 
 her grief in vain. 
 For, kind to all while true to me, it pains her to give 
 
 pain. 
 
 I know she never spoke her love, she never breathed a 
 
 single vow, 
 And yet I 'm sure she loved me then, and still doats on 
 
 me now ;
 
 EIBHLIN A RUIN. 39 
 
 For, when we met, her eyes grew glad, and heavy when 
 
 I left her side. 
 And oft she said she 'd be most happy as a poor man's 
 
 bride , 
 I toiled to win a pleasant home, and make it ready by 
 
 the spring ; 
 The spring is past — Avhat season now my girl unto our 
 
 home will bring ? 
 I'm sick and weary, very weary — watching, morning, 
 
 night, and noon ; 
 How long you're coming — I am dying — will jou not 
 
 come soon ? 
 
 EIBHLIN A RUIN 
 Air, — Eibhlin a ruin. 
 
 When I am far away, 
 
 Eibhlhi a ruin, 
 Be gayest of the gay, 
 
 Eibhlin a ruin. 
 
 Too dear your happiness, 
 
 Por me to wish it less — 
 
 Love has no selfishness. 
 
 Eihhl'm a ruin.
 
 40 SONGS AND BALLADS. 
 
 And it must be our pride, 
 
 Fihhl'in a ruin. 
 Our trusting hearts to Iddc, 
 
 Eibhl'tn a ruin. 
 They wish our love to blight. 
 We'll wait for Fortune's light 
 The flowers close up at night, 
 Eihhl'm a ruin. 
 
 And when we meet alone, 
 
 EihliUn a ruin. 
 Upon my bosom thrown, 
 
 Eihhlin a ruin ; 
 That liour, with light bedecked, 
 Shall cheer us and direct, 
 A beacon to the wrecked, 
 
 Eihhlin a rain. 
 
 Fortune, thus sought, will ooraOf, 
 
 Eibhlin a ruin. 
 We'll win a happy hG7ne, 
 
 EibhUn a rain ; 
 And, as it slowly rose, 
 'Twill tranquilly repose, 
 A rock 'mid melting snows, 
 
 Eihhlin a ruin.
 
 THE BANKS OF TH K LKE. 41 
 
 THE BANKS OF THE LEE. 
 Air A Trip to the Cottage. 
 
 Oh I the banks of the Lee, the banks of the Lee, 
 
 And love in a cottage for Mary and me; 
 
 There's not in the land a lovelier tide, 
 
 And I'm sure that there's no one so fau' as my bride 
 
 She's modest and meek, 
 
 There's a down on her cheek, 
 
 And her skin is as sleek 
 As a butterfly's wing — 
 
 Then her step would scarce show 
 
 On the fresh-fallen snow, 
 
 And her whisper is low, 
 But as clear as the spring. 
 Oil ! tlie banks of the Lee, the banks of the Lee, 
 And love in a cottage for Mary and me, 
 I know not how love is happy elsewhere, 
 I know not how any but lovers are there J 
 
 II. 
 
 Oh I so green is the grass, so clear is the stream. 
 So mild is the mist, and so rich is the beam. 
 That beauty should ne'er to other lands roam, 
 But make on the banks of the river its home.
 
 42 SONGS AND BAI,I,AD8. 
 
 Wlien, dripping with dow, 
 
 The roses peep through, 
 
 Tis to look in at you 
 They are growing so fast ; 
 
 WTiib the scent of the flowers 
 
 Must be hoarded for hours, 
 
 'Tis poured in such showers 
 When my Mary goes past. 
 Oh ! the banks of the Lee, the banks of the Lee, 
 And love in a cottage for Mary and me — 
 Oh, Mary for me — oh, Mary for me I 
 And 'tis little I'd sigh for the banks of the Lee 1 
 
 THE GIKL OF DUNBWY. 
 I. 
 
 'TiR pretty to see the girl of Dunbwy 
 Stepping the mountain statelily — 
 Though ragged her gown, and naked her feet, 
 No ladv in Ireland to match her is meet. 
 
 roor is her diet, and hardly she lies — 
 Yet a monarch might kneel for a glance of her eyes ; 
 The child of a peasant — yet England's proud Queen 
 Has less rank in her heart, and less grace in her mien.
 
 THE GIRL Of DUNBVVY. 43 
 
 Her brow 'neath her raven hair gleams, just as if 
 A breaker spread white 'neath a shadowy cliff — 
 And lore, and devotion, and energy speak 
 From her beauty -proud eye, and her passion-pale cheek. 
 
 IV. 
 
 But, pale as her cheek is, there's fruit on her lip. 
 And her teeth flash as white as the crescent moon's tip, 
 And her form and her step, like the reed-deer's, go past— . 
 As lightsome, as lovely, as haugiity, as fast. 
 
 I saAV her but once, and I looked in her eye. 
 And she knew that I worshipped in passing her by ; 
 The saint of the wayside — she granted my prayer, 
 Tliough we spoke not a word, for her mother was there* 
 
 VI. 
 
 I never can think upon Bantry's bright liills. 
 But her image starts up, and my longing eye fills ; 
 And I whisper her softly, "again, love, we'll meet. 
 And I '11 lie in your bosom, and live at your feet. "
 
 •14 SONGS AND BALLADS. 
 
 DUTY AND LOVE. 
 Air. — My lodging is on the cold ground. 
 
 Oh ! lady, think not that my heart lias grown cold, 
 
 If I woo not as once I could woo ; 
 Tliough sorrow-has bruised it, and long years have rolled. 
 
 It still doats on beauty and you : 
 And were I to yield to its inmost desire, 
 
 I would labour by night and by day, 
 Till I won you to flee from the home of 3'our sire. 
 
 To live with your love far away. 
 
 But it is that my country's in bondage, and I 
 
 Have sworn to shatter her chains! 
 By my duty and oath I must do it or lie 
 
 A corse on her desolate plains ; 
 Then, sure, dearest maiden, 'twere sinful to sue, 
 
 And crueller far to win, 
 But, should victory smile on my banner, to you 
 
 I shall fly without sorrow or sin.
 
 ANNIE DEAR. 46 
 
 ANNIE DEAR. 
 A IB. — Maids in May. 
 
 Ora mountain brooks were rushing, 
 Annie, dear. 
 
 The Autumn eve was flushing, 
 
 Annie, dear; 
 
 But brighter was j'our blushing. 
 
 When first, your murmurs hushing, 
 
 I told my love outgushing, 
 
 Annie, dear. 
 
 Ah ! but our hopes were splendid, 
 Annie, dear, 
 How sadly they have ended, 
 
 Annie, dear; 
 The ring betwixt us broken, 
 When our vows of love were spoken. 
 Of your poor heart was a token, 
 
 Annie, dear. 
 d3
 
 46 SONGS AND BALLADS. 
 
 The primrose flowers were shining, 
 Annie, dear. 
 
 When, on my breast reclining, 
 
 Annii, dear 1 
 
 Began our MUna-meaia, 
 
 And many a month did follow 
 
 Of joy — but life is hollow, 
 
 Annie, dear. 
 
 IV. 
 
 For once, when home retnrnmg, 
 
 Annie, dear, 
 
 I fonnd our cottage burning, 
 
 Annie, dear; 
 
 Around it were the yeomen, 
 
 Of every ill an omen, 
 
 The country's bitter foemen, 
 
 Annie, dear. 
 
 But why arose a morrow, 
 
 Annie, dear. 
 Upon that night of sorrow^ 
 
 Annie, de.vr? 
 Far better, by thee lying. 
 Their bayonets defying, 
 Than live an exile sigliing, 
 
 Annie, dear.
 
 p^ 
 
 BLIND MARY. 
 
 47 
 
 BLIND MAEY. 
 Air. — Blind Mary. 
 
 i'uERK flows from her spirit such love and delight, 
 irh;it the face of Uliiid Mary is radiant with light — 
 |As tlie gleam from a homestead through darkness will 
 
 show, 
 jOr the moon glimmer soft through the fast falling snow. 
 
 Yet there's a keen sorrow comes o'er her at times, 
 As an Indian might feel in our northerly climes ; 
 And she talks of the sunset, like parting of friends. 
 And the starlight, as love, that nor changes nor enda. 
 
 Ah ! grieve not, sweet maiden, for star or for sun, 
 For the moimtains that tower, or the rivers that run — 
 For beauty and grandeur, and glory, and light. 
 Are seen by the spirit, and not by the sight. 
 
 In vain for the thoughtless are sunburst and shade, 
 In vain for the heartless flowers blossom and fade ; 
 While the darkness that seems your sweet being to 
 
 bound 
 Is one uf the guardians, an Eden around!
 
 48 SONGS AND BALLADS. 
 
 THE BRIDE OF MALLOW. 
 I. 
 
 'TwAs dying they thouglit her, 
 And kindly tliey brought her 
 To the banks of Blackwater , 
 
 Wliere her forefathers lie ; 
 'Twas the place of her childhood, 
 - And they hoped that its wild wood, 
 And air soft and mild A^'ould 
 
 Soothe her spirit to die. 
 II. 
 Bat slie met on its border 
 A lad who adored her — 
 No rich man, nor lord, or 
 
 A coward, or slave ; 
 But one who had worn 
 A green coat, and borne 
 A pike from Slieve Mourne, 
 
 With the patriots brave. 
 HI. 
 Oh ! the banks of the stream are 
 Than emeralds greener : 
 And how should they wean her 
 
 From loving the earth ? 
 AVhile the song-birds so sweet. 
 And the waves at their feet. 
 Ami each young pair they meet. 
 
 Arc aU dushing with mirth.
 
 THE BRIDE OF MALLOW. 49 
 
 And she listed his talk, 
 And he shared in her walk — 
 And how could she baulk 
 
 One so gallant and tnie ? 
 But why teU the rest ? 
 Her love she confest, 
 And sunk on his breast, 
 
 Like the eventide dew. 
 
 V. 
 
 Ah ! now her cheek glows 
 With the tint of the rose. 
 And her healthful blood flovp, 
 
 Just as fresh as the streans ; 
 And her eye flashes bright. 
 And her footstep is light, 
 And sickness and blight 
 
 Fled away like a dream. 
 
 And soon by his side 
 She kneels a sweet bride. 
 In maidenly pride 
 
 And maidenly fears ; 
 And their children were fair, 
 And their home knew no care, 
 Save that all homesteads were 
 
 Not as happy as theirs.
 
 60 SUNtiS ASD 13ALLAUS. 
 
 THE WELCOME. 
 Air. — An buachailui huidlie. 
 
 I. 
 
 Come in the evening, or come in the morning, 
 Come when you're looked for, or come without warning, 
 Kisses and welcome you'll find here before 3'ou, 
 And the oftener you come here the more I'll adore you. 
 Light is my heart since the day we were plighted, 
 Eed is my cheek that they told me was blighted ; 
 The green of the trees looks far greener than ever. 
 And the linnets are singing, "true lovers I don't sever." 
 
 I'll pull you sweet flowers, to wear if you choose them ; 
 Or, after you've kissed them, they'll lie on my bosom. 
 I'll fetch from the mountain its breeze to inspire you ; 
 I'll fetch from my fancy a tale that won't tire you. 
 
 Oh ! your step's like the rain to the summer-vexed 
 farmer, 
 
 Or sabre and shield to a knight without armour ; 
 
 I'll sing you sweet songs till the stars rise above me. 
 
 Then, wandering, I'll wish you, in silence, to love me.
 
 THE WELCOME. 
 
 51 
 
 We'll look through the trees at the cliif, and the eyrie. 
 We'll tread round the rath on the track of the fairy, 
 We'll look on the stars, and we'll list tc the river. 
 Till you ask of your darUng what gift you can give her. 
 Oh ! she'll whisper you. " Love as unchangeably 
 
 beaming, 
 And trust, when in secret, most tunefully streaming. 
 Till the starlight of heaven above us shall quiver. 
 As our souls flow in one down eternity's river." 
 
 So come in the evening, or come in the morning. 
 Come when you're looked for, or come without warning. 
 Kisses and welcome you'll find here before you. 
 And the oftener you come here the more I'll adore you 1 
 Light is my heart since the day we were jilighted, 
 lied is my cheek tliat they told me was blighted ; 
 The green of the trees looks far greener than ever. 
 And the luinetsare singing, " true lo\ ei-s t don't sever!"
 
 52 S0N08 AND B.VLLAD8. 
 
 THE MI-NA-MEALAo 
 
 Like the rising of the sun, 
 
 Herald of bright hours to follow, 
 
 Lo? the marriage rites are done, 
 And begun the Ml-na-meala. 
 
 Heart to heart, and hand to hand. 
 Vowed 'fore God to love and cherisli, 
 
 Each by each in grief to stand. 
 Never more apart to flourish. 
 
 Now their lips, low whisp'ring, speak 
 Thoughts their eyes have long been saying. 
 
 Softly bright, and richly meek, 
 As seraphs first their Avings essaying. 
 
 Deeply, wildly, warmly, love — 
 'Tis a heaven-sent enjoyment. 
 
 Lifting up our thoughts above 
 
 Selfish aims and cold employment.
 
 THE MI-NA-MKALA. 53 
 
 V. 
 
 Yet, remember, passion wanes, 
 Romance is parent to dejection; 
 
 Nought our happiness sustains 
 But thoughtful care and firm affection. 
 
 VI. 
 
 When the Mi-na-mealas flown, 
 Sterner duties surely need you; 
 
 Do their bidding, — 'tis love's o^vn, — 
 Faithful love will say God speed you- 
 
 VII. 
 
 Guard her comfort as 'tis worth. 
 Pray to God to look down on her : 
 
 And swift as cannon-shot go forth 
 
 To strive for freedom, truth, and honour. 
 
 VUI. 
 
 Oft recall — and never swerve — 
 
 Your children's love and her's will follow ; 
 Guard your home, and there preserve 
 
 Tor you an endless Mi-na-meala.* 
 
 • lloneymooa. Kirfe GLOssiBr.
 
 54 SONGS AND BALLADS. 
 
 MAIRE BIIAN A STOIH. 
 
 Air — Original. 
 
 In a valley, far away. 
 
 With my Mdire bhan a stoir* 
 Sliort would be the siimrner-day, 
 
 Ever loving more and more ; 
 Winter-days would all grow long, 
 
 With tlie light her heart would jiour. 
 With her kisses and her song, 
 And her loving maith go leor.f 
 
 Fond is Maire bhan a stoir. 
 Fair is Maire bhan a stoir. 
 Sweet as ripple on the shore, 
 Sings my Miire bhan a stoir. 
 
 • 'WTiich means, "fair Mary my treasure." If we are to ■write gib- 
 berish to enable some of oui- readers to pronounce this, we must do so 
 thus, Maur-ya vaun asthore, and pretty looking stuff it is. Really 
 it is time for the inhabitants of Ireland to learn Irish. — Auiuor's Koth. 
 
 t Much plenty, or iu abundance.— Authok's Note.
 
 MAIRE I3HAN A STOIR. 55 
 
 II. 
 
 Oil ! lier sire is very proud, 
 
 And her mother cold as stone ; 
 But her brother bravely vowed 
 
 She should be my bride alone ; 
 For he knew I loved her well, 
 
 And he knew she loved me too, 
 So he sought their pride to quell, 
 But 'twas all in vain to sue. 
 
 True is Maire hhan a sloir. 
 Tried is Maire bhan a stoir. 
 Had I wings I'd never soar. 
 From my Maire hhan a stoir. 
 
 There are lands where manly toil 
 
 Surely reaps the crop it sows, 
 Glorious woods and teeming soil, 
 
 Where the broad Jlissouri flows ; 
 Through the trees the smoke shall rise, 
 From our hearth with maith go kSr, 
 There shall shine the happy eyes 
 Of my Maire bhan a stuir. 
 
 Mild is Maire hhan a stoir. 
 Mine is Maire bhan a stoir. 
 Saints will watch about the door 
 Of my Muire bhan a stoir.
 
 56 SONGS AND BALLADS. 
 
 OH! THE MARRIAGE. 
 Air llie Swaggering Jig. 
 
 On ! the marriage, the marriage. 
 
 Witli love and mo hhuachaill for me, 
 The ladies that ride in a carriage 
 
 Slight envy my marriage to me ; 
 For Eoglian* is straight as a tower. 
 
 And tender and loving and true, 
 He told me more love in an hour 
 
 Than the Squires of the county could do. 
 Then, Oh ! the marriage, &c. 
 
 II. 
 
 His hair is a shower of soft gold, 
 
 His eye is as clear as the day, 
 His conscience and vote were unsold 
 
 When others were carried away ; 
 His word is as good as an oath. 
 
 And freely 't^vas given to me ; 
 Oh ! sm-e 'twill be hapjiy for both " 
 
 The day of our marriage to see. 
 
 Then, Oh ! the marriage, &c. 
 
 * Vuhjo Owen ; but tliat is, proijerly, a name ainoag the Cymry 
 (Welih).— AuTuoK'a Note.
 
 ohI the marriage. 57 
 
 III. 
 
 His kinsmen are honest and kind. 
 
 The neighbours think much of his skill. 
 And Eoghan's the lad to my mind, 
 
 Though he owns neither castle nor mill. 
 But he has a tilloch of land, 
 
 A horse, and a stocking of coin, 
 A foot for the dance, and a hand 
 
 In the cause of his country to join. 
 
 Then, Oh I the marriage, &<x 
 
 IV. 
 
 We meet in the market and fair — 
 
 We meet in the morning and night — 
 He sits on the half of my chair, 
 
 And my people are wild with delight. 
 Yet I long through the winter to skim, 
 
 Though Eoghan longs more I can see, 
 When I will be married to him, 
 And he will be married to me. 
 
 Then, Oh ! the marriage, the marriage, 
 With love and mo hhuachaill for nie, 
 The ladies that ride in a carriage. 
 Might envy my marriage to me.
 
 58 SONGS AND BALLADS. 
 
 A PLEA FOR LOVE. 
 
 The summer brook flows in the bed, 
 
 The winter torrent tore asunder ; 
 The sky-hirk's gentle wings are spread, 
 
 Where walk the lightning and the thunder; 
 And thus you'U. find the sternest soul 
 
 The gayest tenderness concealing. 
 And minds, that seem to mock control, 
 
 Are ordered by some fairy feeling. 
 
 Then, maiden ! start not from the hand 
 
 That's hardened by the swaying sabre — 
 The pulse beneath may be as bland 
 
 As evening after day of labour : 
 And, maiden ! start not from the brow 
 
 That thought has knit, and passion daikeut 
 In twilight hours, 'nealh forest bough, 
 
 The tenderest tales are often heai kened.
 
 THE BISUOP'S DAUGHTER. 59 
 
 THE BISHOP'S DAUGHTER. 
 Air The Maid of Kilhla. 
 
 Killala's halls are proud and fair; 
 Tyrawley's hills are cold and bare ; 
 Yet, in the palace, you were sad, 
 Wliile, here, your heart is safe and glad. 
 
 No satin couch, no maiden train. 
 Are here to soothe each passing pain ; 
 Tet lay your head my breast upon, — 
 'Twill turn to down for you, sweet one 1 
 
 III. 
 
 Your father's halls are rich and fair. 
 And plain the home you've come to share ; 
 But happy love's a fairy king. 
 And sheds a grace on every thing.
 
 CO 6UNGS AND BALLADS. 
 
 THE BOATMAN OF KINSALE. 
 
 AiH — An Cvta Cuol. 
 
 His kiss is sweet, his word ia kind. 
 
 His love is rich to me ; 
 I could not in a palace find 
 
 A truer heart than he. 
 The eagle shelters not his nest 
 
 From hurricane and hail. 
 Mure bravely than he guards my bretist — 
 
 The Boatman of Kinsale. 
 
 II. 
 
 The wind that round the Fastnet sweeps 
 
 Is not a whit more pure — 
 The goat that down Cnoc Sheehy leaps 
 
 Has not a foot more sure. 
 No firmer hand nor fi'eer eye 
 
 E'er faced an Autumn gale — 
 De Courcy 's heart is not so liigh — 
 
 The Boatman of Kinsale.
 
 TUIS BOATMAN OF KINSALE. 61 
 
 III. 
 
 The brawling squires may heed him not. 
 
 The dainty stranger sneer — 
 But who will dare to hurt our cot, 
 
 When ]\Iyles O'Hea is here. 
 The scarlet soldiers pass along — 
 
 They'd like, but fear to rail — 
 His blood is hot, his blow is strong — 
 
 The Boatman of Kinsale. 
 
 IV. 
 
 His hooker's in the Scilly van. 
 
 When seines are in the foam ; 
 But money never made the man, 
 
 Nor wealth a happy home. 
 So, blest with love and liberty, 
 
 While he can trim a sail. 
 He'll trust in God, and cling to lue — 
 
 The Boatman of Kinsale.
 
 62 SONGS AND BALLADS. 
 
 DARLING NELL. 
 
 Why should not I take her uuto my heart ? 
 She has not a morsel of guile or art ; 
 Wliy should not I make lier my happy ynie, 
 And love her and cherish her all my life ? 
 I've met with a few of as sliiuing eyes, 
 I've met with a hundred of wilder sighs, 
 I think I met some whom I loved as well — 
 But none who loved me like my Darling Nell. 
 
 She's ready to cry when I seem imklnd, 
 But she smothers her grief within her mind ; 
 And when my spirit is soft and fond, 
 She sparkles the brightest of stars beyond. 
 Oh 1 'twould teach the thrushes to hear her sing. 
 And her sorrow the heart of a rock would wring 5 
 There never was saint but would leave his cell, 
 If he thought he could marry my Darling Nell I
 
 LOVE CHAUNT. 63 
 
 LOVE CHAUNT. 
 
 L 
 
 I THINK I've looked on eyes that shone 
 
 With equal splendour, 
 And some, but they are dimmed and gone, 
 
 As wildly tender. 
 I never looked on eyes that shed 
 
 Such home-light mingled Trith such beauty,- 
 That 'mid aU lights and shadows said, 
 " I love and trust and will be true to ye." 
 II. 
 I've seen some lips almost as red, 
 
 A form as stately ; 
 And some such beauty turned my head 
 
 Not very lately. 
 But not till now I've seen a girl 
 
 With form so proud, lips so delicious. 
 
 With hair like night, and teeth of pearl, 
 
 Who was not haughty and capricious. 
 III. 
 Oh, fairer than the dawn of day 
 
 On Erne's islands ! 
 Oh, purer than the thorn spray 
 
 In Bantry's highlands ! 
 In sleep such visions crossed my view. 
 
 And when I woke the phantom faded ; 
 But now I find the fancy true. 
 And fairer than the vision made it.
 
 fi4 SONGS AND BALLADS 
 
 A CHRISTMAS SCENE; 
 
 OR, LOVE IN THE COUNTRY. 
 I. 
 
 The hill blast comes howling through leaf-rifted trees. 
 That late were as harp-strings to each gentle breeze ; 
 The strangers and cousins and every one flown. 
 While we sit happy -hearted — together — alone. 
 
 Some are off to the mountain, and some to the fair. 
 The snow is on their cheek, on mine your black hair; 
 Papa with his farming is busy to-day. 
 And mamma's too good-natured to ramble thia waj. 
 
 III. 
 
 The girls are gone — are they not ? — into town. 
 To fetch bows and bonnets, perchance a beau, down ; 
 Ah ! tell them, dear Kate, 'tis not fair to coquette — 
 Thougli you, you bold lassie, are fond of it yet 1 
 
 IV. 
 
 You're not — do you say ? — ^just remember last night, 
 You gave Harry a rose, and you dubbed liim your knight ; 
 Poor lad 1 if he loved you — but no, darling ! no, 
 You're too thoughtful and good to fret any one so.
 
 CHRISTMAS SCENE. 65 
 
 The painters are raving of light and of shade. 
 And Harry, the poet, of lake, hill, and glade ; 
 While tlie light of your eye, and your soft wavy form 
 Suit a proser like me, by the hearth bright and warm. 
 
 The snow on those hills is uncommonly grand. 
 But, you know, Kate, it's not half so white as your hand j 
 And say what you will of the grey Christmas sky, 
 Still I slightly prefer my dark girl's grey eye. 
 
 Be quiet, and sing me " The Bonny Cuckoo," 
 Tor it bids us the summer and winter love through,— 
 And then I'll read out an old ballad that shews 
 How Tyranny perished, and Liberty rose. 
 
 My KiJte ! I'm so happy, your voice whispers soft, 
 And your cheek flushes wilder from kissing so oft ; 
 For town or for country, for mountains or fivrms, 
 Wtat care I? — My darling's entwined in my arms. 
 
 Bii
 
 66 SONGS AND BALLADS. 
 
 THE INVOCATION 
 
 Air. — Fanny Power. 
 
 Bright fairies by Glengariff's bay, 
 Soft woods that o'er Killarney sway, 
 Bold echoes born in Ceim-an-eich, 
 
 Your kinsman's greeting hear ! 
 He asks you, by old friendship's name, 
 By all the rights that minstrels claim, 
 For Erin's joy and Desmond's fame, 
 
 Be kind to Eanny dear ! 
 
 Her eyes are darker than Duuloe, 
 Her soul is whiter than the snow, 
 Her tresses like arbutus flow, 
 
 Her step like frighted deer : 
 Then, still thy waves, capricious lake ! 
 And ceaseless, soft winds, round her wake. 
 Yet never bring a cloud to break 
 
 The smile of Fanny dear !
 
 THE INVOCATION. 67 
 
 Oh 1 let her see the trance-bound ojen, 
 And kiss the red deer in his den. 
 And spy from out a hazel glen 
 
 O'Donoghue appear ; — 
 Or, should she roam by wild Dunbwy, 
 Oh ! send the maiden to her knee, 
 I sung whilome, * — but then, ah ! me, 
 
 I knew not Fanny dear I 
 
 IV. 
 
 Old Mangerton ! thine eagles plume — 
 Dear Innisfallen 1 brighter bloom — 
 And Mucruss ! whisper thro' the gloom 
 
 Quaint legends to her ear ; 
 Till strong as ash-tree in its pride, 
 And gay as sunbeam on the tide, 
 "We welcome back to Liffey's side. 
 
 Our brightest, Fanny dear. 
 
 * Vide ante, page 42
 
 6S BONOS AND BALLADS. 
 
 LOVE AND WAR. 
 
 How soft is the moon on Glengariff ! 
 
 The rocks seem to melt with the light ; 
 Oh ! would I were there with dear Fanny, 
 
 To tell her that lore is as bright ; 
 And nobly the sun of July 
 
 O'er the waters of Adragoole shines — 
 Oh ! would that I saw the green banner 
 
 Blaze there over conquering lines. 
 
 Oh ! lore is more fair than the moonlight. 
 
 And glory more grand than the sun ; 
 And there is no rest for a brave heart, 
 
 Till its bride and its laurels are won ; 
 But next to the burst of our banner, 
 
 And the smUe of dear Fanny, I crave 
 The moon on the rocks of Glengavilf — 
 
 The sun upon Adragoole's wave.
 
 MY LAND. 
 
 MY LAND. 
 
 I. 
 
 She is a rich and rare land ; 
 Oh ! she's a fresh and fair land ; 
 She is a dear and rare land — 
 This native land of mine. 
 
 II. 
 
 No men than her's are braver — • 
 Her women's hearts ne'er waver j 
 I'd freely die to save her, 
 . And think my lot divine. 
 
 III. 
 
 She's not a dull or cold land ; 
 No ! she's a warm and bold land ; 
 Oh ! she's a true and old land — 
 
 This native land of mine. 
 IV. 
 Could beauty ever guard her, 
 And virtue still reward her. 
 No foe would cross her border — 
 
 No friend within it pine I 
 
 V. 
 
 Oh, she's a fresh and fair land ; 
 Oh, she's a true and rare land I 
 Yes, she's a rare and fair land — 
 This native land of mine.
 
 60NGS AND GALLADB. 
 
 THE RIGHT ROAD. 
 I. 
 
 Let the feeble-hearted pine. 
 Let the sickly spirit whine, 
 But work and wia be thine, 
 
 Wliile you've life. 
 
 God smiles upon the bold 
 
 So, when your flag's unrolled, 
 Bear it bravely till you're cold 
 
 Li the strife. 
 II. 
 If to rank or fame you soar. 
 Out your spirit frankly pour — 
 Men will serve you and adore, 
 
 Like a king. 
 Woo your girl with honest pride. 
 Till you've won her for your bride — 
 Then to her, through time and tide, 
 
 Ever cling. 
 
 III. 
 
 Never under wrongs despair ; 
 Labour long, and everywhere. 
 Link your countrymen, prepare, 
 
 And strike home. 
 Thus have great men ever wrought. 
 Thus must greatness stUl be sought. 
 Thus laboured, loved, and fought 
 
 Greece and Rome-
 
 PART III. 
 
 HISTORICAL 
 BALLADS AND SONGS, 
 
 £lt»t Scrfcs.
 
 " Tma country of ours Is no sand-bank, thrown up tiy some lecent 
 caprice of earth. It Is an ancient land, honoured in the archives of 
 civUiaatlon, traceahle into antiquity hy its piety, its valour, and its suf- 
 ferings. Every great Emopean race has sent its stream to the river of 
 Irish mind. Long wars, vast organisations, subtle codes, beacon 
 trimes, leading virtues, and self-mighty men were here. If we live 
 Influenced by wind, and sun, and tree, and not by the passions and 
 deeds of the Past, we are a thriftless and hopeless people." 
 
 Davis's Essays.
 
 BALLADS AND SONGS 
 
 ILLUSTKATIVE OP 
 
 IRISH HISTORY. 
 
 A NATION ONCE AGAIN. *(«) 
 
 When boyhood's fire was in my blood, 
 
 I read of ancieat fceemen. 
 For Greeco and Kome who bravely stood, 
 
 Three Hundred men and Three men .(*/ 
 And then I prayed I yet might see 
 
 Our fetters rent in twain, 
 And Ireland, long a province, be 
 
 A Nation once again. 
 
 * This little poem, though not strictly belonging to the historical 
 class, is placed first ; as striking; more distinctly than any other in the 
 collection, the l<ey-note of the author's theme. — Ed. 
 
 (a) Set to original music in the " Sphit of the Nation," 4to. p. 272i 
 Ed. 
 
 (6) The Three Hundred Greeks who died jit ThermopyliB, and the 
 Three Romans who Kept the Sublici;in Bridge. — Author's Note. 
 F
 
 74. HISTORICAL BALLADS. 
 
 n. 
 
 And, from that time, through -wildest vfoe^ 
 
 That hope has shone, a far light ; 
 Nor could love's brightest summer glow 
 
 Outshine that solemn starliglA . 
 It seemed to watch above my head 
 
 In forum, field, and fane ; 
 Its angel voice sang round my bed, 
 
 "A Nation once again." 
 
 It whispered, too, that "freedom's ark 
 
 And service high and holy, 
 Would be profaned by feelings dark 
 
 And passions vain or lowly : 
 For freedom comes from God's right hand., 
 
 And needs a godly train ; 
 And righteous men must make our land 
 
 A Nation once again." 
 
 IV. 
 
 So, as I grew from boy to man, 
 
 I bent me to that bidding — 
 My spirit of each selfish plan 
 
 And cruel passion ridding ; 
 For, thus I hoped some day to aid — 
 
 Oh ! can sicch hope be vain ? — 
 When my dear country shall be mado 
 
 A Nation once again.
 
 LAMENT FOR THE MILESIANS. 75 
 
 LAMENT FOR THE MILESIANS. 
 
 Air — A71 bruach na carraige bdine.(c) 
 
 I. 
 Oh ! proud were the chieftains of green Inis-Fail 
 
 ^s truaqh gan oidhir 'n-a hh-farradh 1(b) 
 The stars of our sky, and the salt of our soil ; 
 
 As truagh gan oidhir 'n-a bh-farradh ! 
 Their hearts were as soft as a child in tlie lap, 
 Yet they were ' ' the men in the gap" — 
 And noAv tliat the cold clay their limbs doth enwrap ; — 
 
 As truagh gan oidhir 'n-a bh-farradh I 
 
 II. 
 
 'Gainst England long battling, at length they went down ; 
 
 As truagh gan oidhir 'n-a bh-farradh I 
 But they left their deep tracks on the road of renown ; 
 
 As truagh gan oidhir 'n-a bh-farradh I 
 We are heirs of their fame, if we're not of their race, — 
 And deadly and deep oiir disgrace, 
 If we live o'er their sepulchres, abject and base ; 
 
 As truagh gan oidhir 'n-a bh-farradh ! 
 
 (a) Set to this beautiful Tippcrary air in tlie " Spirit of the Kation," 
 4to. p. 2S6. For the meaning, &c., of thiri, and all the oOier Irisii 
 phrases which occur iliroughout the volume, vide Glossaky at tho 
 end. — Ed. 
 
 (6) " That is pity, without heir in their company," i. e. What a pity 
 that there is no heir of tlieir company. See the poem of GloUa losa 
 Mor Mac FirbisisU in The Genealogies, Tribes, and Customs of the Ui 
 FiacJiracIi, or O'Bublula's Country, printed for the Irish Arcli . Soc. p. 
 230, line 2, and note d. Also GReilly's Diet, voce^arradh. — Author's 
 Noa-E.
 
 ro 
 
 niSTORICAL BALLADS. 
 
 111. 
 
 Oh ! sweet were the mmstrels of Icind Inis-Fail ! 
 
 As truagli gan oidhir 'n-a hh-farradh ! 
 "Vvliosa music, nor ages uor sorrow can spoil ; 
 
 As truagh gan oidhir 'n-a bh-farradh ! 
 But their sad stifled tones are like streams flo\ring hid* 
 Their caoineW and their pioprachtC') were cliid, 
 And their language, " that melts into music," forbid; 
 
 As truagh gan oidhir 'n-a bh-farradh I 
 
 IV. 
 
 How fair were the maidens of fair Inis-Fail! 
 
 As truagh gan oidhir 'n-a bh-farradh I 
 As fresh and as free as the sea-breeze from soil 
 
 As truagh gan oidhir 'n-a bh-farradh J 
 Oh ! are not our maidens as fair and as pure ? 
 Can our music no longer allure ? 
 And can we hut sob, as such wrongs we endure? 
 
 As truagh gan oidhir 'n-a bh-farradh I 
 
 V. 
 
 Their famous, their holy, their dear Inis-Fail I 
 jls truagh gan oidhir 'n-a bh-farradh I 
 
 Shall it still be a prey for the stranger to spoil ? 
 As truagh gan oidhir 'n-a bhfarradh I 
 
 Sure, brave men would labour by night and by day 
 
 To banisli that stranger away ; 
 
 Or, dying for Ireland, the future would say 
 
 As truagh gan oidhir 'n-a bh-farradh ! 
 
 (<j) AngJkc, keen. (6) Annl. pibroch.
 
 THE FATE OF KING DATHI. 
 
 Oh ! shame — for unchanged is the face of our isle ; 
 
 As truagh gan oidliir 'n-a bh-farradh ! 
 That taught them to battle, to sing, and to smile ; 
 
 As truagh gan oidhir 'n-a bh-farradh ! 
 We are heirs of their rivers, their sea, and their land, — 
 Our sky and our mountains as grand — 
 "We are heirs — oh ! we're not — of their heart and their hand ; 
 
 As truagh gan oidhir 'n-a bh-farradh I 
 
 THE TATE OF KING DATHI.(a) 
 (a.d. 428.) (&) 
 
 Darkly their glibs o'erhang, 
 Sharp is their wolf-dog's fang, 
 Bronze spear and falchion clang — 
 
 Brave men might slum them f 
 Heavy the spoil they bear — 
 Jewels and gold are there — 
 Hostage and maiden fair — 
 
 How have they won them ? 
 
 (a) This ancT the remaining poems in Part I. have 'been arranged aa 
 nearly as possible in chronological sequence. — Eb. 
 
 (b) Vide Appendix.
 
 7S IHSTOIIICAL BALLADS. 
 
 n. 
 
 From the soft sons of Gaul, 
 Roman, and Frank, and thrall. 
 Borough, and hut, and hall, — 
 
 These have been torn. 
 Over Britannia Avide, 
 Over fair Gaul they hied, 
 Often in battle tried, — 
 
 Enemies mourn ! 
 
 III. 
 
 Fiercely their harpers sing, — • 
 Led by their gallant king, 
 They will to Eire bring 
 
 Beauty and treasure. 
 Britain shall bend the knee — 
 Rich shall their households be — 
 "When their loug sliips the sea 
 
 Homeward shall measure. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Barrow and Rath shall rise, 
 Towers, too, of wondrous size, 
 Tdiltin they'll solemnize, 
 
 Feis- Teamhrach assemble. 
 Samhaiu and Beal shall smile 
 On the rich holy isle — 
 Nay ! in a little while 
 
 ffitius shall tremble !(«) 
 
 (a) The consul CEtius, the shield cf Italy, and teiTor of "the barba- 
 rliin,'' was a cotemporary of King Dathi. Fei-i-TacumJu-acli, the Parliament
 
 THE FATE OF KINei DATHI. 79 
 
 V. 
 
 Up on the glacier's snow, 
 Down on the vales below. 
 Monarch and clansmen go — 
 
 Bright is the morning. 
 Never their march they slack, 
 Jura is at their back, 
 "When falls the evening black. 
 
 Hideous, and warning. 
 
 VI. 
 Eagles scream loud on high ; 
 Far off the chamois fly ; 
 Hoarse comes the torrent's cry. 
 
 On the rocks whitening. 
 Strong are the storm's wings ; 
 Down the tall pine it flings ; 
 Hail-stone and sleet it brings — 
 
 Thunder and liglitning. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Little these veterans mind 
 Thundering, haU, or wind ; 
 Closer their ranks they bind — 
 
 Matching the storm. 
 While, a spear-cast or more. 
 On, the front ranks before, 
 Dathi the sunburst bore — 
 
 Haughty his form. 
 
 of Tara. Tailtin, games held at Tailte, county Meatii. SanOiain and 
 Beat, the moon and sun which Ireland worsliipped.— Author's Noth,
 
 80 HISTORICAL BALLADS. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Forth from the thunder-cloud 
 Leaps out a foe as proud — 
 Sudden the monarch bowed — 
 
 On rush the vanguard ; 
 Wildly the king they raise — 
 Struck by the lightning's blaze — 
 Ghastly his dying gaze, 
 
 Clutclungliis standard ! 
 
 Mild is the morning beam, 
 Gently the rivers stream, 
 Happy the valleys seem ; 
 
 But the lone islanders — 
 Mark how they guard their king j 
 Hark, to the wail they sing ! 
 Dark is their counselling — 
 
 Helvetia's highlanders 
 
 Gather, like ravens, near — 
 Shall Dathi's soldiers fear ? 
 Soon their liome-path they clear — 
 
 Rapid and daring ; 
 On tlirough the pass and plain. 
 Until the shore they gain, 
 And, with their spoil, again, 
 
 Landed iu Eiuinn.
 
 THE FATE OF KING DATHI. 81 
 
 Little does EireC") care 
 
 For gold or m?aden fair — 
 
 " Where is King Dathi ? — ^Avhere. 
 
 Where is my bravest ?" 
 On the rich deck he lies, 
 O'er him his sunburst flies- 
 Solemn the obsequies, 
 
 Eire ! thou gavest. 
 
 xir. 
 See ye that countless train 
 Crossing Ros-Comain'sC*> plain. 
 Crying, like hurricane, 
 
 Uile liu ai? — 
 Broad is his corn's base — 
 Nigh the " King's burial-place, "(«) 
 Last of the Pagan race, 
 
 Lieth King Dathi 1 
 
 (a) The true ancienl and modern name of this island. Vide Glos- 
 BABY in voc. — Ed. 
 
 (b) Angl. Roscommon. 
 
 (c) Bibernke, Koilig na Riogh, vulgo, Relignaxce — " A famous bnrial 
 place near Cruaclian, in Connacht, where the kings were usually in- 
 terrefl, before the establishment of tlie Christian religion in Ireland."— 
 O'Brien's Ir. Did. 
 
 rS
 
 82 HISTORICAL BALLADS, 
 
 ARGAN m6e.(«) 
 Air — Argan Mor. 
 
 Ta:B Danes rush around, around ; 
 To the edge of the fosse they bound ; 
 Hark ! hark, to their trumpets' sound. 
 
 Bidding tliem to tlie war 
 Hark ! hark to their cruel cry, 
 As they swear our hearts' cores to dry, 
 And their Raven red to dye ; 
 
 Glutting their demon, Thor, 
 
 Leaping the Eath upon, 
 
 Here's the fiery Ceallachan — 
 
 He makes the Lochlonnach(6) wan. 
 
 Lifting his brazen spear ! 
 Ivor, the Dane, is struck down. 
 For the spear broke right through his crown j 
 Yet worse did the battle frown — 
 
 Anlaf is on our rercl 
 
 (c) Tide Appendix. {h) Korilimeii, — vide Glossaw.
 
 ARGAN JluR. 83 
 
 See ! see ! the Eath's gates are broke I 
 And in — in, like a cloud of smoke. 
 Burst on the dark Danish folk, 
 
 Charging us everywhere — • 
 Oh, never was closer fight 
 Than in Argan M6r that night — 
 How little do men want light, 
 
 Fighting within their lair 
 
 Then girding about our king. 
 
 On the thick of the foes we spring — 
 
 Down — down we trample and fling. 
 
 Gallantly though tliey strive ; 
 And never our falchions stood. 
 Till we were all wet with their blood. 
 And none of the pirate brood 
 
 Went from the Bath alivo !
 
 84 HISTORICAL BALLAOf? 
 
 THE VICTOR'S BURIAL. 
 I. 
 
 Wkap him iu his banner, the best sliroud of the 
 
 brave — 
 "Wi-ap him iu his o7ichu,{a) and take him to his grave — 
 Lay him not down lowly, like bulwark overthrown, 
 But, gallantly upstanding, as if risen from his throne, 
 With his craiseacW') iu his hand, and his sword on his 
 
 thigh, 
 With his war-belt on his waist, and his cathbharric) on 
 
 high — 
 Put his JieasgW upon his neck — his green flag round 
 
 him fold, 
 Like ivy round a castle waU — not conq^uered, but groAvn 
 
 old— 
 'Mhuire as truagh I A mhuire as truagh I A mhuire 
 
 as truagh ! o-ihnn !\e) 
 Weep for him ! Oh ! weep for him, but remember, in 
 
 yoar moan. 
 That he died, in his pride. — with his foes about liim 
 
 strown. 
 
 II. 
 Oh shrine liim iu Beinn-Edairf/J witli his face towards 
 
 the foe. 
 As i'.n emblem that not death our defiance can lay 
 
 low — 
 
 (a) FUig. (6) Spear. (c) Helmet. id) Collar. 
 
 («) Anglice, WiiTastUrue, odione! (/) Howth.
 
 THE TRUE IRISH KIXG. 85 
 
 Let him look across the waves from the promontory's 
 
 breast, 
 To menace back The East, and to sentinel The West ; 
 Sooner sliall these channel waves the iron coast cut 
 
 through. 
 Than the spirit he has left, yield, Easterlings ! to you— 
 Let his coffin be the hill, let the eagles of the sea 
 Chorus "with the surges round, the tuireamh(^j of the 
 
 free ! 
 'Mhuirc as Iruagh ! A mkuire as truagh I A mhuire 
 
 as truagh I ochon I 
 Weep for him ! Oli ! weep for him, but remember, in 
 
 your moan, 
 That he died, in his pride, — with his foes about him 
 
 strown ! 
 
 THE TRUE IRISH KING.(6^ 
 
 The Caesar of Rome has a wider demesne, 
 
 And i\\.QArd Righ of France lias more clans in his train ; 
 
 The sceptre of Spain is more heavy with gems. 
 
 And our crowns cannot vie with the Greek diadems ; 
 
 But kinglier far before heaven and man 
 
 Are the Emerald fields, and the fiery-eyed clan, 
 
 The sceptre, and state, and the poets who sing. 
 
 And the swords that encircle A True Irish King 1 
 
 («) A masculine lament- (6) Vide AppeniTix.
 
 8G HISTORICAL BALLADS. 
 
 For, lie must have come from a conquering race — 
 The heir of their valour, their glory, their grace : 
 His frame must be stately, his step must be fleet, 
 His hand must be trained to each vt^arrior feat, 
 Ilis face, as the harvest moon, steadfjist and clear, 
 A head to enlighten, a sph-it to cheer; 
 ■\7hile the foremost to rush where the battle-brands ring, 
 And the last to retreat is A True Irish King ! 
 
 Yet, not for his courage, his strength, or his name, 
 Can he from the clansmen their fealty claim. 
 The poorest, and liighest, choose freely to-day 
 The chief, that to-night, they'll as truly obey ; 
 ?ov loyalty springs from a people's consent, 
 Vnd the knee that is forced had been better unbcnt-- 
 rhe Sacsanach .serfs no such liomage can bring 
 As the Irishmen's choice of A True Irish King ! 
 
 Come, look on the pomp when they "make an O'Neill ; 
 The muster of dynasts — O'h- Again, O'Shiadhail, 
 O'Cathain, 0'h-Anluain,(«) O'Bhreislein, and all, 
 From gentle Aird Uladh(6) to rude Diin na n-gall :(«) 
 
 (a) Angl. CHaRan, O'Shiel, O'Cnhaii, or Kane, O'Hanlon. 
 (t) Angl The Ards. Cc) Angl. Donegal
 
 THE TRUE IRISH KING. 87 
 
 "St. Patrick's comharba,"(a) with bishops tliirtccn, 
 Andollamhsi^) andbreitheamhs,(<^) and minstrels, areseen 
 Round Tulach-Og('') Eath, lilce the bees in the spring, 
 All s-vrarming to honour A True Irish King ! 
 
 Unsandalled he stands on the foot-dinted rock ; 
 Like a pillar-stone fixed against every shock. ' 
 Round, round is the Rath on a far-seeing liill ; 
 Like his blemishless honour, and vigilant will. 
 The grey-beards are telling how chiefs by the score 
 Have been crowned on " The Rath of the Kings" here- 
 tofore. 
 While, croAvded, yet ordered, within its green ring, 
 Axe thedynasts and priests round The True Irish King 1 
 
 VI. 
 
 Tlie chronicler read him the laws of tlie clan, 
 And pledged him to bide by their blessing and ban ; 
 His skian and his sword are unbuckled to show 
 That they only were meant for a foreigner foe ; 
 A white willow wand has been put in his hand — 
 A type of pure, upright, and gentle command — 
 While hierarclis are blessing, the slipper they fling, 
 And O'Cathain proclaims him A True Irish King ! 
 
 (a) Successor — ccmharba Phadrmg — ^the Arclibishop of (^Ard-macJid) 
 Armagh 
 
 (6) Doctora or learned men. (c) Judges. Amjl. Erehons. 
 
 (<Z) In the county ( Tir Eop/iain) Tyrone, between CookstWvn and 
 StevvartstowTi.
 
 HISTORICAL BALLADS. 
 
 Thrice looked he to Heaven with thanks and with 
 
 prayer — 
 Thrice looked to his borders with sentinel stare — 
 To the waves of Loch n-Eathach,(a) the heights of Srath- 
 
 bhau;(6) 
 And thrice on his allies, and thrice on his clan — 
 One clash on their bucklers ! — one more ! — they are still— 
 What niiians the deep pause on the crest of the hill ? 
 Why gaze they above him ? — a war-eagle's wing ! 
 " 'Tis an om'en ! — Hurrah ! for The True Irish King !" 
 
 VIIL 
 
 God aid him 1 — God save him ! — and smile on his reign — 
 
 The terror of England — the ally of Spain. 
 
 May his sword be triumphant o'er Sacsanach arts ! 
 
 Be his throne ever girt by strong hands, and true hearts ! 
 
 May the course of his conquest run on till he see 
 
 The flag of Plantagenet sink in tlie sea ! 
 
 May minstrels for ever his victories sing. 
 
 And saints make the bed of The True Irlsh Kino I 
 
 (c) Am/l Lough Neagh. fh) Angl. ,^trabane.
 
 THK GERALDINE8. 89 
 
 THE GERALDINES 
 
 The Geraldines ! the Geraldines ! — 'tis fiili a thousand 
 
 years 
 Since, ■mid the Tuscan vineyards, bright flaslied their 
 
 battle-spears ; 
 When Capet seized the crown of France, their iron 
 
 sliields were known, 
 And their sabre-dint struclc terror on the banks of the 
 
 Garonne : 
 Across the downs of Hastings they spurred hard by 
 
 William's side, 
 And the grey sands of Palestine with Moslem blood they 
 
 dyed ; — 
 But never then, nor thence, till now, have falsehood or 
 
 disgrace 
 Been seen to soil Fitzgerald's plume, or mantle in his 
 
 face.
 
 no HISTORICAL BALLAnS. 
 
 The Geraldiues ! the Geraldines ! — *tis true, in Strong- 
 bow's van. 
 
 By lawless force, as conquerors, their Irish reign be- 
 gan; 
 
 And, oh ! through many a dark campaign they proved 
 their prowess stern, 
 
 In Lcinster's plains, and Munster's vales, on king, and 
 chief, and kerne : 
 
 But noble was the cheer within the halls so rudely 
 won, 
 
 And generous was the steel-gloved hand that had such 
 slaughter done ; 
 
 How gay their laugh, how proud their mien, you'd ask 
 no herald's sign — 
 
 Among a thousand you had known the princely Geral- 
 dine. 
 
 These Geraldines '.'these Geraldines! — not long our air 
 
 they breathed ; 
 Not long they fed on venison, in Irish water seethed ; 
 Not often had their children been by Irish mothers 
 
 nursed, 
 When from their full and genial hearts an Irish feeling 
 
 burst I
 
 THE GERALDINE8. 91 
 
 The English monarchs strove in vain, by law, and force, 
 
 and bribe. 
 To win from Irish thoughts and ways this " more than 
 
 Irish" tribe ; 
 For still they chmg to fosterage, to breitheamh, cloak, 
 
 and bard : 
 What king dare say to Geraldine, "your Irish wife 
 
 discard" ? 
 
 IV. 
 
 Ye Geraldines ! ye Geraldines ! — ^how royally ye reigned 
 O'er Desmond broad, and rich Kildare, and English 
 
 arts disdained : 
 Your sword made knights, your banner waved, free was 
 
 your bugle call 
 By Gleann's(«) green slopes, and Daingean's(6) tide, from 
 
 Bearblia's(c) banks to E6chaill.(a> 
 What gorgeous shrines, what breUheamk(e) lore, what 
 
 minstrel feasts there were 
 In and around Magh Nuadhaid's(/) keep, and palace- 
 filled Adare ! 
 But not for rite or feast ye sta3'ed, when friend or Ida 
 
 wore pressed ; 
 And foemen fled, when ^'CromAbu'i!/) bespoke your 
 
 lance in rest. 
 
 (a) Avgl. Glyn. (h) Angl Dingle. (c) Aval Barrow. 
 
 d) Angl. Yoiaghal. (e) Ang'i. Brchon. (/) Angl. Slaynooth. 
 
 (g) Foimerly the war crj- of tlio Geraldines; and now their motto, 
 Vide Gi.ossAKV in voa.
 
 92 
 
 HISTORICAL BALLADS. 
 
 V. 
 
 Ye Geraldiues! ye Geraldines! — since Silken Thomas 
 
 flung 
 King Henry's sword on council board, the English 
 
 thanes among, 
 Ye never ceased to battle brave against the English 
 
 sway, 
 Though axe and brand and treachery your proudest cut 
 
 away. 
 Of Desmond's blood, through woman's veins passed on 
 
 th' exhausted tide ; 
 His title lives — a Sacsanach churl usurps the lion's hide : 
 And, though Kildare tower haughtily, there's ruin at 
 
 the root. 
 Else why, since Edward fell to earth, had such a tree no 
 
 fruit ? 
 
 True Geraldines ! brave Geraldines ! — as torrents mould 
 
 the earth. 
 You channelled deep old Ireland's heart by constancy 
 
 and worth : 
 When Ginclile 'leaguered Limerick, the Irish soldiers 
 
 gazed 
 To see if in the setting sun dead Desmond's banner 
 
 blazed I
 
 THE GERALDINES. 
 
 93 
 
 And still it is the peasants' hope upon the Cuirreach'sC*) 
 mere, 
 
 ••They live, who'll see ten thousand men with good 
 Lord Edward here" — 
 
 So let them dream till brighter days, when, not by Ed- 
 ward's sliade. 
 
 But by some leader true as he, their lines shall be 
 arrayed ! 
 
 VII. 
 
 These Geraldines ! these Grcraldines ! — rain wears away 
 
 the rock, 
 And time may wear away the tribe that stood the 
 
 battle's shock, 
 But, ever, sure, while one is left of all that honoured 
 
 race, 
 In front of Ireland's chivalry is that Fitzgerald's place : 
 And, though the last were dead and gone, how many a 
 
 field and town. 
 From Thomas Court to Abbeyfeile, would cherish their 
 
 renown, 
 And men would say of valour's rise, or ancient power'3 
 
 decline, 
 •• Twill never soar, it never shone, as did the Geral- 
 
 dme." 
 
 (a) Angt Currn^b.
 
 94 HISTORICAL BALLADS. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Tlie Geraldiiies 1 the Geraldiues ! — and are there any 
 
 fears 
 Witliin the sons of conquerors for full a thousand years ? 
 Can treason spring from out a soil bedewed with martyr's 
 
 "olood ? 
 Or has that grown a purling brook, which long rushed 
 
 down a flood ? — 
 By Desmond swept with sword and fire, — by clan and 
 
 kee]3 laid low, — 
 By Silken Thomas and liis kin, — ^by sainted Edward 1 
 
 No! 
 The forms of centuries rise up. and in the Irish line 
 
 OOMBIAND THEIR SON TO TAKE THE POST THAT FITS 
 THE GeRAIJJINK 'J "^ 
 
 (a) The concluding stanza, now flrst publisUed, was fonnd aracag 
 the autlior's papers. — Ed.
 
 o'brikn of ara. 95 
 
 O'BRIEN OF ARA.(«) 
 Air — The Piper of Blessington. 
 
 Tall are the towers of O'Ceinneidigh — (b) 
 
 Broad are the lands of MacCarrthaigh — («J 
 Desmond feeds five hundred men a-day ; 
 Yet, "here's to 0'Briain((i) of Ara I 
 
 Up from the Castle of Druim-aniar,(<;) 
 
 Down from the top of Camailte, 
 Clansman and kinsman are coming here 
 To give liim the cead mile failtk. 
 
 u. 
 
 See you the mountains look huge at eve — 
 
 So is our chieftain in battle — 
 "Welcome he has for the fugitive, — 
 
 Uisce-beatha,(f) fighting, and cattle! 
 
 (a) Ara Is a small mountain tract, south of Loch Deirgdheirc, and 
 north of the Camailte (t^M?(?o the Keeper) hUls. It was the seat of a ' 
 branch of the Thomond piinces, called the O'Briens of Ara, who 
 hold an important place in the Srunster Annals. — Adtiiok's Notb. 
 
 (6) Vulgo, OKennedy. (c) Vul M-Cartliy. (d) Vul. O'Brien. 
 
 (e) Vul Dnimineer. (/) Vul. Usquebaugh.
 
 ■)(i HISTORICAL BALLAWe. 
 
 Up from tlie Castle of Druim-aniar, 
 Down from the top of Camailte, 
 
 Gossip and ally are coming liere 
 To give him the cead mile failte. 
 
 Horses the vallej's are tramping on, 
 
 Sleek from the Sacsauach manger — 
 Creachs the hills are er.oamping on, 
 Empty the hans of the stranger ! 
 
 Up from the Castle of Druim-aniar, 
 
 Down from the top of Camaiito, 
 Ceithearnit^) and buannacht are coming here 
 To give him the cead wile failte. 
 
 IV. 
 
 He has black silver from Cill-da-lua(6) — 
 
 Iiian(«) and Cearbhall(<^) are neighbours — 
 'N Aonach(eJ submits with afuiliUu — 
 Butler is meat for our sabres ! 
 
 Up from Ihe Castle of Druim-aniar, 
 
 Down from the top of Camailte, 
 Rian and Cearbhall are coming here 
 To give him the cead mile failte. 
 
 (ft) Vulffo, Kerne. (b) Vul Eillaloe. (c) Vul. Kyan. 
 
 (,(/) Vul Can-oil. (e) Vul. Xenngh.
 
 O'BRIEN OF ARA. 97 
 
 Tis scarce a week since through Osairghe(«) 
 
 Chased he the Baron of Durmhagh — (*) 
 Forced him five rivers to cross, or he 
 Had died by the sword of Eed Murchadii I(<) 
 Up from the Castle of Druim-aniar, 
 
 Down from the top of Camailte, 
 All the Ui Bhriain are coming here 
 To give him the cead mile failte. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Tall are the towers of O'Ceinneidigh — 
 
 Broad are the lands of MacCarrthaigh — 
 Desmond feeds five hundred men a-day ; 
 Yet, here's to O'Briain of Ara ! 
 
 Up from the Castle of Druim-aniar, 
 
 Down from the top of Camailte, 
 Clansman and kinsman are coming here 
 To give him the cead mile failte. 
 
 (a) Vvlgo, Ossory. (6) Vul. Dunow. (3) Vul. Murrough.
 
 98 EISTOniCAL BALLADS. 
 
 EMMELINE TALBOT. 
 
 A. BAJ.LAD OF THE PAXE, 
 
 [The Scene is on the borders of Dublin and Wioldow.l 
 I. 
 
 'TwAs a September day — • 
 
 In Glenismole,(a) 
 Emraeline Talbot lay 
 
 On a green knoll. 
 She was a lovely thing, 
 Fleet as a falcon's wing. 
 Only fifteen that spring — 
 
 Soft was her soul. 
 
 Danger and dreamless sleep 
 
 Much did she scorn, 
 And from her father's keep 
 
 Stole out that morn. 
 Towards Glenismole she hies i — 
 Sweetly the valley lies, 
 "Winning the enterprise, — 
 
 No one to warn. 
 
 <a) ^t'ier«tc«,— Gleann-an-smda.
 
 EMMELINE TALBOT. 99 
 
 III. 
 
 Till by the noon, at length, 
 
 High in the vale, 
 Emmeline found her strength 
 
 Suddenly fail. 
 Panting, yet pleasantly. 
 By Dodder-side lay she — 
 ITirushes sang merrily, 
 
 "Hail, sister, hail!" 
 
 IV. 
 
 Hazel and copse of oak 
 
 Made a sweet lawn, 
 Out from the thicket broke 
 
 Eabbit and fawn. 
 Green were the eiscirs round, 
 Sweet was the river's soimd, 
 Eastwards flat Cruach frowned. 
 
 South lay Sliabh Ban. 
 V. 
 Looking round Barnakeel,(<') 
 
 Like a tall Moor 
 Full of impassioned zeal, 
 
 Peeped brown Kippure.C* 
 Dublin in feudal pride. 
 And many a liold beside. 
 Over Finn-ghaill(«.'' preside — 
 
 Sentinels sure ! 
 
 (a) Bib. Ecaraa-chael. (J) Hii. Keap-lfithair. [c) VuJo. Flngal.
 
 1(10 HISTORICAL BALLADS. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Is that a roebuck's eye 
 
 Glares from the green ? — 
 Is that a thrush's cry 
 
 Eings in the screen ? 
 Mountaineers round her sprung, 
 Savage their speech and tongue, 
 Fierce was their chief and youug- 
 Poor Emmeline ? 
 V!I. 
 "Hurrah, 'tis Talbot's child," 
 
 Shouted the kerne, 
 '♦ Off to the mountains wild, 
 
 Fairc,ic^ O'Byrnel" 
 Like a bird in a net. 
 Strove the sweet maiden yet. 
 Praying and shrieking, "Let — 
 Let me return." 
 Vill. 
 After a moment's doubt, 
 
 Forward he sprung. 
 With his sword flashing out- 
 Wrath on his tongue. 
 " Toucli not a hair of her a — 
 Dies he, who finger stirs 1" 
 Back fell his foragers— 
 To him she clung. 
 
 (a) Vulg. I'iirraU.
 
 E3IMELINE TALBOT. 101 
 
 IX. 
 
 Soothing the maiden's fears. 
 
 Kneeling was he, 
 When burst old Talbot's spears 
 
 Out on the lea. 
 March-men, all staunch and stoutj 
 Shouting their Belgard shout — 
 "Down with the Irish rout, 
 
 Prets d'accompUr ."(.") 
 
 X. 
 
 Taken thus unawares, 
 
 Some fled amain — 
 Fighting like forest bears. 
 
 Others were slain. 
 To the chief clung the maid — 
 How could he use his blade ? — 
 That night, upon him weighed 
 
 Fetter and chain. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Oh ! but that night was long, 
 
 Lying forlorn. 
 Since, 'mid the wassail song. 
 
 These words were borne — 
 " Nathless your tears and cries, 
 Sure as the sun shall rise, 
 Connor 0'Byrne(6) dies, 
 
 Talbot has sworn." 
 
 (o) The motto and ciy of the Talbots. (6) ^S. Conchobhar O'BroItt. 
 g3 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 "aNnn=?rSTTY OF CALIFORNTA' 
 
 SANTA BARBARA
 
 102 HISTORICAL BALLADS. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Brightly on Tamhlacht(«) hill 
 
 Flashes the sun ; 
 Strained at his -VTindow-sill, 
 
 How his eyes run 
 From lonely Sagart slade 
 Down to Tigh-bradan glade, 
 Landmarks of border raid, 
 
 Many a one. 
 
 XIII. 
 Too well the captive knows 
 
 Belgard's main wall 
 "Will, to his naked blows. 
 
 Shiver and fall, 
 Ere in his mountain hold 
 He shall again behold 
 Those whose proud hearts are told. 
 
 Weeping his thrall. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 *' Oh ! for a mountain side, 
 Bucklers and brands ! 
 
 Freely I could have died 
 Heading ray bands, 
 
 But on a felon tree" — 
 
 Bearing a fetter key. 
 
 By him all silently 
 
 Erameliae stands. « * 
 
 ((I) Vuly. TaUagUt.
 
 KMMELINE TALBOT, 103 
 
 Late rose the castellan. 
 He had drunk deep, — 
 
 Warder and serving-man 
 Still were asleep, — 
 
 Wide is the castle-gate. 
 
 Open the captive's grate. 
 
 Fetters disconsolate 
 Flung in a heap. • • 
 
 XVI. 
 
 'Tis ail October day, 
 
 Close by Loch Dan 
 Many a creach lay, 
 
 Many a man. 
 'Mongst them, in gallant mien, 
 Connor O'Byrne's seen 
 Wedded to Emmeline? 
 
 Girt by his clan I
 
 104 HISTORICAL BALLADiS. 
 
 O'SULLIVAN'S RETUHN.(o) 
 
 Air — An cruisgin lan.W 
 
 O'SuiLLEBHAiN has come 
 Within sight of his home, — 
 
 He had left it long years ago ; 
 The tears are in his eyes, 
 And he prays the wind to rise, 
 As he looks towards his castle, from the prow, from the 
 
 prow; 
 As he looks towards his castle, from the prow. 
 
 II, 
 
 For the day had been calm. 
 
 And slow the good ship swam. 
 And the evening gun had been fired ; 
 
 He knew the hearts beat wild 
 
 Of mother, wife, and child, 
 And of clang, who to see him long desired, long desired; 
 And of clans, who to see him long desired. 
 
 (a) Vide Appendix. (6) Slow time.
 
 O SULLIVAN S RfiTUKN. 
 
 i05 
 
 Of the tender ones the clasp, 
 Of the gallant ones the grasp, 
 
 He thinks, until his tears fall warm : 
 And full seems his wide hall, 
 With friends from wall to waU, 
 Where their welcome shakes the banners, like a sterna, 
 
 like a storm ; 
 Where their welcome sha'kes the banners like a storm. 
 
 Then he sees another scene — 
 Norman chui'ls on the green — 
 
 " O' Suilleabhdin aha" is the cry ; 
 For filled is his ship's hold 
 With arms and Siianish gold. 
 And he sees the snake-twined spear wave on high, wave 
 
 on high ; 
 And he sees the snake-twined spear wave on high.(«) 
 
 (a) Tlie stnndaa'd bearings of O'Sullivan. See O'Oonovan's edition 
 of the Banquet of Dun na n-Gedh, and the Battle of Magh Rath, for 
 the ArchiEologlcal Society, App. p. 349.—" Bearings of O'Sullivan at 
 the Battle of Caisglinn." 
 
 " I see, mightily advancing on the plain, ' 
 Tlie banner of the race of noble FingUin ; 
 His spear with a venomous adder (entwined). 
 His host all fiery champions." 
 Finghin was one of their most famous progenitors. — Author's Notb.
 
 \(X 
 
 HISTORICAL BALLADS. 
 
 V. 
 
 '•Finghiu's race shall be freed 
 From the Norman's cruel breed — 
 
 My sires freed Bear' once before, 
 Wlien the Barnwells were strewn 
 On the fields, like hay in June, 
 And but one of them escaped from our shore, from ou? 
 
 shore ; 
 And but one of them escaped from our shore."(") 
 
 VI. 
 
 And, warming in his dream. 
 
 He floats on victory's stream, 
 
 Till Desmond— till all Erin is free ! 
 
 Then, how calmly he'll go down. 
 
 Full of yca,rs and of renown, 
 To his grave near that castle by the sea, by the sea ; 
 To his grave near that castle by the sea ! 
 
 VII. 
 
 But the wind heard his word. 
 
 As though he were its lord, 
 
 And the sliip is dashed up the Bay. 
 
 Alas ! for that proud barque, 
 
 The night has fallen dark, 
 'Tis too late to Eadarghabhal(f') to bear away, bear away ; 
 'Tis too late to Eadarghabhal to bear away. 
 
 ■ (a) The Barnwells were Xonnans, who seized part of Eeara in the 
 leign of Henry 11. ; but the O'Sullirans came down on them, and cut
 
 o'srtLIVAN'S RETURN. 107 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Black and rough was the rock, 
 
 And terrible the shock, 
 As the good ship craslied asunder ; 
 
 And bitter was the cry. 
 
 And the sea ran mountains high. 
 And the wind was as loud as the thunder, the thunder ; 
 And the wind was as loud as tlie thunder. 
 
 IX. 
 
 There 's woe in Beara, 
 
 There 's woe in Gleann-garbh, (c) 
 And from Beanntraighef'^junto Dun-kiarain :(<) 
 
 All Desmond hears their grief. 
 
 And wails above their chief — 
 '• Is it thus, is it thus, that you return, you return — 
 Is it thus, is it thus, that you return ?" 
 
 off ail save one — a young man who settled at Drimnagh Castle, Co. 
 Dublin, and was ancestor to the Bamwells, Lords of Trimlestone and 
 
 Eingslond Author's Note. 
 
 (6) Viil. Adragoole. (c) Vul. Glengariff. (d) VuJ. Bmtry. 
 
 '«) Vul. Dunkerron.
 
 108 HISTORICAL BALLADS. 
 
 THK FATE OF THE O'SULLIVANS.fa; 
 
 " A RABY in the mountain gap — 
 
 Oh I wherefore bring it hither? 
 Restore it to it's mother's lap, 
 
 Or else 'twill surely Avither. 
 A baby near the eagle's nest I 
 
 How should their talons spare it ? 
 Oh ! take it to some woman's breast, 
 
 And she will kindly care it." 
 
 (a) After the taking of Dtmbwy and tlie ruin of the O'Siillivan's 
 countiy, the chief marched right through Muskeixy and Ormond, 
 hotly pursued. He crossed tlie Shannon in curachs made of hlfl 
 horses' skins. He then defeated the English forces and slew their 
 commander, Slanby, and finally fought his way Into O'Ruarc's country. 
 During his absence his lady (Beantighearna) and infant were supported 
 in the mountains, by one of his clansmen, M'Swiney, who, ti'adition 
 nays, used to rob the eagles" nests of theu' prey for his charge. O'SuI- 
 iivan was excepted from James the First' s ivnmesty on account of his 
 persevering resistance. He went to Spain, and was appointed governor 
 of CoiTiima and Viscount Berehaven. His march fi'om Glenganiff to 
 Leitiim is, perhaps, the most romantic and gallant achievement of his 
 itge — -VCTHOii's Note.
 
 FATE OF THE o'sULI.! V A NS. 109 
 
 ri. 
 *' Fear not for it," M'Swiney said, 
 
 And stroked his cul-fionn(a) slowly. 
 And proudly raised his matted head. 
 
 Yet spoke me soft and lowly — 
 •* Fear not for it, for, many a day, 
 
 I climb the eagle's eyrie, 
 And bear the eaglet's food away 
 
 To feed our little fairy. 
 
 III. 
 
 " Fear not for it, no Bantry bird 
 
 Would harm our chieftain's baby" — 
 He stopped, and something in him stirred--^ 
 
 'Twas for his chieftain, may be. 
 And then he brushed his softened eyes. 
 
 And raised his bonnet duly. 
 And muttered "the Beantigliearna lies 
 
 Asleep in yonder buaili.'Xb) 
 
 IV. 
 
 He pointed 'twixt the cliff and lake. 
 
 And there a hut of heatlier. 
 Half hidden in the craggy brake, 
 
 Gave shelter from the weather ; 
 The little tanist shrieked with joy, 
 
 Adown the guUey staring — 
 The clansman swelled to see the boy, 
 
 O'Sulli van-like, daring. 
 
 <aj Yulgo, coullo. (.1) Vulfo, fcsuila 
 
 B
 
 ilO nisTonicAL ballads. 
 
 Oh ! what a glorious sight was there- 
 
 As from the summit gazing, 
 O'er winding creek and islet fair, 
 
 And mountain waste amazing ; 
 The Caha and Dunkerron hills 
 
 Cast half the gulfs in shadow, 
 While shone the sun on Culiagh's rilb, 
 
 And Wliiddy's emerald meadow— 
 
 The sea a sheet of crimson spread. 
 
 From Foze to Dursey islands ; 
 While flashed the peaks from Mizenhsaii 
 
 To Musk'ry's distant highlands— 
 I saw no kine, I saw no sheep, 
 
 I saw nor house nor furrow ; 
 But round the tarns the red deer leap. 
 
 Oak and arbutus thorough. 
 
 Oh ! what a glorious sight was there, 
 
 That paradise o'ergazing — 
 When, sudden, burst a smoky glare, 
 
 Above Glengarriff blazing — 
 The clansman sprung upon his feet-- • 
 
 Well might the infant wonder — 
 His hands were clenched, his brow \v;is knit. 
 
 His hard lips just asunder.
 
 FATE OF THE o'sULLIVANS. Ill 
 
 Like shattered rock from out the ground. 
 
 He stood there stiff and silent — 
 Our breathing hardly made a sound. 
 
 As o'er the baby I leant ; 
 His figure then Avent to and fro, 
 
 Ai the tall blaze would flicker — 
 And as exhausted it sunk low, 
 
 His breath came loud and thicker. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Then slowly turned he round his lies J, 
 
 And slowly turned his figure; 
 His eye was fixed as Spanish lead. 
 
 His limbs were full of rigour — 
 Then suddenly he grasped the child, 
 
 And raised it to his shoulder, 
 Then pointing where, across the will, 
 
 The fire was seen to smoulder ; — 
 
 '• Look, baby I — look, there is the sign. 
 
 Your father is returnhig, 
 The * generous hand' of Finghin's line 
 
 Has set that beacon burning. 
 * The generous hand' — Oh I Lord of hosts— 
 
 Oh, Virgin, ever holy ! 
 There's nought to give on Bantry's coiists— 
 
 Duubwy is lying lowly.
 
 il"2 IIISTORICAI, BALLADS. 
 
 " The halls, where mirth and minstrelsy 
 
 Than Beara's wind rose louder, 
 Are flung in masses lonelily. 
 
 And black with English powder — 
 The sheep that o'er our mountains rau. 
 
 The kine that filled our valleys, 
 Are gone, and not a single clan 
 
 O'SulIivan now rallies. 
 
 " He, long the Prince of hill and bay I 
 
 The ally of the Spaniard ! 
 Has scarce a single ath to-day. 
 
 Nor seaman left to man yard" — 
 M'Swiney ceased, then fiercely strode, 
 
 Bearing along the baby, 
 Until we reached the rude abode 
 
 Of Bantry's lovely lady. 
 
 We found her in the savage shed — 
 
 A mild night in mid winter — 
 The mountain heath her only bed. 
 
 Her dais the rocky splinter 1 
 The sad Beantighearn' had seen the fire— ~ 
 
 'Twas plain she had been praying — 
 She seized her son, as we came nigher, 
 
 And welcomed me, thus saying —
 
 FATE OF THE o'SDLLIVANS. 113 
 
 " Oiir gossip's friend I gladly greet, 
 
 Tliough scant'lj I can cheer him ;" 
 Then bids the clansman &y to meet 
 
 And tell her lord she's near him. 
 M'Swiney kissed his foster son, 
 
 And shouting out ins /aire — 
 *' O' Suillehhain ahu," — is gone 
 
 Like Marchman's deadly arrow ! 
 
 XV. 
 
 An hour went by, when, from the shore 
 
 The chieftain's horn winding. 
 Awoke the echoes' hearty roar — 
 
 Their fealty reminding : 
 A moment, and he faintly gasps— 
 
 " These — these, thank heav'n, are left me'.' 
 And smiles as wife and child he clasps — 
 
 " They have not quite bereft me." 
 
 XVI. 
 
 I never saw a mien so grand, 
 
 A brow and eye so fearless — 
 There was not m his veteran band 
 
 A single eyelid tearless. 
 His tale is short — O'Ruarc's strength 
 
 Could not postpone his ruin, 
 And Leitrim's towers he left at length, 
 
 To spare his friend's undoing.
 
 114 HISTORICAL BALLADS. 
 
 To Spain — to Spain, he now will sail, 
 
 His destiny is wrokeu — 
 An exile from dear Inis-fail, — 
 
 Nor yet his will is broken ; 
 For still he hints some enterprise, 
 
 When fleets shall bring them over, 
 Danbwy's proud keep again shsiU riae, 
 
 And mock the English rover. '^ ' 
 
 I saw them cross SUeve Miskisk o'er. 
 
 The crones aromid them wecpinjf — 
 I saw them pass from Culiagh's shore. 
 
 Their galleys' strong oars sweeping,; 
 T saw their ship unfurl its sail — ■ 
 
 I saw their scarfs long wavcu — 
 They saw the hills in distance {a.iv-» 
 
 They never saw Berehaven i
 
 THE SACK. OF BALTIMORE. 115 
 
 THE SACK OF BALTIM.OEE.(«) 
 
 I. 
 
 The summer sun is falling soft on Carbery's hundred 
 
 isles— 
 The summer's sun is gleaming still through Gabriel's 
 
 rough defiles — 
 Old Inisherkin's crumbled fane looks like a moulting 
 
 bird ; 
 And in a calm and sleepy swell the ocean tide is heard ; 
 The hookers lie upon the beach; the children cease their 
 
 play; 
 The gossips leave the little inn ; the houseliolds kneel to 
 
 pray — 
 And full of love, and peace, and rest — its daily labour 
 
 o'er — 
 Upon that cosy creek there lay the town of Baltimore. 
 
 (a) Baltimore is a small seapoi-t in the barony of Carbery, in South 
 Miinstcr. It grew up round a Castle of ODriscoll's, and was, after 
 his ruin, colonized by the English. On the 20tli of June, 1631, the 
 crew of two Algerine galleys landed in the dead of the night, sacked 
 the to-wii, and bore off into slaveiy all who were not too old, or too 
 young, or too fierce for their purpose. The pirates were steered up the 
 inti'icato channel by one Hackett, a Dungan-an fishennan, whom they 
 had taken at sea for the pui-poso. Two yeais after he was convicted 
 and executed for the ciime. Baltimore never recovej-cd tliis. To the 
 artist, the antiquary, and the naturalist, its neighboarhood is most in- 
 teresting. — See " The Ancient and Present State of tlio County and 
 City of Cork," by Cliarlcs Smith, M. P., vol. 1, p. 270. Second edition. 
 Dublin, 1774. — Aurnou's Note.
 
 1J6 HISTOIUCAL BALLADS. 
 
 II. 
 
 A deeper rest, a starry trance, has come with midnight 
 
 there ; 
 No sound, except tliat throbbing wave, in earth, or sea, 
 
 or air. 
 The massive capes, and ruined towers, seem conscious of 
 
 tlie calm ; 
 Tlie fibrous sod and stunted trees are breathing heavy 
 
 balm. 
 So still the night, these two long bai-ques, round Dun- 
 
 ashad that glide, 
 Must trust their oars — methinks not few — against the 
 
 ebbing tide — 
 Oh ! some sweet mission of true love must urge them to 
 
 the shore — 
 They bring some lover to his bride, who sighs in Balti- 
 more I 
 
 III. 
 
 All, all asleep within each roof along that rocky street, 
 
 And these must be the lover's friends, with gently gli- 
 ding feet — 
 
 A stifled gasp ! a dreamy noise ! ' ' the roof is in a 
 flame !" 
 
 From out their beds, and to tiieir doors, rush maid, and 
 sire, and dame — 
 
 And meet, upon the threshold stone, the gleaming sabre's 
 fall, 
 
 And o'er each black and bearded face the white or crim- 
 son sliawl — 
 
 The yell of "Allah" breaks above the prayer, and 
 shriek, and roar — 
 
 Oh, blessed God ! the Algerine is lord of Baltimore 1
 
 THE SACK OF BALTIMORE. 117 
 
 IV. 
 
 Tlien flung the youth his naked hand against the shear- 
 ing sword ; 
 
 Then sprung the mother on the brand with which her 
 son was gored ; 
 
 Then sunk the grandsire on the floor, his grand-babes 
 clutcliing wild ; 
 
 Tlien fled the maiden moaning faint, and nestled with 
 tlie child ; 
 
 But see, yon pirate strangled lies, and crushed with 
 splashing heel. 
 
 While o'er him in an Irish hand there sweeps his Syrian 
 steel — 
 
 Though virtue sink, and courage fail, and misers yield 
 their store. 
 
 There's one hearth well avenged in the sack of Balti- 
 more ! 
 
 V. 
 
 Mid-summer morn, in woodland nigh, tlie birds began to 
 
 sing — 
 They see not now the milking maids — deserted is the 
 
 spring ! 
 Mid-summer day — this gallant rides from distant Ban- 
 don's town — 
 These hookers crossed from stormy Skull, that skiff from 
 
 Affadown ; 
 They only found the smoking walls, with neighbours* 
 
 blood besprent, 
 And on the strewed and trampled beach awhile tliey 
 
 wildly went — 
 Then dashed to sea, and passed Cape Cleire, and saw five 
 
 leagues before 
 The pirate galleys vanishing that ravaged Baltimore. 
 W3
 
 118 HISTORICAL BALLADS. 
 
 V. 
 
 Oh! some must tug the galley '3 oar, and some must 
 
 tend the steed — 
 This hoy will hear a Scheik's chibouk, and that a Bey's 
 
 jerreed. 
 Oh ! some are for the arsenals, by beauteous Dardanelles ; 
 -And some are in the caravan to Mecca's sandy dells. 
 Tlie maid that Bandon gallant souglit is chosen for the 
 
 Dey— 
 Slie's safe — she's dead — she stabbed him in the midst of 
 
 his Serai ; 
 And, when to die a death of fire, that uoble maid they 
 
 bore, 
 She only smiled — O'DriscoU's child — she thought of 
 
 Baltimore. 
 
 ' Tis two long years since sunk the town beneath that 
 
 bloody band. 
 And all around its trampled hearths a larger concourse 
 
 stand. 
 Where, high upon a gallows tree, a yelling wretch is 
 
 seen — 
 'Tis Hackett of Dungarvan — he, v,i;o steered the Alge- 
 
 rine ! 
 He fell amid a sullen shout, with scarce a passing 
 
 prayer. 
 For he had slain the kith and kin of many a hundred 
 
 there — 
 Some muttered of MacMurchadh, who brought the 
 
 Nonuan o'er — 
 Some cursed him with Iscariot, that day in Baltimore.
 
 LAMENT FOR EOGUAN RUADH. 119 
 
 LAMENT FOR THE DEATH OF EOGHAN 
 RUADH 0*NEILL,('T) 
 
 [Time— tOth Nov., 1640. Scene— Ormond's Camp, County Waterford. 
 Speakers — A Veteran of Eoghan O'Neill's clan, and one of the horse- 
 men, just an'ived with an account of his death.] 
 
 "Did they dare, did they dare, to slay Eoghan Ruadh 
 
 O'NeiU?" 
 "Yes, they slew with poison him, they feared to meet 
 
 with steel." 
 "May God wither up their hearts! May their blood 
 
 cease to flow ! 
 May they walk in living death, who poisoned Eoghan 
 
 Ruadh ! 
 
 Though it break my heart to hear, .say again tlie bitter 
 
 words." 
 •' From Derry, against Cromwell, he marched to measure 
 
 swords ; 
 But the weapon of the Sacsanach met him on his way. 
 And he died at Cloch Uachtar,(6) upon Saint Leonard's 
 
 day." 
 
 (a) Commonly caliod Owen Koc O'Neill. Tide .f^ppcndi.'!:. 
 
 (6) Vulgo, C'lovigh Onghter.
 
 120 nisTORicAi, r. M.I, ADS. 
 
 ""Wail, wail ye for The MisjUty One ! Wail, vrail ye 
 
 for the Dead ; 
 Quench the hearth, and hold the breath — with asJies 
 
 strew the head. 
 How tenderly we lored him ! How deeplj we deplore I 
 Holy Saviour ! but to think we shall uever see him more. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Sagest in the council was he, kindest in the hall ! 
 
 Sure we never won a battle — 'twas Eoghan won them all. 
 
 Had he lived — had he lived — our dear country had been 
 
 free; 
 But he's dead, but he's dead, and 'tis slaves we'll ever be. 
 
 V. 
 
 O'Earrell and Clanrickarde, Preston and Red Hugh, 
 Audley and Mac Mahon — ye are valiant, wise, and true ; 
 But — what, what are ye all to our darling who is gone ? 
 The Euddcr of our Ship was he, our Castle's corner 
 stone ! 
 
 VI. 
 
 "Wail, wail him tlirough the Island ! "Weep, weep for 
 
 our pride ! 
 Would that on the battle-field our gallant chief had died I
 
 LAMENT FOn EOGHAN RUADII. 121 
 
 Weep the Victor of Beaan-bhorbh(«) — weep him, young 
 
 man and old ; 
 Weep for him, ye women — your Beautiful lies cold 1 
 
 VII. 
 
 We thought you would not die — we were sure you 
 
 would not go. 
 And leave us in our utmost need to Cromwell's cruel 
 
 blow — 
 Sheep without a sbepherd, when the snow shuts out the 
 
 sky — 
 Oh ! why did you leave us, Eoghan ? Why did you die ? 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Soft as woman's was your voice, O'Neill! bright was 
 
 your eye. 
 Oh ! why did you leave us, Eoghan ? why did you die ? 
 Your troubles are all over, you're at rest with God on 
 
 high; 
 But we're slaves, and we're orphans, Eoghan ! — why did 
 
 you die ?" 
 
 a) VtU. Beiibiirb.
 
 1^2 HISTORICAL BALLADS. 
 
 A RALLY FOE IEELAND.(«r) 
 
 [mat, 1G89.](*), 
 I. 
 Shout it out, till it ring 
 
 From Beaiin-mhor to Caj^e Claire, 
 For our country and king. 
 And religion so dear. 
 Eally, men ! rally — 
 Irishmen ! rally ! 
 Gather round the dear flag, that, wet with our tears, 
 And torn, and Lloody, lay hid for long years. 
 And now, once again, in its pride re-appears. 
 
 See ! from The Castle our green banner waves. 
 Bearing fit motto for uprising slaves — 
 
 For Now OR NEVER ! 
 
 Now and for everI 
 Bins you to battle for triumph or graves — 
 Bids you to burst on the Sacsanach knaves — 
 
 Rally, then, rally I 
 
 Irishmen, rally I 
 
 Shout Now OR NEVER 1 
 Now AND FOR ever I 
 
 Jleed not their fury, however it raves, 
 Welcome their horsemen with pikes and with staves, 
 Close on their cannon, their bay'nets, and glaives, 
 Down with their standard wherever it waves; 
 Fight to the last, and ye cannot be slaves I 
 Fight to the last, and ye cannot be slaves! 
 
 (a) Set to original mxisic in " Ppirit of Xation," <)to., p. 121. 
 (6) Vide Appcriix.
 
 ram.y for irei,and. 123 
 
 II. 
 
 Gallant Sheldon is here. 
 
 And Hamilton, too, 
 And Tirchonaill so dear. 
 
 And Mac Carrthaigli, so true. 
 And there are Frenchmen ; 
 Skilful and staunch men — 
 De Rosen, Pontee, Pusignan, and Boisseleau, 
 And gallant Lauzun is a coming, you knoAv, 
 With Balldearg, the kinsman of great Eoglian Ruadh. 
 From Sionainn to Banna, from Life to Laoi,(") 
 The country is rising for Libertie. 
 Tho' your arms are rude. 
 If your courage he good. 
 As the traitor fled will the stranger flee, 
 At another Drom-m&r, from " the IriBhry\' 
 Arm, peasant and lord ! 
 Grasp musket and sword ! 
 Grasp pike-staff and shian ! 
 Give your horses the rein I 
 March, in the name of his Majesty — 
 Ulster and Munster unitedly — 
 
 Townsman and peasant, like wares o; t'.ic sea 
 
 Leinster and Connacht to victoiy — 
 Shoulder to shoulder for Liberty, 
 Shoulder to shoulder for Liberty. 
 
 (o) Vulgo Shannon, Bann, LiiTey, and l.eo.
 
 124 mSTOKICAL BALLADS. 
 
 HI. 
 
 Kirk, Schomberg and Churchill 
 
 Are coming — what then? 
 We'll drive them and Dutch Will 
 To England again ; 
 
 We can laugh at each threat, 
 For our Paliament 's met — 
 De Coui'cy, O'Briain, Mac Domhnaill, Le Poer, 
 O'Neill aad St. Lawrence, and others go leor. 
 The choice of the land from Athluain(o) to the shore! 
 They'll break the last hnk of the Sacsanach chain — 
 They'll give us the lands of our fathers again 1 
 Tlien up ye ! and fight 
 For your King and your Eight, 
 Or ever toil on, and never complain, 
 Tho' they trample your roof-tree, and rifle your fane. 
 Kally, then, rally I 
 Irishmen, rally — 
 
 Fight Now OR NEVEB, 
 Now AND FOR EVER I 
 
 Laws are in vain without swords to maintain-. 
 So, muster as fast as the fall of the rain : 
 Serried and rough as a field of ripe grain. 
 Stand by your flag upon mountain and plain : 
 Charge till yourselves or your foemen arc slain J 
 Fight till yourselves or your foemen are slain ! 
 
 (o) Vu'.- Atlilone.
 
 THE BATTLE OF LIMERICK. 125 
 
 TUE BATTLE OF LIMERICK/<y 
 
 [AuGCST 27, 1690.] 
 
 Air — Garradh EoghaiiiA'^) 
 
 Oh, hurrah ! for the men, who, when danger is nigh. 
 
 Are found in the front, looking death in the eve. 
 
 Hurrah ! for the men who kept Limerick's wall, 
 
 And hurrah ! for bold Sarsfleld, the bravest of all. 
 King William's men round Limerick lay, 
 His canton cr-islied from day to day. 
 Till the soHthern wall was swept away 
 
 At trie Citv of Luiinv^.ach linK.ghlasJ'" 
 'Tis afternoon, yet hot the sun. 
 When William fires the signal gun, 
 And, like its flash, his columns run 
 
 On the city of Luimneach Unn-ghl.is. 
 
 (a) Vide Appendix. 
 (6) Vulgo, Ganyowen. 
 
 (f) "Limerick of tlie azme livcr." See "'file Circuit of IrelaiKl, 
 p. 47. — Atriiov's Note.
 
 126 HISTORICAL GALLAD3. 
 
 Yet, hurrah! for the raen, who, when danger is nigh 
 Are fo'iud in the front, looking death in the eye. 
 Hurrah ! for the men who kept Limerick's wall, 
 And liurrah ! for bold Sarsfield, the bravest of all. 
 Tlis breach gaped out two perches wide. 
 The fosse is filled, the batteries plied ; 
 Can the Irishmen that onset bide 
 
 At the city oi Luimneach linn-ghlas. 
 Across the ditcli the columns dash, 
 Their bayonets o'er the rubbish flash. 
 When sudden comes a rending crasli 
 
 From the city of Luimneach linn-ghlas. 
 
 III. 
 
 Then, hurrah I for the men, who, when danger is nigii, 
 Arc found in the front, looking death in the eye. 
 IIurr;ih ! for the raen who kept Limerick's wall, 
 And hurrah I for bold Sarsfield, the bravest of all. 
 The bullets rain in pelting shower. 
 And rocks and beams from wall and tower ; 
 The Englishmen are glad to cower 
 
 At the city of Luimneach linn-ghlas 
 But, rallied soon, again they pressed, 
 Their bayonets pierced full many a breast. 
 Till they bravely won the breach's crest 
 
 At the city of Luimneach linn-ghlas.
 
 THK BATTLK OF j^lMERICK. 127 
 
 Yet, hurrah ! for the men, who, when danger is nigh. 
 Are found in the front, looking death in the eye. 
 Hurrah 1 for the men who kept Limerick's wall, 
 And hurrah ! for bold Sarsfield, the bravest of all. 
 Then fiercer grew the Ii'ish yell, 
 And madly on the foe they fell. 
 Till the breach grew like the jaws of hell — 
 Not the city of Luimneach linn-ghlas. 
 The women fought before the men. 
 Each man became a match for ten. 
 So back they pushed the villains then. 
 
 From the city of Luimneach linn-gMas. 
 
 V. 
 
 Then, hurrah! for the men, who, when danger is ni 
 Are found in the front, looking death in the eye. 
 Hurrah I for the men who kept Limerick's wall, 
 And hmrahl for bold Sarsfield, the bravest of all. 
 But Bradenburgh the ditch has crost. 
 And gained our flank at little cost — 
 The bastion's gone — the town is lost ; 
 
 Oh ! poor city of Luimneach linn-ghhti 
 When, sudden, Sarsfield springs the mine — 
 Lilvc rockets rise the Germans fine. 
 And come down dead, 'mid smoke and shiiio. 
 At the city of Luimneach linn-gliim.
 
 i28 HISTORICAL EALLA1>3. 
 
 VI. 
 
 So, hurrah ! for the men, M'ho, wiien danger is nigh. 
 
 Are found in the front, looking death in the eye. 
 
 Hurrah ! for the men who kept Limerick's wall, 
 
 And hurrah ! for bold Sarsfield, the bravest of all. 
 
 Out, with a roar, the Irish sprung-, 
 
 And back the beaten English flung, 
 
 Till William fled, his lords among. 
 
 From the city of Luinineach-Unn-yhlaa, 
 'Twas thus was fought that glorious fight, 
 By Irishmen, for Ireland's right — 
 May all such days have such a nigiit 
 
 As the battle of Lmmneach hnn-^hloM,
 
 PART lY. 
 
 HISTORICAL 
 BALLADS UD S0XG8. 
 
 SeconU %exU*-
 
 'Bt a Ballad lllstorj' we do not mean a metrical chronicle, or any 
 continued work, Init a string of ballads chronologically aiTanged, and 
 iUnsti'uting the main events of Irish History, its characters, costumes, 
 ecenes, and passions. 
 
 Exact dates, subtle plots, minute connexions and motives, rarely ap- 
 pear in Ballads ; and for these ends the worst prose histoiy is superior 
 to the best Ballad series ; but these are not the highest ends of his- 
 tory. To hiUlow or acciu'se the scenes of gloiy and honour, or of 
 shame and soitow— to give to the Imagination the anns, and homes 
 and senates, and battles of other days— to rouse and soften and 
 strengthen and enlarge us with the passions of great periods — to lead 
 us into love of self-denial, of justice, of beauty, of valour, of generous 
 life and proud deatli- -and to sot up in our souls the memory of great 
 men, whu shall then he as models and judges of om' actiois — these are 
 the highest duties of Ilistoiy, and these arc best taught by a Ballad 
 History." — Davis's F.ssats.
 
 BALLADS AND SOXGB 
 
 ILLUSTRATIVE OF 
 
 IRISH HISTOKY. 
 
 THE PENAL DAYS. 
 Air — The Wheelwright. 
 
 On ! weep those days, the penal days, 
 "Wlieu Ireland hopelessly complained, 
 Oli ! weep those days, the penal days, 
 When godless persecution reigned ; 
 "When, year by year, 
 For serf, and peer. 
 Fresh cruelties were made by law, 
 And, filled with hate, 
 Oui' senate sate 
 To weld anew each fetter's flaw. 
 Oh ! weep those days, those penal daya— 
 Their memory still on Ireland ^^i iirhs.
 
 132 
 
 HISTORICAL BALLADS. 
 
 They bribed the flock, they bribed the son. 
 
 To sell the priest and rob the sire; 
 Their dogs were taught alike to run 
 Upon the scent of wolf and friar. 
 Among the j^oor, 
 Or on the moor, 
 Were hid the pious and the true — 
 While traitor knave. 
 And recreant slave, 
 Had riches, rank, and retinue ; 
 And, exiled in those penal days, 
 Our banners over Europe blaze. 
 
 A stranger held the land and tower 
 
 Of many a noble fugitive ; 
 No Popish lord had lordly power. 
 The peasant scarce had leave to live: 
 Above his head 
 A ruined shed. 
 No tenure but a tyrant's will — 
 Forbid to plead, 
 Forbid to read, 
 Disarmed, disfranchised, imbecile— 
 What wonder if our step betrays 
 The freedman, born in penal days'?
 
 THE PENAL DAYS. 133 
 
 IV. 
 
 They're gone, they're gone, those penal days I 
 
 All creeds are equal in our isle ; 
 Then grant, O Lord, thy plenteous grace, 
 Our ancient feuds to reconcile. 
 Let all atone 
 For blood and groan, 
 For dark revenge and open wrong , 
 Let all unite 
 Tor Ireland's right. 
 And drown our griefs in freedom's song ; 
 Till time shall veil in twilight haze, 
 The memory of those penal days. 
 
 THE DEATH OF SAESFIELD.' 
 
 A CHAUNT OF THE BRIGADE. 
 1. 
 
 Sabsfield has sailed from Limerick Town, 
 He held it long for country and crown ; 
 And ere he yielded, the Saxon swore 
 To spoil our liomes and our shrines no more. 
 
 » Pnrs-ficld was slain on the 2!)tli July, 1CS3, at Lanflen, Heaaing Ills 
 conn ti jmen in the vim of victory, — King A\ Uliam Hying. He coulii 
 
 I
 
 13-4 HISTORICAL BALLADS. 
 
 Sarsfield and all his chivalry 
 
 Are fighting for France in the low countrie — 
 
 At his fiery charge the Saxons reel, 
 
 They learned at Limerick to dread the steel. 
 
 Sarsfield is dying on Landen's plain ; 
 
 His corslet hath met the ball in vain — 
 
 As his life-blood gushes into his hand^ 
 
 He says, "Oh I that this was for father-land I" 
 
 IV. 
 
 Sarsfield is dead, yet no tears shed we — 
 For he died in the arms of Victory, 
 And liis dying words shall edge the brand, 
 When we chase the foe from our native land 1 
 
 not have died better. His last thoughts were for his country. As he 
 lay on the field unhelmed and dying, he put his hand to his breast. 
 When he took it away, it was full of his best blood. Looking at it 
 sadly with an eye in wliich victory shone a moment before, he said 
 faintly, " Oh 1 that this were for Ireland. " He said no more ; and 
 history records no noliler saying, nor any more becoming deatli. — 
 Adthor's Note. — Vide Appendix, for a brief sketch of the services of 
 the Irish Brigade, in wliich most of the allusions in these ar4d several 
 of the following poems are e-xplained. — Ep.
 
 SURPRISE OF CREMONA. 135 
 
 THE SUEPEISE OF CKEMONA. 
 (1702.) 
 
 From Milan to Cremona Duke Villeroy rode, 
 And soft are the beds in his princely abode ; 
 In billet and barrack the garrison sleep, 
 And loose is the watch which the sentinels keep : 
 'Tis the eve of St. David, and bitter the breeze 
 Of that mid- winter night on the flat Cremonese ; 
 A fig for precaution ! — Prince Eugene sits down 
 In winter cantonments round Mantua town I 
 
 Yet through Ustiano, and out on the plain, 
 
 Horse, foot, and dragoons are defiling amain. 
 
 "That flash!" said Prince Eugene, "Count Merci, 
 
 push on" — 
 Like a rock from a precipice Merci is gone. 
 Proud mutters the prince — " That is Cassioli's sign : 
 Ere the dawn of the morning Cremona '11 be mine — 
 For Merci will open the gate of the Po, 
 But scant is the mercy Prince Vaudcmont will eiiew 1"
 
 136 HISTORICAL BAl.I.ADS. 
 
 Through gate, street and square, wiih hiskeeii cavaliera— 
 
 A flood through a gulley — Count Merci careers — 
 
 They ride without getting or giving a blow, 
 
 Nor halt 'till tliey graze on the gate of tlie Po — 
 
 " Surrender the gate" — but a volley replied, 
 
 For a handful of Irish are posted inside. 
 
 By my faith, Charles Vaudemont will come rather late, 
 
 If lie stay 'till Count Merci shall open that gate ! 
 
 But in through St. Margaret's the Austrians pour, 
 And billet and barrack are ruddy with gore ; 
 Unarmed and naked, the soldiers are slain — 
 There's an enemy's gauntlet on Villeroy's rein — 
 " A thousand pistoles and a regiment of horse — 
 Release me, MacDonnell !" — they hold on their course. 
 Count Merci has seized upon cannon and wall, 
 Prince Eugene's head -quarters are in the Town-hall 1 
 
 Here and there, through the city, some readier band, 
 
 For honour and safety, undauntedly stand. 
 
 At the head of the regiments of Dillon and Burke 
 
 Is Major O'Mahonj', fierce as a Turk. 
 
 His sabi'e is flashing — the major is drest, 
 
 But muskets and shirts are the clothes of tlie rest 1 
 
 Yet they rush to the ramparts — the clocks have tolled ten- 
 
 A.nd Count Merci retreats with the half of his men.
 
 SURPRISE OF CREMONA. 137 
 
 •' In on them," said Friedberg, — and Dillon is broke. 
 Like forest-flowers crushed by the fall of the oak ; 
 Through the naked battalions the cuirassiers go ; — 
 But the man, not the dress, makes the soldier, I trow. 
 Upon them with grapple, with bay'net, and ball, 
 Like wolves upon gaze-hounds, the Irishmen fall — 
 Black Friedberg is slain by O'Mahony's steel, 
 And back from the bullets the cuirassiers reel. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Oh I hear you their shout in your quarters, Eugene ? 
 
 In vain on Prince Vaudemont for succour you lean ! 
 
 The bridge has been broken, and, mark ! how pell-mclJ 
 
 Come riderless horses, and volley and yell ! — 
 
 He's a veteran soldier — he clenches his hands. 
 
 He springs on his horse, disengages his bands — 
 
 He rallies, he urges, tUl, hopeless of aid, 
 
 He is chased through the gates by the Irish Bkigadk. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 News, news, in Vienna ! — Iving Leopold's sad. 
 News, news, in St. James's ! — King William is mad. 
 News, news, in Versailles — " Let the Irish Brigade 
 Be loyally honoured, and royally paid." 
 News, news, in old Ireland — high rises her pride, 
 And high sounds her wail for her children who died. 
 And deep is her prayer, — " God send I may see 
 •' ILicDonnell and Mahony fighting for lac.'' 
 i3
 
 133 HISTORH AL BVI. 
 
 TilE FLOWER OF FINAE. 
 
 1. 
 
 Bright red is tlie sun on the waves of Lough Sheelln, 
 A cool gentle breeze from the mountain is stealing, 
 \7Tiile f\iir round its islets the small ripples play. 
 But fairer than all is the Flower of Finae. 
 
 II. 
 
 Her liair is like night, and her ej'es like grey morning. 
 She trips on the heather as if its touch scorning. 
 Yet her heart and her lips are as mild as May day, 
 Sweet Eily MaclMahon, the Flower of Finae. 
 
 But who down the hill side than red deer runs fleeter ? 
 And who on the lake side is hastening to greet her? 
 Who but Fergus O'Farrell, the fiery and gay. 
 The darling and pride of the Flower of Finae ? 
 
 One kiss and one clasp, and one wild look of gladness ; 
 Ah ! why do they change on a sudden to sadness — 
 He has told liis hard fortune, nor more he can stay. 
 He must leave his poor Eily to pine at Finae. 
 
 V. 
 
 For Fergus O'Farrell was true to his sire-land. 
 
 And the dark hand of tyranny droA'e him from Ireland;
 
 THE FLOWER OF FINAE. J39 
 
 He joins the Brigade, in tlie wars far away, 
 
 But he TOWS he'll come back to the Flower of Finae. 
 
 vr. 
 He fought at Cremona — she hears of his story ; 
 He fought at Cassano — she's proud of his glory, 
 Yet sadly she sings Siubhail a ruin* all the day. 
 " Oh, come, come, my darling, come home to Finae." 
 
 VII. 
 Eight long years have passed, till slie's nigh broken- 
 hearted. 
 Her reel, and lier rock, and hev flax she has parted ; 
 She sails with the " Wild Geese" to Flanders away. 
 And leaves her sad parents alone in Finae. 
 
 VIII. 
 Lord Clare on the field of Ramillies is charging — 
 Before him, the Sacsanach squadrons enlarging — 
 Behind him the Cravats their sections display — 
 Beside him rides Fergus and shouts for Finae. 
 
 IX. 
 On the slopes of La Judoigne the Frenchmen are flying, 
 Lord Clare and his squadrons the foe still defying, 
 Outnumbered, and wounded, retreat in array; 
 And hleeding rides Fergus and thinks of Finae. 
 
 X. 
 Li the cloisters of Ypres a banner is swaying. 
 And by it a pale weeping maiden is praying ; 
 Tiiat flag's the sole trophy of Ramillies' fray ; 
 This mm is poor Eily, the Flower of Finae. 
 
 * Vuilqo, Shule aroon.
 
 110 HISTORICAL BAM.AnS. 
 
 THE GIRL I LEFT BEHIND MB. 
 Air — The girl I left behind me. 
 
 The dames of France are fond and free. 
 
 And Flemish lips are willing, 
 And soft the maids of Italy, 
 
 And Spanish eyes are thrilling ; 
 Still, though Ibask beneath their smile. 
 
 Their charms faU to bind me, 
 And my heart flies back to Erin's isle, 
 
 To the girl I left behind me. 
 
 For she's as fair as Shannon's side. 
 
 And purer than its water. 
 But she refused to be my bride 
 
 Though many a year I sought her j 
 i'et, since to France I sailed aAvay, 
 
 Her letters oft remind me 
 Tliat I promised never to gainsay 
 
 The girl I left behind me.
 
 THE GIRL I LEFT BEHIND ME. 
 
 She says — " My own dear love, come luno. 
 
 My friends are rich and majiy. 
 Or else abroad with you I'll roam 
 
 A soldier stout as anj' ; 
 If you'll not come, nor let me go, 
 
 I'll think you have resigned me." 
 My heart nigh broke when I answore-I —No ! 
 
 To the girl I left behind ra^ 
 
 For never shall my true love brave 
 
 A life of war and toiling ; 
 And never as a skulking slave 
 
 I'll tread my native soil on ; 
 But, were it free or to be freed. 
 
 'I'he battle's close Avoiild find mo 
 To Ireland bound — nor message noed 
 
 From tne girl I left behind tn«.
 
 i42 HISTORICAL BALLACB. 
 
 CLARE'S DRAGOONS. 
 
 Am— Viva la. 
 
 ■\Vhen, on Ramillies' bloody field, 
 The baffled French were forced to yield, 
 The victor Saxon backward reeled 
 
 Before the charge of Clare's Dragoons. 
 The Flfig-s, we conquered in that fray. 
 Look lone in Ypres' choir, they say. 
 We'll win them company to-day, 
 
 Or bravely die like Clare's Dragoons. 
 
 Viva la, for Ireland's wrong ! 
 
 Viva la, for Ireland's right 1 
 Viva la, in battle throng, 
 
 Tor a Spanish steed, and sahie bright I 
 
 * Fide Appends X.
 
 clabe's dragoons. 143 
 
 II. 
 
 The brave old lord died near the fight, 
 But, for each drop he lost that night, 
 A Saxon cavalier shall bite 
 
 The dust before Lord Clare's Drafcoons. 
 For, never, when our spurs were set, 
 And never, when our sabres met, 
 Could we the Saxon soldiers get 
 
 To stand the shock of Clare's Dragoons. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Viva la, the New Brigade ! 
 
 Yiva la, the Old One, too ! 
 Yiva 7a, the rose shall fade. 
 
 And the Shamrock shine fcr ever new ! 
 III. 
 Another Clare is here to lead. 
 The worthy son of such a breed ; 
 The French expect some famous deed. 
 
 When Clare leads on his bold Dragoons. 
 Our colonel comes from Brian's race. 
 His woundi' are in his breast and face, 
 The bearna baoghail* is still his place, 
 The foremost of his bold Dragoons. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Viva la, the New Brigade ! 
 
 Viva la, the Old One, too 
 Viva la, the rose shall fade, 
 
 And the Shamrock shine for ever newl 
 
 • Gap of (Janger.
 
 !'14 niSTORlCAI, BALLADS. 
 
 There's not a man in squadron here 
 "Was ever known to flinch or fear ; 
 Though first in charge and last in rere. 
 
 Have ever been Lord Clare's Dragoons ; 
 But, see ! we'll soon have work to do, 
 To shame our boasts, or prove them true. 
 For hither comes the English crew, 
 
 To sweep away Lord Clare's Dragoons. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Viva la, for Ireland's wrong ! 
 
 Viva la, for Ireland's right ! 
 Viva la, in battle throng, 
 
 For a Spanish steed and sabre bright 1 
 
 Oh ! comrades ! think how Ireland pines. 
 Her exiled lords, her rifled shrines, 
 Her dearest hope, the ordered lines, 
 
 And bursting charge of Clare's Dragooni*. 
 Tlien fling your Green Flag to the sky. 
 Be Limerick your battle-cry, 
 And charge, till blood floats fetlock-high, 
 
 Around the track of Clare's Dragoons 1 
 
 CHORnS. 
 
 Viva la, the New Brigade I 
 
 Viva la, the Old One, too ! 
 Viva la, the rose shall fade, 
 
 And the Shamrock shine for evei new j
 
 WHEN SOUTH WINDS BLOW. 145 
 
 WHEN SOUTH WINDS BLOW. 
 Air — The gentle Maiden. 
 
 Why sits the gentle maiden there. 
 
 While surfing billows splash around ? 
 Why doth she southwards wildly stare, 
 
 And sing, with such a fearful sound — 
 •' The Wild Geese fly where others walk; 
 The Wild Geese do what others talk — 
 The way is long from France, you know — 
 He'll come at last when south winds blow. 
 
 II. 
 
 Oh I softly was the maiden nurst 
 
 In Castle Connell's lordly towers. 
 Where Skellig's bihows dou and burst. 
 And, far above, Dunkerron towers ; 
 And she was noble as the hill — 
 Yet battle-flags are nobler still : 
 And she was graceful as the wave — 
 Yet who would live a trancjuil slave ? 
 
 K
 
 14G HISTORICAL BALLADS. 
 
 And, so, her lover went to France, 
 
 To serve the foe of Ireland's foe ; 
 Yet deep he swore — "Whatever chance, 
 
 " I'll come some day when south winds blow. 
 And prouder hopes he told beside. 
 How she should be a prince's bride, 
 How Louis would the Wild Geese* send, 
 And Ireland's weary woes should end. 
 
 But tyrants quenched her father's hearth, 
 
 And wrong and absence warped her mind : 
 The gentle maid, of gentle birth, 
 
 Is moaning madly to the wind — 
 " He said he'd come, whate'er betide : 
 He said I'd be a happy bride : 
 Oh 1 long the way and hard the foe — 
 He'll come when south — when south winds blow 1" 
 
 • The recruiting for the Brigade was carried on in the French shipg 
 which smuggled brandies, wines, silks, &c., to the western and south- 
 western coasta. Their return cargoes were recruits for the Brigade, 
 and were entered in their books as WUd Geese. Hence this became 
 the common name in Ireland for the Irish serving in the Brigade. The 
 recruiting was chiefly from Clare, Limerick, Cork, Kerry, and Galway. 
 — Acthok's Notk.
 
 BATTLE EVE OF THE BRIGADE. 147 
 
 THE BATTJiE EVE OF THE BRIGADE. 
 
 Air — Contented I am. 
 
 The mess-tent is full, and the glasses are set, 
 
 And the gallant Count Thomond is president yet ; 
 
 The vet'ran arose, like an uplifted lance, 
 
 Crying — "Comrades, a health to the monarch of 
 
 France 1" 
 With bumpers and cheer's they have done as he bade. 
 For King Louis is loved by The Irish Brigade. 
 
 II. 
 
 '•A health to King James," and they bent as they 
 
 quaffed, 
 ♦•Here's to George the Elector," and fiercely they 
 
 laughed, 
 " Good luck to the girls we wooed long ago, 
 Where Shannon, and Barrow, and Blackwater flow ;" 
 "God prosper Old Ireland," — you'd think them afraid, 
 So pale grew the chiefs of The Irish Brigade.
 
 148 HISTORICAL BALLADS. 
 
 '• But, surely, that light cannot come from our lamp? 
 And that noise — are they all getting drunk in the 
 
 camp ?" 
 ' ' Hurrah ! boys, the morning of battle is come, 
 And the generales beating on many a drum." 
 So they rush from the revel to join the parade : 
 Eor the van is the right of The Irish Brigade. 
 
 IV. 
 
 They fought as they revelled, fast, fiery, and true, 
 And, though victors, they left on the field not a few ; 
 And they, who survived, fought and drank as of yore. 
 But the land of their heart's hope they never saw more j 
 For in far foreign fields, from Dunkirk to Belgrade, 
 Lie the soldiers and chiefs of The Irish Brigade.
 
 FON'TENOY. l-id 
 
 FONTENOY.' 
 
 !, C1745.) 
 
 r 
 
 I. 
 
 TiisroE, at the htits of rontenoy, the English column 
 
 f.iilecl, 
 An J. twice, the lines of Saint Antoinc, the Dutch in vain 
 
 ;'.,-<ailed ; 
 i\'T town and slope •ivcrc filled with fort and flanlcing 
 
 battery, 
 Ai:J w-U tliey swept the English rr.uks, und Dutch 
 
 auxiliary. 
 A» ruinly, throu^^h De Earri's wood, tlv: Erltish soldiers 
 
 hurst, 
 !1jc rrmch artillery drove thv'in back, diminished, and 
 "* di>;pcrscd. 
 
 Ti.', bb :-dy Dakc of Cunihcrland behtdd with anxious 
 
 .';;i<' -'r'b.red up hi> last ro-erve, his latest chance to try, 
 ' >•; i'oiuenoy, on rontenoy, how fast his gencr.'ils ride! 
 - .ir..! niu.-tering cnmc his chosen troops, like clouds at 
 eventide. 
 
 » Viilc Avvipii'tix.
 
 Ii:ST01UCAL BALLADS 
 
 Spc 'Jioii?a:'!'l Eiiglisli vet.er;ui3 in stately column trccvl, 
 Tlicir c;!r.;ioii blazu iu front ;in<l flank, Lord Hay u at 
 
 tlivir heal ; 
 Suj.i'ly lacy s'.c]) a-down tlic ?Iope — steady they cliiub 
 
 111 ■ liill ; 
 (Stoad^- they load — steady they fire, moving rij.dit o.i- 
 
 ward still. 
 F)otwixt the wuod and Fontcnoy, as tlnou'.di a funiiujc 
 
 hlast, 
 Through ran:part, Ircich, and palisade, and bulleii 
 
 shoM-cring fast ; 
 Ai'.d on the open plain above tliey ro.^e, and kci)t thuir 
 
 course, 
 ''.Yitli r..aily Cre an.l ;;rim rcMdve, that mocked at ]lo^. 
 
 tile force : 
 Past Foiitenoy, past Fontenoy, '.vhi'ic thinner grow thc-ir 
 
 ranl;s_ 
 They break, as broke tl;o Zuyder Zee tlirough lioUand's 
 
 ocean Ijauks. 
 
 i'doi'e iul} than the sununer files, French tirailleurs r\i^h 
 
 round ; 
 As stubble tu tlie hi\a tide, French st^iiadrons strew i\.c 
 
 .Uroi'.nd ; 
 Fon.b-shell, and grrpe, and rinind-shot tore, still on ihev 
 
 r.i.irtdied and tired- 
 last, fniii! each volk-y, grenadier arul voltigeur retired,
 
 FONTENOY. ]51 
 
 •' Pu^li on, my liouseliold cavalry!" Kin:; Loui? madly 
 
 cried : 
 To death they rush, but rude their shock — not \ma- 
 
 vcnged they died. 
 On through the camp tlie column trod— Kiug Louis 
 
 turns his rcni : 
 "Not yet, my liege," Saxe interposed, ''the Irish troops 
 
 remain ;" 
 A nd Fontcuoy, famed Fontcnoy, had been a Waterloo, 
 \\'erc not the-e exiles ready then, fresh, vehement, and 
 
 true. 
 
 IV. 
 
 " T.ord Clare," ho says, " you have your wish, there are 
 
 your Saxon foes !" 
 Tii; .Marshal almost smiles to sec, so furiously he goes '. 
 lloiv Gerce the look these exiles wear, who're Avont to be 
 
 60 gay, 
 'Die treasured Arrongs of fifty ye:u'3 are in tlicir hearts 
 
 to-day — 
 'J'i:c treaty broken, ere the ink wherewith 'twas writ 
 
 coidd dry, 
 'J'iieir plundered homes, their ruined shrines, their wo- 
 men's parting cry, 
 Their priesthood hunted down lilcc wolves, tlieir cotmtry 
 
 •' o\'erthro\rn, — ,> 
 
 Kach looks, as if revenge for all were ?tak'cd on him 
 
 alone, 
 tin Fonteiuiy, i.iu Fontenoy, nor ever yet elsewl'ere, 
 Kii^hrd on to fight a noldcr band than t];e^•c proud exiles 
 
 were.
 
 aiSTOlUCAl. UaM.AUS, 
 
 O'EriL-n's voice is hoarse villi joy, r..-, halting, he corn- 
 
 n;aiids, 
 'Fi^- o:i}'nfts" — ••cliar^c," — Like mountuin storm, ru !; 
 
 on these fiery hands 1 
 Thin is the linjj.Ush eoUmin now, and faint their vohi.-; s 
 
 Wt, uin-;t'ring all the stren;;tli they have, they make a 
 
 g-uilant show. 
 Tlicy drtsj their ranks tipon the liill to face that battle- 
 
 \\ iiid— 
 Their b;v,-unuts the breakers' foam ; like rocks, tlie iiicn 
 
 beliind i 
 On3 Volley crashes from their line, w!;cn, through the 
 
 siire;ir.g smoke. 
 With en'.pty gun? ciutelied iii their hands, the he;ullon_,' 
 
 Iri--]i broke. 
 On Foutcnoy, on h'ontenoy, hark to that fierce hu?..-:a! 
 '■' Eevenije ! rcnicinlier Limerick ! dash down the 
 
 Sacsanach !" 
 
 Like lion's leaping at a fold, vlicn inad with hun^^er'd 
 
 Eight np against the Englisli line the Irish exiles 
 
 sprang: 
 Briglit^sas their steel, 'tis bloody now, their giuis nrc 
 
 filled with gore ; 
 Tluougli shattered ranks, and severed files, and trampled 
 
 lkii;s they tore;
 
 THE UUNGANNON CONV£NTIOV. ijo 
 
 Tiic Englisli strove M'ith desperate strength, p;)u?eJ, ral- 
 
 lieJ, stagc;ored, fled — 
 Tiie green hill side is matted close wllh dying and ■with 
 
 dead. 
 Across tlie plain, and far away passed on that liiJcous 
 
 wrack, 
 Vrhilc cavalier and fantassin dasli iu upon their track. 
 On Tontonoy, on Fontcnoy, like eagles in the sun, 
 Willi bloody plumes the Irisli stand — the field is fough.t 
 
 and won ! 
 
 THE DUNGANNON CONVENTION. 
 (1782.) 
 
 The church of Dungannon is full to the door, 
 
 And sabre and spur clash at tiujes on the floor, 
 
 Vt'hile helmet and shako arc ranged all along, 
 
 Yet no book of devotion is seen in the throng. 
 
 In the front of the altar no minister stands, 
 
 l-iu the crimsou-clad chief of these warrior bands; 
 
 And though solemn the looks and the voices around. 
 
 You'd listen in vain fur a. litany's sound. 
 
 Say! what do they hear in ilic temple of prayer ? 
 
 Oil ! why in the fold has tlie lion his lair? ■ 
 
 K 3
 
 154 
 
 nr.sTor.ic.vr, tialla us. 
 
 S;ul, voindcd, awl wan w:is tlie face of our isle, 
 liy Kn-ii'.ii oppn>s«;o:i, nui.l ialseliood, and guile ; 
 Yet wliLU to invalij it a roi-(;lj;-n fleet steered, 
 'i'o y:iwii\] it r'ur iva-Liud I he Norl.li voluutoorcd. 
 lU'::\ ilic ciii/.en-soldicTs tiic foe fiud ay'iiast — 
 Still tli.'v stwo.l to Ih.'ir gims udie;! the dan.uer had jMist, 
 Pu-.- tlie \-j\,v of AruLTica eanic oVr the \v-ave, 
 (;ryai,e-_V,\.e 1o tiiu tyrant, and lioprj to the .slave!— 
 J;.di--.aU--.n ,u"I shanio through tlk'ir rcjlments q)ced 
 ■I'lu'y have anns iu tli^r hand^ and ^^■hat mere do tliey 
 
 O'er llie green hills of Ulster their banners are spread, 
 Tiie citie> of Lein.;er resoiiud to their tread, 
 Tl;e va.llies <;f :*ran:Uer with ardour arc fctirred, 
 
 Au.Uheplaiusof wild Connau^-ht their budeshavchearJ; 
 A I'roU'stant frunt-rank and Cathohe rorc— 
 For— iLriii Idea the arins of freeuion tu bear- 
 Vet focnian and frieiM are fidl sure, if need be, 
 'Iho hiavo for his oountiy will stand by the free. 
 IJy tureen Ila-s supported, t!ic ()rai!-e tla-s wave, 
 And the si.hiier half turns to unfottor tlie slave!
 
 THE DUNG.VNNON CONVENTION. 155 
 
 More honoured that church of Dungannon is now. 
 
 Than when at its altar communicants bow ; 
 
 More welcome to heai^n than anthem or prayer, 
 
 Are the rites and the thoughts of the warriors there ; 
 
 In the name of all Ireland the Delegates swore ; 
 
 ' ' We've suffered too long, and we'll suffer no more — 
 
 Unconquered by Force, we were vanquished by Fraud ; 
 
 And now, in God's temple, we vow unto God, 
 
 That never again shall the Englishman bind 
 
 His cliains on our limbs, or his laws on our mind." 
 
 The church of Dungannon is empty once more — 
 No plumes on the altar, no clash on the floor. 
 But the councils of England are fluttered to see, 
 In the cause of their country, the Irish agree ; 
 So they give as a boon what they dare not withhold, 
 And Ii-eland, a nation, leaps up as of old, 
 "With a name, and a trade, and a flag of her own. 
 And an army to fight for tlie people and throne. 
 But woe worth the day if to falsehood or fears 
 She surrender the guns of her brave Volunteers !
 
 15G 
 
 niSTOKICAL BALLADS. 
 
 SONG OF THE VOLUNTEEKS OF 1782. 
 Air — Boijne Water. 
 
 Hurrah 1 'tis done — our freedom's woa- 
 
 Hurrah for the Volunteers ! 
 No laws we own, but those alone 
 
 Of our Commons, King, and Peers. 
 The chain is broke — the Saxon yoke 
 
 From off our neck is taken ; 
 Ireland awoke — Dungannon spoke — 
 
 With fear was England shaken. 
 
 When Grattan rose, none dared oppose 
 
 The claim he made for freedom : 
 They knew our swords, to back his words, 
 
 Were ready, did he need them . 
 Then let us raise, to Grattan's praise, 
 
 A proud and joyous anthem ; 
 And wealth, and grace, and length of days, 
 
 May God, in mercy grant him !
 
 THE VOLUXTIOEUS. 15? 
 
 Bless Harry Plood, who nobly stood 
 
 By us, through gloomy years 1 
 Bless Charlemont, the brave and good, 
 
 The Chief of the Volunteers 1 
 The North began ; the North held on 
 
 The strife for native land ; 
 Till Ireland rose, and cowed her foes — 
 
 God bless the Northern land ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 And bless the men of patriot pen — 
 
 Swift, Molyneux, and Lucas ; 
 Bless sword and gun, which "Free Trade' won — 
 
 Bless God ! who ne'er forsook us ! 
 And long may last, the friendship fast, 
 
 Which binds us all together ; 
 "While we agree, out foes shall flee 
 
 Like clouds in stormy weather. 
 
 Kemember still, through good and ill. 
 
 How vain were prayers and tears — 
 How vain were words, till flashed the swords 
 
 Of the Irish Volunteers. 
 By arms we've got the rights we sought 
 
 Through long and wretched years — 
 Hurrah ! 'tis done, our Freedom's won — 
 
 Hurrah for the Volunteers !
 
 158 HISTORICAL BALLADS. 
 
 THE MEN OF 'EIGHTY-TWO. 
 Air. — A?i Craisgin Lan. 
 
 To rend a cruel chain, 
 
 To end a foreign reign. 
 The swords of the Volunteers were dra\vii. 
 
 And instant from their sway. 
 
 Oppression fled away ; 
 So we'll drink them in a craisghi lan, lan, (an. 
 We'll drink them in a cruisg'm I'm ! 
 
 II. 
 
 Within that host were seen 
 The Orange, Blue, and Green — 
 
 The Bishop for it's coat left his lawn — 
 The peasant and the lord 
 Ranked in with one accord. 
 
 Like brothers at a cruisg'm lan, lan, lan, 
 
 Like brothers at a craisgin lan I 
 
 With liberty there came 
 Wit, eloquence, and fame ; 
 Our feuds went like mists from the dawn j
 
 THE WEN OF "eighty-two. 159 
 
 Old bigotry disdained — 
 
 Old privilege retained — 
 Oh I sages, fill a cruisg'm Idn, Ian, la,n. 
 And, boys ! fill up a craisgm Ida I 
 IV. 
 
 The trader's coffers filled. 
 
 The barren lands were tilled, 
 Our ships on the waters thick as sj^awii — 
 
 Prosperity broke forth. 
 
 Like summer in the north — 
 Ye merchants \ fill a cruisgm Idn, Idn, Ian, 
 Ye farmers ! fill a craisgm Idn ! 
 
 V. 
 
 The memory of that day 
 
 Shall never pass away, 
 Tho' its fame shall be yet outshone ; 
 
 We'll grave it on our shrines, 
 
 We'll shout it in our lines — 
 Old Ireland ! fill a cruisgm Idn, Idn, Idn, 
 Young Ireland ! fill a cruisgln Idn I 
 
 VI. 
 
 And drink — The Volunteers, 
 
 Their generals, and seers, 
 Thoir gallantry, their genius, and their brawn , 
 
 With water, or with wine — 
 
 The draught is but a sign — 
 The purpose fills the cruisgm Idn, Idn, Idn, 
 This purpose fills the cruisgm Idn I
 
 IGO HISTORICAL BALLADS. 
 
 VII. 
 
 That ere Old Ireland goes, 
 
 And while Young Ireland glows. 
 The swords of our sires be girt on, 
 
 And loyally renew 
 
 The work of 'Eighty-Two — 
 Oh ! gentlemen — a cruisgin Ian, Idn, Ian, 
 Our freedom ! in a cruisgin Ian I 
 
 NATIVE SWORDS. 
 
 (a TOLUNTEER. song 1st JULY, 1792.) 
 
 Air — Boyne Water. 
 
 We've bent too long to braggart wrong. 
 
 While force our prayers derided ; 
 We've fought too long, ourselves among. 
 
 By knaves and priests divided ; 
 TJnited now, no more we'll bow, 
 
 Poul faction, we discard it ; 
 And now, thank God 1 our native sod 
 
 Has Native Swords to guard it.
 
 NATIVE SWORDS. 
 
 161 
 
 Like rivers, which, o'er valleys rich. 
 
 Bring ruin in their water. 
 On native land, a native hand 
 
 riung foreign fraud and slaughter. 
 From Dermod's crime to Tudor's time 
 
 Our clans were our perdition ; 
 Religion's name, since then, became 
 
 Our pretext for division. 
 
 III. 
 
 But, worse than all, with Lim'rick's fall 
 
 Our valour seem'd to perish ; 
 Or, o'er the main, in France and Spain, 
 
 For bootless vengeance flourish. 
 The peasant, here, grew pale for fear 
 
 He'd suCTer for our glory, 
 While France sang joy for Fontenoy, 
 
 And Europe hymned our story. 
 
 But, now, no clan, nor factious plan. 
 
 The East and "West can sunder — 
 Why Ulster e'er should Munster fear. 
 
 Can only wake our wonder. 
 Religion's crost, when union's lost, 
 
 And " royal gifts" retard it ; 
 But now, thank God ! our native sod 
 
 Has Native Swords to guard it.
 
 i62 HISTORICAL BALLADS. 
 
 TONE'S GEAVE. 
 
 In Bodenstown Churchyard there is a green grave. 
 And wildly along it the winter winds rave ; 
 Small shelter, I ween, are the ruined walls there. 
 When the storm sweeps down on the plains of Kildare. 
 
 Once I lay on that sod — it lies over Wolfe Tone — 
 And thought how he perished in prison alone. 
 His friends unavenged, and his country unfreed — 
 " Oh, bitter," I said, " is the patriot's meed ; 
 
 III. 
 
 For in him the lieart of a woman combined 
 With a heroic life, and a governing mind — 
 A martyr for Ireland — bis grave has no stone — 
 His name seldom named, and his vii'tues unknovu. 
 
 IV. 
 
 I was woke from my dream by the voices and tread 
 Of a band, who came into the home of the dead ; 
 They carried no corpse, and they carried no stone, 
 And they stopped when they came to the grave of Wolfe 
 Tone.
 
 tone's grave. 163 
 
 V. 
 
 There were students and peasants, the wise and the 
 
 brave, 
 And an old man who knew him from cradle to grave, 
 And children who thought me hard-hearted ; for they, 
 On that sanctified sod, were forbidden to play. 
 
 VI. 
 
 But the old man, who saw I was mourning there, said, 
 •' We come, sir, to weep where young Wolfe Tone is 
 
 laid, 
 And we're going to raise him a monument, too — 
 A plain one, yet fit for the simple and true." 
 
 VII. 
 
 My heart overflowed, and I clasped his old hand, 
 And I blessed him, and blessed every one of his band ; 
 • ' Sweet 1 sweet ! 'tis to find that such faith can remain 
 To the cause, and the man so long vanquished and slain." 
 
 In Bodenstown Churchyard there is a green grave, 
 And freely around it let winter winds rave — 
 Par better they suit him — the ruin and gloom, — 
 Till Ireland, a Nation, can build him a tosib.
 
 " A Ballad Histoet is welcome to cUldhood, from Its rhymes, lt« 
 high coloiiring, and its aptness to memory. As we grow into boyliood, 
 the violent passions, the vague hopes, the romantic sorrow of patriot 
 ballads are in tune with our fitful and luxuriant feelings. In man- 
 hood we piize the condensed narrative, the grave fii-mness, the criti- 
 cal art, and the political sway of ballads. And in old age they are 
 doubly dear ; the companions and reminders of our life — the toys 
 and teachers of our children and grand-children. Every generation 
 finds its account in them. They pass from mouth to mouth like salu- 
 tations ; and even the minds which lose their words are under their 
 influence, as one can recaU the starry heavens who cannot revive th-i 
 form of a single constellation.'" — Davis's Essays.
 
 PART V. 
 ITISGELLANEOUS POEMS.
 
 " Natfonality is no longer an unmeaning or despised nnmc among 
 ns. It is welcomed by the higher ranks, it is the inspiration of the 
 bold, and the hope of tlie people. It is the summaiy name for many- 
 things. It seeks a Literature made by Irishmen, and coloured by our 
 scenery, manners, and character. It desires to see Art applied to ex- 
 press Irish thoughts and belief. It would make our JIusic sound in 
 Bverj' parish at twilight, our Pictures sprinlde the walls of every house, 
 find our Poetry and History sit at every hearth. 
 
 " It would thus create a race of men full of a more intensely Irish 
 character and knowledge, and to that race it would give Ii-eland. It 
 would give them the seas of Ireland to sweep with their nets and launch 
 on with their navy ; the harbom's of Ireland, to receive a greater com- 
 merce than any island in the world ; the soil of Ireland to live on, by 
 more millions than starve here now ; the fume of Ireland to enhance 
 by their genius and valour ; the Independence of Ireland to guard by 
 laws and arras."— Davis's Essixs.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS 
 POEMS. 
 
 NATIONALITY. 
 
 A nation's voice, a nation's voice — 
 
 It is a solemn thing I 
 It bids the bondage-sick rejoice — 
 
 'Tis stronger than a king. 
 'Tis like the light of many stars. 
 
 The sound of many waves ; 
 Which brightly look through prison-bare ; 
 
 And sweetly sovmd in caves. 
 Yet is it noblest, godliest known, 
 When righteous triumph swells its tone.
 
 168 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 ir, 
 
 A nation's flag, a nation's flag — 
 
 If wickedly unrolled, 
 May foes in adverse battle drag 
 
 Its every fold from fold. 
 But, in the cause of Liberty, 
 
 Guard it 'gainst Earth and Hell ; 
 Guard it till Death or Victory — 
 
 Look you, you guard it well ! 
 No saint or king has tomb so proud, 
 As he whose flag becomes his shroud. 
 
 A nation's right, a nation's right — 
 
 God gave it, and gave, too, 
 A nation's sword, a nation's might, 
 
 Danger to guard it through. 
 *Tis freedom from a foreign yoke, 
 
 'Tis just and equal laws. 
 Which deal unto the humblest folk. 
 
 As in a noble's cause. 
 On nations fixed in right and truth, 
 God would bestow etern-il youth. 
 
 May Ireland's voice be ever heard 
 Amid the world's applause ! 
 
 And never be her flag-staff stirred, 
 But in an honest cause 1
 
 SELF-nELIANCB. 
 
 May Freedom be her very breath, 
 
 Be Justice ever dear ; 
 And never an ennobled death 
 
 May son of Ireland fear 1 
 So the Lord God will ever smile, 
 With guardian grace, upon our isle. 
 
 SELF-RELIANCE. 
 
 Though savage force and subtle schemes, 
 
 And alien rule, through ages lasting. 
 Have swept your land like lava streams, 
 
 Its wealth, and name, and nature blasting, 
 Eot not, therefore, in dull despair. 
 
 Nor moan at destiny in far lands ; 
 Face not your foe with boSom bare, 
 
 Nor hide your chains in pleasure's garlands. 
 The wise man arms to combat wrong, 
 
 The brave man clears a den of lions, 
 The true man spurns the Helot's song ; 
 
 The freeman's friend is Self-Eeliance I
 
 170 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Though France, that gave your exiles bread, 
 
 Your priests a home, your hopes a station, 
 Or that young land, where first was spread 
 
 The starry flag of Liberation, — 
 Should heed your wrongs some future day, 
 
 And send you voice or sword to plead 'em, 
 With helpful love their help repay. 
 
 But trust not even to them for Freedom. 
 A Nation freed by foreign aid 
 
 Is but a corpse by wanton science 
 Convulsed like Ufe, then flung to fade — 
 
 The life itself is Self-KeUance I 
 
 lit. 
 
 Oh ! see your quailing tyrant run 
 
 To courteous lies, and Roman agents ; 
 His terror, lest Dungannon's sun 
 
 Should rise again with riper radiance. 
 Oh ! hark the Freeman's welcome cheer. 
 
 And hark your brother sufferers sobbing ; 
 Oh ! mark the universe grow clear. 
 
 And mark your spirit's royal throbbing — 
 'Tis Freedom's God that sends such signs. 
 
 As pledges of his blest alliance ; 
 He gives bright hopes to brave designs, 
 
 And lends his bolts to Self-Reliance I
 
 SWEET AND SAD. 171 
 
 Then, flung alone, or liand-in-hand, 
 
 In mirthful hour, or spirit solema ; 
 In loAvly toil, or high command. 
 
 In social hall, or charging column ; 
 In tempting wealth, and trying woe, 
 
 In struggling with a mob's dictation ; 
 In 'bearing back a foreign foe. 
 
 In training up a troubled nation : 
 Still hold to Truth, abound in Love, 
 
 Refusing every base compliance — 
 Your Praise within, your Prize alcove. 
 
 And live and die in Self-Reliance ! 
 
 SWEET AND SAD. 
 
 A PRISON SERMON. 
 
 'Tis sweet to climb the mountain's crest. 
 And run, like deer-hound, down its breast ; 
 'Tis sweet to snuff the taintless air. 
 And sweep the sea with haughty stare : 
 And, sad it is, when iron bars 
 Keep watch between you and the stara ; 
 And sad to find your footstep stayed 
 By prison-wall and palisade ••
 
 172 MISCELLANEOUS POEJIS 
 
 . But *twere better be 
 
 A prisoner for ever, 
 With no destiny 
 
 To do, or to endeavour ; 
 Better life to spend 
 
 A martyr or confessor. 
 Than in silence bend 
 
 To alien and oppressor. 
 
 II. 
 
 'Tis sweet to rule an ample realm, 
 Through weal and woe to hold the helm ; 
 And sweet to strew, with plenteous hand, 
 Strength, health, and beauty, round your land ; 
 And sad it is to be unprized, 
 Wliile dotards rule, unrecognized ; 
 And sad your little ones to see 
 Writhe in the gripe of poverty : 
 But 'twere better pine 
 
 In rags and gnawing hunger, 
 While around you whine 
 
 Your elder and your younger ; 
 Better lie in pain, 
 
 And rise in pain to-morrow. 
 Than o'er millions reign. 
 While those millions sorrow.
 
 SWEET AND SAD. 173 
 
 'Tis sweet to own a quiet hearth, 
 Begirt by constancy and mirth ; 
 'Twere sweet to feel your dying clasp 
 Returned by friendship's steady grasp : 
 And sad it is, to spend your life, 
 Lilie sea-bird in the ceaseless strife — 
 Your lullaby the ocean's roar, 
 Your resting-place a foreign shore : 
 But 'twere better live. 
 
 Like ship caught by Lofoden. 
 Than your spirit give 
 
 To be by chains corroden : 
 Best of all to yield 
 
 Your latest breath, when lying 
 On a victor field, 
 With the green flag flying ! 
 
 Human joy and human sorrow. 
 Light or shade from conscience borrow ; 
 The tyrant's crown is lined with fiame. 
 Life never paid the coward's shame : 
 The miser's lock is never sure, 
 The traitor's home is never pure ; 
 While seraphs guard, and cherubs tend 
 The good man's life and brave man's end ; 
 l3
 
 174 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 But their fondest care 
 
 Is the patriot's prison, 
 Hymning through its air — 
 
 ' ' Freedom hath arisen, 
 Oft from statesmen's strife, 
 
 Oft from battle's flashes, 
 Oft from hero's life, 
 
 Oftenest from his ashes 1" 
 
 THE BURIAL. 
 
 Why rings the knell of the funeral bell from a hundred 
 
 village shrines? 
 Through broad Tingall, where hasten all those long and 
 
 ordered lines ? 
 With tear and sigh they're passing by, — the matron and 
 
 the maid — 
 Has a hero died — is a nation's pride in that cold coffin 
 
 laid? 
 
 * Written on the funeral of tlie Rev. P. J. Tyrrell, P. P. of Lusk ; 
 one of those inflicted with O'Connell in the government prosecutions 
 of 1843 — Ed.
 
 THE BCRIAL. 175 
 
 With frowu and curse, behind the hearse, dark men go 
 
 tramping ou — 
 Has a tyrant died, that they cannot hide their wrath till 
 
 the rites are done ? 
 
 THE CHAUNT. 
 
 " Ululu I itlulit ! high on the wind, 
 "There's a home for the slave where no fetters can bind. 
 " Woe, woe to his slayers" — comes wildly along, 
 With the trampling of feet and the funeral song. 
 
 And now more clear 
 It swells on the ear ; 
 Breathe low, and listen, 'tis solemn to hear. 
 
 ♦' Ululu ! ululu ! wail for the dead. 
 
 ' ' Green grow the grass of Fingall on his head ; 
 
 •' And spring-flowers blossom, ere elsewhere appearing, 
 
 " And shamrocks grow thick on the Martyr for Erin. 
 
 " Ululu I ululu I soft fall the dew 
 
 '* On the feet and the head of the martyred and true." 
 
 For awhile they tread 
 
 In silence dread — 
 
 Then muttering and moaning go the crowd, 
 
 Surging and swaying like mountain cloud,
 
 176 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 And again the wail comes fearfully loud. 
 
 THE CHAUNT. 
 
 " Ululu I uhilu I kind was his heart ! 
 
 " Walk slower, walk slower, too soon we shall part. 
 
 ' ' The faithlol and pious, the Priest of the Lord, 
 
 " His pilgrimage over, he has his reward. 
 
 "By the bed of the sick, lowly kneeling, 
 
 " To God with the raised cross appealing — 
 
 " He seems still to kneel, and he seems stiU to pray, 
 
 *' And the sins of the dying seem passing away. 
 
 " In the prisoner's cell, and the cabin so dreary, 
 
 ♦' Our constant consoler, he never grew weary; 
 
 "But he's gone to his rest, 
 
 " And he's now with the blest, 
 
 " Where tyrant and traitor no longer molest — 
 
 " Ululu I ululu I wail for the dead ! 
 
 " Ululu I ululu I here is his bed." 
 
 Short was the ritual, simple the prayer, 
 Deep was the silence and every head bare ; 
 The Priest alone standing, they knelt all around, 
 Myriads on myriads, like rocks on tlie ground. 
 Kneeling and motionless — "Dust unto dust." 
 " He died as becometh the fiiitbful and just— 
 " Placing in God Ms reliance and trust ;"
 
 THE BURIAL. 177 
 
 Kneeling and motionless — ' ' ashes to ashes" — 
 
 Hollo-w the clay on the coffin-lid dashes ; 
 
 Kneeling and motionless, wildly they pray, 
 
 But they pray in their souls, for no gesture have they— . 
 
 Stern and standing — oh 1 look on them now, 
 
 Like trees to one tempest the multitude how ; 
 
 Like the swell of the ocean is rising their tow : 
 
 " We have bent and borne, though we saw him torn 
 
 from his home by the tyrant's crew — 
 "And we bent and bore, when he came once more, 
 
 though suffering had pierced him through : 
 •' And now he is laid beyond our aid, because to Ireland 
 
 true — 
 "A martyred man — the tyrant's ban, the pious patriot 
 
 slew. 
 
 '• And shall we bear and bend for ever, 
 •' And shall no time our bondage sever, 
 " And shall we kneel, but battle never, 
 
 "For our own soil? 
 " And shall our tyrants safely reign 
 " On thrones built up of slaves and slain, 
 •' And nought to us and ours remain 
 
 " But chains and toil? 
 " No 1 round this grave our oath we plight, 
 " To watch, and labour, and unite, 
 •* Till banded be the nation's might — 
 
 •• Its spirit steeled.
 
 ]7S MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 '* And then, collecting all o\ir force, 
 ' ' We'll cross oppression in its course, 
 " And die — or all our rights enforce, 
 
 " On battle field/ 
 
 Like an ebbing sea that will come again, 
 Slowly retired that host of men ; 
 Methinks tliey'll keep some other day 
 The oath they swore on the martyr's clay. 
 
 WE MUST NOT TAIL. 
 
 We must not fail, we must not fail. 
 However fraud or force assail ; 
 By honour, pride, and policy. 
 By Heaven itself! — we must be free. 
 
 Time had already thinned our chain, 
 Time would have dulled our sense of pain; 
 By service long, and suppliance vile. 
 We might have won our owner's smile. 
 
 We spurned the thought, our prison burst. 
 And dared the despot to the worst ; 
 Renewed the strife of centuries. 
 And flung our banner to the breeze.
 
 WE MPST NOT FAIL. 179 
 
 We called the ends of earth to view 
 
 The gallant deeds we swore to do ; 
 
 They knew us wronged, they knew us brave. 
 
 And, all we asked, they freely gave. 
 
 V. 
 
 We took the starving peasant's mite 
 To aid in winning back his right. 
 We took the priceless trust of youth ; 
 Their freedom must redeem our truth. 
 
 We promised loud, and boasted high, 
 " To break our country's chains, or die ;" 
 And, should we quail, that country's name 
 Will be the synonyme of shame. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Earth is not deep enough to hide 
 The coward slave who shrinks aside ; 
 HeU. is not hot enough to scathe 
 The rufl&an wretch who breaks his faiili. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 But — calm, my soul ! — we promised true 
 Her destined Tvork our land shall do ; 
 Thought, courage, patibQce will prevail ! 
 We shall not fail — ^we shall not fail (
 
 180 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 O'CONNELL'S STATUE. 
 
 (lines to hogak.) 
 
 Chisel the likeness of The Chief, 
 
 Not in gaiety, nor grief; 
 
 Change not by your art to stone, 
 
 Ireland's laugh, or Ireland's moau. 
 
 Dark her tale, and none can tell 
 
 Its fearful chronicle so well. 
 
 Her frame is bent — her wounds are deep- 
 
 Who, like him, her woes can weep ? 
 
 He can be gentle as a bride, 
 
 While none can rule with kinglier pride. 
 
 Calm to hear, and wise to prove, 
 
 Yet gay as lark in soaring love. 
 
 Well it were, posterity 
 
 Should have some image of his glee ; 
 
 That easy humour, blossoming 
 
 Like the thousand flowers of spring I 
 
 Glorious the marble which could show 
 
 His bursting sympathy for woe •
 
 o'connell's statue. 181 
 
 Could catch the pathos, flowing wild. 
 Like mol her's milk to craving child. 
 
 And oh I how princely were the art 
 Could mijuld his mien, or tell his heart- 
 When sil ting sole on Tara's hill, 
 While hung a million on his will ! 
 Yet, not in gaiety, nor grief. 
 Chisel the image of our Chief; 
 Nor even in that haughty hour 
 When a nation owned his power. 
 
 But would you by your art unroll 
 His own, and Ireland's secret soul. 
 And give to other times to scan 
 The greatest greatness of the majif 
 Fierce defiance let him be 
 
 Hurling a t our enemy 
 
 From a biise as fair and sure 
 As our love is true and pure, 
 Let his statue rise as tall 
 And firm as a castle wall; 
 On his broad brow let there be 
 A type of Ireland's history ; 
 Pious, generous, deep, and waru). 
 Strong an 1 changeful as a storm | 
 Let whole centuries of wrong 
 Upon his recollection throng —
 
 182 MISCELLANEOUS POEMa. 
 
 Strongbow's force, and Henry's wile, 
 Tudor's wrath, and Stuart's guile, 
 And iron Strafford's tiger jaws, 
 And brutal Bnmswick's penal laws ; 
 Not forgetting Saxon faith, 
 Not forgetting Norman scaith. 
 Not forgetting "William's word, 
 Not forgetting Cromwell's sword. 
 
 Let the Union's fetter vile 
 
 The shame and ruin of our isle — ■ 
 
 Let the blood of 'Ninety-Eight 
 
 And our present blighting fate — 
 
 Let the poor mechanic's lot, 
 
 And the peasant's ruined cot, 
 
 Plundered wealth and glory flown. 
 
 Ancient honours overthrown — 
 
 Let trampled altar, rifled urn, 
 
 Knit his look to purpose stern. 
 
 Mould all this into one thought, 
 
 Like wizard cloud with thunder fraught s 
 
 Still let our glories tlirough it gleam. 
 
 Like fair flowers through a flooded stream. 
 
 Or like a flashing wave at night. 
 
 Bright, — 'mid the solemn darkness bright. 
 
 Let the memory of old days 
 
 Shine through the statesman's anxious face- 
 
 Dathi's power, and Brian's fame. 
 
 And headlong Sarsfield's sword of flam^
 
 O'C0NNEI,l.'8 STATUE. 188 
 
 And the spirit of Red Hugh, 
 And the pride of 'Eighty-Two. 
 And the victories he ■won. 
 And the hope that leads him on ! 
 
 Let whole armies seem to fly 
 From his threatening hand and eye t 
 Be the strength of all the land 
 Like a falchion in his hand, 
 And be his gesture sternly grand. 
 A braggart tyrant swore to smite 
 A people struggling for their right- — 
 O'Connell dared him to the field, 
 Content to die, but never yield. 
 Fancy such a soul as his, 
 In a moment such as this, 
 Like cataract, or foaming tide. 
 Or army charging in its pride. 
 Thus he spoke, and thus he stood, 
 Proflering in our cause his blood. 
 Thus his country loves him best— . 
 To image this is your behest. 
 Chisel thus, and thus alone, 
 K to man you'd change the BionCa
 
 184 IBISCKLLANBOPS POKIWn. 
 
 THE GREEN ABOVE THE RED.* 
 
 Air — Irish Molhj O ! 
 
 F-J7LL often -when our fathers saw the Red above the 
 
 Green, 
 They rose in rude but fierce array, with sabre, pike, and 
 
 scian, 
 And over many a noble town, and many a field of dead. 
 They proudly set the Irish Green above the English Red. 
 
 II. 
 
 But in the end, throughout the laniJ, the shameful sight 
 
 was seen — 
 The English Red in triumph high above the Irish Green ; 
 But well they died in breach and field, who, as their 
 
 spirits fled, 
 Still saw the Green maintain its place above the English 
 
 Red. 
 
 • This, and the three following pieces are properly street ballads. 
 The reader must not expect depth or finish In verses of this description, 
 written for a temporary purpose. — Ed.
 
 THE GREEN ABOVE THE RED, 185 
 
 III. 
 
 And they who saw, in after times, the Red above the 
 
 Green, 
 Were withered as the grass that dies beneath a forest 
 
 screen ; 
 Yet often by this healthy hope their sinking hearts were 
 
 fed, 
 That, iu some day to come, the Green should flutter o'er 
 
 the Red, 
 
 Sure 'twas for tnis Lord Edward died, and Wolfe Tone 
 
 sunk serene — 
 Because they coula not bear to leave the Red above the 
 
 Green ; 
 And 'twas for this that Owen fought, and Sarsfield nobly 
 
 bled— 
 Because their eyes were hot to see the Green above the 
 
 Ked. 
 
 V. 
 
 So, when the strife began again, our darling Irish Green 
 Was down upon tie earth, while high the English Red 
 
 was seen ; 
 Yet still we held our fearless course, for something in us 
 
 said, 
 " Before the strife is o'er you '11 see the Gi'een above tlie 
 
 Red."
 
 )86 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 VI. 
 
 And 'tis for this we think and toil, and knowledge strive 
 
 to glean. 
 That we may pull the English Red below the Irisli Green, 
 And leave our sons sweet Liberty, and smiling plenty 
 
 spread 
 Above the land once dark with blood — the Green above 
 
 the Red! 
 
 VII. 
 
 The jealous English tyrant now has banned the Irish 
 
 Green, 
 And forced us to conceal it like a something foul and 
 
 mean ; 
 But yet, by Heavens ! he 11 sooner raise his victims 
 
 from the dead 
 Than force our hearts to leave the Green, and cotton to 
 
 the Red J 
 
 VIII. 
 
 We '11 trust ourselves, for God is good, and blesses those 
 
 who lean 
 On their brave hearts, and not upon an earthly king or 
 
 queen ; 
 And, freely as we lift our hands, we vow our blood to 
 
 slied 
 Once and for evermore to i-aise the Green above the Red 1
 
 THE VOW OF TIPPEUARY. 187 
 
 THE VOW OF TIPPERARY. 
 Air. — Tipperary. 
 
 I. 
 
 From Oarrick streets to Shannon shorCf 
 From Slieven.amon to Ballindeary, 
 
 From Longford Pass to Gaillte Mor, 
 Come hear The Vow of Tipperary. 
 
 II. 
 
 Too long we fbught for Britain's cause, 
 And of our blood were never chary ; 
 
 She paid us back with tyrant laws, 
 And thinned The Homes of Tipperary. 
 
 III. 
 
 Too long, with rash and single arm, 
 The peasant strove to guard his eyrie. 
 
 Till Irish blood bedewed each farm. 
 And Ireland wept for Tipperary. 
 
 IV. 
 
 But never more we'll lift a hand — 
 We swear by God and Virgin Mary I 
 
 Except in war for Native Land, 
 And that's The Vow of Tipperary 1
 
 188 MISCELLANEOCS POEMS. 
 
 A TLEA FOR THE BOG-TROTTERS. 
 
 " Base Bog-trotters," says the Times, 
 
 " Brown with mud, and black with crimes. 
 
 Turf and lumpers dig betimes 
 
 (We grant you need 'em), 
 But never lift your heads sublime. 
 
 Nor talk of Freedom." 
 
 Yet, Bog-trotters, sirs, be sure. 
 Are strong to do, and to endure, 
 Men whose blows are liard to cure — 
 
 Brigands ! what's in ye, 
 That the fierce man of the moor 
 
 Can't stand again ye? 
 
 111. 
 
 The common drains in Mushra m?>3{) 
 Are wider than a castle fosse, 
 (.'onnaugh t swamps are hard to cross, 
 
 And histories boast 
 That Allen's Bog has caused the loss 
 
 Of many a host.
 
 r'LEAS FOR THE nOG-TROTTKRS. 189 
 
 Oh ! were you in an Irish bog, 
 Full of pikes, and scarce of prog, 
 You'd wish your Temes-ship was incog. 
 
 Or far away, 
 Though Saxons, tliick as London fog. 
 
 Around you lay. 
 
 A SECOND PLEA FOR THE BOG- 
 TROTTERS. 
 
 The Mail says, that Hanover's King 
 Twenty Thousand men will bring. 
 And make the "base bog-trotters" slug 
 
 A piUileu ; 
 And that O'Connell high shall swing. 
 
 And others too. 
 
 There is a tale of Athens told, 
 Worth at least its weight in gold 
 To fallows of King Ernest's mould, 
 
 (The royal rover), 
 Who think men may be bought and sold, 
 
 Or ridden over. 
 M 3
 
 100 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Darius (an Imperial wretch, 
 
 A Persian Ernest, or Jack Ketch,) 
 
 Bid his knaves from Athens fetch 
 
 " Earth and water," 
 Or else the heralds necks he'd stretohj 
 
 And Athens slaughter. 
 
 The Athenians threw them in a well, 
 And left them there to help themsel', 
 And when his armies came, pell-mell, 
 
 They tore his banners. 
 And sent his slaves in shoals to hell, 
 
 To mend their manners. 
 
 Let those who bring and those who send 
 Hanoverians, comprehend 
 Persian-like may be their end. 
 
 And the " bog-trotter" 
 May drown their knaves, their banners rendj 
 
 Their armies slaughter.
 
 A SCENE IN THE SOUTH. 191 
 
 A SCENE IN THE SOUTH. 
 
 I WAS walking along in a pleasant place, 
 
 In the county Tipperary ; 
 The scene smiled as happy as the holy face 
 Of the Blessed Virgin Mary ; 
 And the trees were proud, and the sward was green. 
 And the hirds sang loud in the leafy scene. 
 
 ir. 
 
 Yet somehow I felt strange, and soon I felt sad. 
 
 And then I felt very lonely ; 
 I pondered in vain why I was not glad. 
 In a place meant for pleasure only : 
 For I thought that grief had never been there, 
 And that sin would as lief to heaven repair. 
 
 III. 
 
 And a train of spirits seemed passing me by, 
 
 The air grew as heavy as lead ; 
 I looked for a cabin, yet none could I spy 
 In the pastures about me spread ; 
 Yet each field seemed made for a peasant's cot. 
 And I felt dismayed when I saw them not.
 
 192 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 IV. 
 
 As I stayed on the field, I saw — Oh, my God ! 
 
 The marks where a cabin had been : 
 Through the midst cf the fields, some feet of the sod 
 Were coarser and far less green, 
 And three or four trees in the centre stood, 
 But they seemed to freej'e in their solitude. 
 
 V. 
 
 Sureh' here was the road that led to the cot, 
 
 For it ends just beneath the trees. 
 And the trees like mourners are watching the spot. 
 And a nnauning with the breeze ; 
 And their stems are bare with children's play. 
 But the childi-en — where, oh ! where are they ? 
 VI. 
 An old man uimoticed had come to my side, 
 
 His hand in my arm linking — 
 A reverend man, without haste or pride — 
 
 And he said : — *' I know what you're thinking; 
 •« A cabin stood once underneath the trees, 
 ** Full of khidly ones — but alas I for these I 
 
 VII. 
 " A loving old couple, and tho' somewhat poor, 
 
 " Their cliildren had leisure to play; 
 "And the piper, and stranger, and beggar were sure 
 " To bless them in going away ; 
 *' But the typhus came, and the agent too — 
 " Ah 1 need I name the Avorst of the two ?
 
 A SCENE IN THE SOUTH. 193 
 
 VIII. 
 
 * ' Their cot was unroofed, yet they strove to hide 
 
 " In its walls till the fever was passed ; 
 " Their crime was found out, and the cold ditch side 
 " Was their hospital at last : 
 " Slowly they went to poorhouse and grave, 
 "But the Lord they bent to, their souls will save. 
 IX. 
 ' ' And thro' many a field you passed, and will pass, 
 
 ' • In this lordhng's ' cleared ' demesne, 
 '* Where households as happy were once — but, alas ! 
 " They too are scattered or slain." 
 Then he pressed my hand, and he went away ; 
 1 could not stand, so I knelt to pray : 
 X. 
 ' God of justice !" I sighed, " send your spirit down 
 
 *' On these lords so cruel and proud, 
 " And soften their hearts, and relax their frown, 
 " Or else," I cried aloud — 
 " Vouchsafe thy strength to the peasant's hand 
 " To drive them at length from ofi the land !"* 
 
 • The scene is a mere actual landscape which I saw.— Avthok's 
 Note.
 
 194 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 WILLIAnt TELL AND THE GENIUS 01^ 
 SWITZERLAND.* 
 
 Tell You have no fears, 
 
 My native land ! 
 Then dry your tears, 
 And draw your brand. 
 A million made a vow- 
 To free you. — Wherefore, now, 
 Tears again, my native land ? 
 
 Genics I weep not fi-om doubt, 
 
 I weep not for dread ; 
 There's strength in your shout, 
 And trust in your tread. 
 I weep, for I look for the coming dead, 
 
 Who for Liberty's cause shall die ; 
 And I hear a wail from the widow's bed 
 
 Come mixed with our triiunph-cry. 
 Though dire my woes, yet how can I 
 Be calm when I know such suffering's nigU ? 
 
 • Just before the insuiTection which expelled the Ausbnans, Tell 
 iui>1 some of his brother coiispli'utors spent a night on tlie shore of the 
 Underwald Lake, consulting for libertj-; and while they were thus en-
 
 WILLIAM TELL. 193 
 
 HI. 
 
 Tbll. — ^Death comes to all, 
 My native land ! 
 "Weep not their fall — 
 A glorious band ! 
 Famine and slaA^ery 
 Slaughter more cruelly 
 
 Tlian Battle's blood-covered hand ! 
 
 Genius Yes, and all glory 
 
 Shall honour their grave, 
 With shrine, song, and storj% 
 Denied to the slaye. 
 Thus pride shall so mingle with sorrow. 
 
 Their wives half their weeping will stay ; 
 And their sons long to tempt on the morrow 
 
 The death they encounter to-day. 
 Tlien away, sons, to battle away ! 
 Draw the sword, lift the flag, and away ! 
 
 gagecl, the genius of Switzerland appeared to them, and slic w.aT 
 armed, but weeping. " Why weep you, mother ?" said Tell ; .and slio 
 Answered, "I see dead pah-iots, and hear their oi-phans wailuig;"— 
 and lie said again to her, " The tyrant kills us with his prisons and 
 taxes, and poisons oui' air with his presence ; war-death is better ;" 
 and she said, " It is better" — anil the cloud passed from her brow, and 
 she gave him a spear and bade hlra conquer — Author's Note.
 
 196 MISCELLANKOUS POEMS. 
 
 THE EXILE. 
 
 (paraphrased from the FRENCH.) 
 I. 
 
 I've passed through the nations unheeded, unknown 5 
 Though nil looked upon me, none called me tiieir own. 
 I shared not their laughter — they cared not my moan— 
 
 For, ah ! the poor exile is always alone. 
 II. 
 At eve, when the smoke from some cottage uprose, 
 How happy IVe thought, at the weary day's close, 
 With his dearest around, must the peasant repose ; 
 
 But, ah ! the poor exile is always alone. 
 III. 
 Where hasten those clouds ? to the land or the sea — 
 Driven on by the tempest, poor exiles, like me ? 
 What matter to either where either shaU flee ? 
 
 For, ah ! the poor exile is always alone. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Those trees they are beauteous — those flowers they are 
 
 fair; 
 But no trees and no flowers of my country are there. 
 They speak not unto me — they heed not my care ; 
 For, ah ! the poor exile is always alone.
 
 THE EXILE. 197 
 
 V. 
 
 Q'hat brook murmurs softly its way through the plain ; 
 But the brooks of my childhood had not the same strain. 
 It reminls me of nothing — it murmurs in vain; 
 For, ah ! the poor exile is always alone. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Sweet are those songs, but their sweetness or sorrow 
 No c) lari q from the songs of my infancy borrow, 
 I hear them to-day and forget them to-morrow ; 
 
 For, ah ! the poor exile is always alone. 
 
 VII. 
 
 They've asked me, " Why weep you ?" I've told them 
 
 mv woe — 
 Qhey listed my words, as the rocks feel the snow. 
 Ko sympathy bound us ; how could their tears flow ? 
 
 For, sure the poor exile is always alone. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 "WTien soft on their chosen the young maidens smile, 
 ]iik(i the dawn of the morn on Erin's dear isle, 
 With no love-smile to cheer me, I look on the while ; 
 For, ah ! the poor exile is always alone. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Like boughs rotmd the tree are those babes round their 
 
 mother, 
 Aud these friends, like its roots, clasp and grow to each 
 
 other ; 
 Biit, none call me child, and none call me brother; 
 For, ah ! the poor exile is ever alone.
 
 iOS MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 X. 
 
 Wives never clasp, and friends never smile, 
 Mothers ne'er fondle, nor maidens beguile ; 
 And happiness dwells not, except in our isle, — 
 
 And so the poor exile is always alone. 
 XI. 
 Poor exile, cease grieving, for all are like you — 
 "Weeping the banished, the lovely, and true. 
 Our country is Heaven — 'twill welcome you, too ; 
 
 And cherish the exile, no longer alone I 
 
 MY HOME. 
 
 A DREAM. 
 
 I HAVE dreamt of a home — a happy home— 
 The ficklest from it would not care to roam : 
 'Twas a cottage home on native ground. 
 Where all things glorious clustered round— 
 For highland glen and lowland plain 
 Met within that small demesne. 
 
 In sight is a tarn, with cliffs of fear, 
 Where the eagle defies the mountaineer, 
 And the cataract leaps in mad career. 
 And through oak and holly roam the deer. 
 On its brink is a ruined castle, stern, — 
 The mountains are crowned with rath and cam. 
 Robed with heather, and bossed with stone, 
 And belted with a pine wood lone.
 
 MY HOME. 199 
 
 Thro' that mighty gap in the mountain chain. 
 
 Oft, like rivers after rain, 
 
 Poured our clans on the conquered plain. 
 
 And there, upon their harassed rear, 
 
 Oft pressed the Norman's bloody spear ; 
 
 Men call it " the pass of the leaping deer." 
 
 Wild is the region, 3'^et gentle the spot- 
 As you look on the roses, the rocks are forgot ; 
 Tor garden gay, and jirimrose lawn 
 Peep through the rocks, as thro' night comes da;vn 
 
 And see, by that bum the children play ; 
 
 In that valley the village maidens stray, 
 
 Listing the thrush and the rolj^u's lay, 
 
 Listing the burn sigh back to the breeze. 
 
 And hoping — guess whom ? 'mong the thorn treee. 
 
 Not yet, dear girls — on the uplands green 
 
 Shepherds and flocks maj' still be seen. 
 
 Freemen's toils, with fruit and grain, 
 The valley fill, and clothe the plain. 
 There's the health which labour yields- 
 Labour tilling its own fields. 
 Freed at length from stranger lord — 
 From his frown, or his reward — 
 Each the owner of liis land. 
 Plenty springs beneath his hand.
 
 200 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Meet these men ou land or sea 
 
 Meet them in council, war, or glee ; 
 
 Voice, glance, and mien, bespeak them free. 
 
 Welcome greets you at their hearth ; 
 
 Reverend thej to age and worth ; 
 
 Yet prone to jest and full of mirth. 
 
 Fond of song, and dance, and crowd* — 
 
 Of harp, and pipe, and laughter loud ; 
 
 Their lay of love is low and bland. 
 
 Their wail for death is wild and grand ; 
 
 Awful and lovely their song of flame, 
 
 When they clash the chords in their country's name. 
 
 They seek no courts, and own no sway. 
 
 Save the counsels of their elders grey ; 
 
 For holy love, and homely faith, 
 
 Rule their hearts in life and death. 
 
 Yet then* rifles would flash, and their sabres smilp^ 
 
 And their pike-stafl's redden in the fight, 
 
 And young and old be swept away, 
 
 Ere the stranger in their land should sway. 
 
 But the setting sun, ere he sink in the sea. 
 Flushes and flashes o'er crag and tree. 
 Kisses the clouds with crimson sheen, 
 And sheets with gold the ocean's green. 
 
 • Con-ectly eruil, the Irish name for the violin Authoe's Notb.
 
 MT HOME. 201 
 
 Where the stately frigate lies5 in the bay, 
 The friendly fleet of the Frenchmen lay. 
 Yonder creek, and yonder shore 
 Echoed then the battle's roar ; 
 
 Where, on slope after slope, the west sun shinea, 
 
 After the fight lay our conquering lines. 
 
 The triumph, though great, had cost us dear ; 
 
 And the wounded and dead were lying near — 
 
 When the setting sun on our bivouac proud, 
 
 Sudden burst through a riven cloud. 
 
 An answering shout broke from oxir men — 
 
 Wounds and toils were forgotten then. 
 
 And dying men were heard to pray 
 
 The light would last till they passed away — 
 
 They * "iliued to die on our triumph day. 
 
 We honoured the omen, and thought on times gone, 
 
 And from chief to chief the word was passed on. 
 
 The " harp on the green" our land-flag should be, 
 
 And the siin through clouds bursting, our flag at sea. 
 
 The green borne harp o'er yon battery gleams, 
 
 From the frigate's topgallant the '• sun-burst" streams. 
 
 In that far-off" isle a sainted sngo 
 Built a lowly hermitage. 
 Where ages gone made pilgrimage. 
 Over his grave, with what weird delight, 
 The gr«y trees swim in the flooding light ;
 
 282 MISCELLANEOUS POEJIS. 
 
 How a halo clasps their solemn head, 
 Like heaven's breath on the rising dead. 
 
 Longing and languid as prisoned bird. 
 With a powerless dream my heart is stirresl. 
 And I pant to pierce beyond the tomb, 
 And see the light, or share the gloom. 
 But vainly for such power we pray. 
 God wills — enough — let man obey. 
 
 Two thousand years, 'mid sun and storm. 
 
 That tall tower has lifted its mystic form. 
 
 The yew-tree shadowing the aisle, 
 
 'Twixt airy arch and mouldering pile. 
 
 And nigh the hamlet that chapel fair 
 
 Shew religion has dwelt, and is dwelling there. 
 
 While the Druid's crom-leac up the vale 
 Tells how rites may change, and creeds may fall, 
 Creeds may perish, and rites may fall. 
 But that hamlet worships the God of all. 
 
 In the land of the pious, free, and brave. 
 Was the happy home that sweet dream gave. 
 But the mirth, and beauty, and love tliat dwell 
 Within that home — I may not tell.
 
 arv GRAVE, 203 
 
 MY GRAVE. 
 
 Shall they bmy me in the deep, 
 Where wind-forgetting waters sleep ? 
 Shall they dig a grave for me, 
 Under the green-wood tree ? 
 Or on the wild heath. 
 Where the wilder breath 
 Of the storm doth blow ? 
 Oh, no ! oh, no t 
 
 Shall they bury me in the Palace Tombp, 
 
 Or imder the shade of Cathedral domes ? 
 
 Sweet 'twere to lie on Italy's shore ; 
 
 Yet not there — nor in Greece, though I love it more 
 
 In the wolf or the vulture my grave shall I find ? 
 
 Shall my ashes career on the world-seeing wind ? 
 
 Shall they fling my corpse in the battle mound. 
 
 Where coflSnless thousands lie under the ground ? 
 
 Just as they fall they are buried so — 
 
 Oh, no 1 oh, no ! 
 
 No 1 on an Irish green hill-side. 
 
 On an opening lawn — ^but not too wide ;
 
 504 MISCELLANEOUS POEBIS. 
 
 For I love the drip of the M'ctted trees — 
 I love not the gales, but a gentle breeze, 
 To freshen the turf — ^put no tombstone there, 
 But green sods decked with daisies fair ; 
 Nor sods too deep, but so that the dew. 
 The matted grass-roots may trickle through. 
 Be my epitaph writ on my country's mind, 
 
 " He SERVED HIS COUNTRY, AND LOVED HIS JKIND," 
 
 Oh I 'twere merry unto the grave to go, 
 If one were sure to be bui-ied so.
 
 l^ 
 
 APPENDIX.
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 I. 
 
 Doep amk in ihat bed is the sword of Monro, 
 Sinw, twixt it and Donagh,* lie met Owen Roe, 
 
 Poems, psge S. 
 
 The Blackwater in Ulster is especially remarkable as the scene of 
 the two most memorable victories obtained by the Irisli over the Eng- 
 lish power for several centimes past. The particulars of these battles 
 are so little known, that it is hoped the following accounts of them, 
 taken fiom the best accessible soiu'ces, ■will be acceptable to the reader. 
 Q he first is from the pen of Mb. Davis. 
 
 THE BATTLE OF BENBURB. 
 
 (5th June, 1G16.) 
 
 The battle of Benburb was fought upon the slopes of groimd, now 
 called the Thistle Hill, fi'om being the property of the Thistles, a family 
 of Scotch fanners, now represented by a fine old man of over eighty 
 
 * .So this line runs, as origmally published, and likewise in the text 
 of the present edition. But I have a strong suspicion that the author 
 wi'ote it, — "Since 'twixt it and Oonagh,^' &c., meaning the river 
 Oonagh. Vide description of the battle, especially the first paragraph. 
 1 would not, however, alter the text, witlinut some searcti after the 
 original MS. ; or, in default of that, a critical examination of the topo- 
 grapliy of a district, in the de.'SCription of which so many enors have 
 been committed. — Ed.
 
 208 APPENDIX. 
 
 years. This ground is two and a quarter miles in a riglit line, or threi 
 by the road, from the chuix-h of Benburb, and about six miles below 
 Caledon, in tlie county Tyrone ; in the angle betsveen the Blackwater 
 nnd the Oonagh, on the Benburb side of the latter, and close to Battle- 
 ford Biidge. We aie thus particular in marking the exact place, 
 because of the blimders of many ■nriters on it. 
 
 JIajor General Robert Monro landed witli severid thousand Scots at 
 CaiTickfergus, in the midcUe of April, IGi-J, and on the 28th and 29th 
 was joined by Lord Conway and Colonel Chichester, &c., with ISOO 
 foot, live troops of horse, and two of di-agoons. Early in May, a junc- 
 tion was effected between Jlonro and Titchborne, and an army of 12,000 
 foot, and be^.veen 1,000 and 2,000 horse, was made up. Yet, with this 
 vast force, Monro achieved nothing but plunder, unless the ti'eacherous 
 seizure of Lord Antiim be an exception. Thus was the spring of 1642 
 wasted. Yet, so overwhelming was Monro's force, that the Irish cliiefs 
 were thinking of giring up the war, when, on tlie 13th July, Owen 
 Roe Mac- Art O'Neill landed at Doe Castle, coimty Donegal, and 
 received the command. 
 
 Owen Roe was bom in Ulster, and at an early age entered tlie 
 Spanish— the imperial service — influenced, doubtless, by the same 
 motives that led Marshal Mac Donald into the French — that " the gates 
 of promotion were closed at home." Owen, from his gi-eat connexions 
 and greater abilities, rose rapidly, and held a high post in Catalonia. 
 We have heard, tlu'ough Dr. Ciaitlund, the worthy head of the Sala- 
 manca College, tliat Eugenie Eufo is still remembered there. He held 
 AiTas m 16J0 against the French, and (says Caite) " surrendered it at 
 " last upon honourable tenns, yet his conduct in tlie defence was such 
 "as gave him great reputation, and prociu'ed him extraordinary 
 "respect even from the enemy." 
 
 Owen was sent for at the first outbreak in 1641, but it was not till 
 the latter end of June, 1042, that he embai'ked from Dunkirk, with 
 many of the oiScers and men of his o-rni regiment, and supplies of arm* 
 He sailed romid the north of Scotland to Donegal, wh-Ue another 
 frigate brought similar succom's to Wexford, imder Henry O'NeUl ani 
 Richard O'FarreU. Owen was immediately conducted to Charlemont, 
 and invested vrith the command of Ulster. 
 
 Immediately on Owen's landing, Lesley, Earl of Leven, and General 
 of the Scotch ti'oops, ^n■ote to him, saying " he was sorry a man of his 
 reputation and experience abroad, should come to Ireland for tlie 
 maintaining of so bad a cause;" and advising his retmn! O'Neill 
 replied, " he had more reason to come to relieve the deplorable state of his 
 country, tlian Lesley had ti march at the head of an army into Eng- 
 land agaiu.3t his Idng, at a ;lrao v/hen they (the Scots) were ah'eady
 
 BATTLE OF BENBDRB. 209 
 
 masters of all Sodtliind." No contrast could be gi'eater oi better put. 
 Lord Lcvpii immediately embarked for Scotland, telling Jloiiro, ivhom 
 he left in command, " that he -would certainly be ousted, if O'Keill 
 once got an army together." And so it turned out. Owen sustained 
 himself for four years against Monro on one side and Oniiond on the 
 other — harassed by the demands of the other provincial generals, and 
 disti'essed for want of provisions— defying Jlonro by any means to 
 compel him to fight a battle until he was ready for it. Cut at leng-th, 
 luuing his ti-oops in fine fighting order, he fought and won the greatest 
 battle fought in Ireland since the " Yellow Ford." But we must tell 
 how this came about. 
 
 Throughout 1C42, and in the summer of 1643, Jlonro made two 
 attempts to beat up O'lSTeill's quarters; and though the Irish General 
 had not one tenth of Monro's force, he compelled him to retire with loss 
 into Antrim and Down. Assailed by Stewart's army on the Donegal 
 side, Owen P!oe retreated into Longford and Lcitrim, hoping in the 
 rugged districts to nm'se up an army which would enable him to meet 
 Monro in the field. 
 
 By the autumn of 1G43, after having suffered many tiifling losses, he 
 had got togetlier a militia army of 3,000 men, and the cessation having 
 been concluded, he marched Into Meath, joined Sir James Dillon, and 
 reduced the entire distiict. In 1644, Monro's army amounting to 
 13,000 men, — O'NeiU, after having for a short time occupied great 
 part of Ulster, again returned to North Leinster. Here he was joined 
 by Lord Castlohaven with 6,000 men ; but except ti'ifling sldrmishes, 
 no engagement took place, and Castlehaveu returned, disgusted with 
 a war, which he had not patience to value, nor profundity to practise. 
 1645 passed over in similar skirmishes, in which the country suffered 
 tciTibly fi'om the plundering of Monro's anjiy. 
 
 The leaders under Owen Eoe were. Sir Phelim O'NeUl, and his 
 brother Tuvlough ; Con, Connac, Hugh, and Brian O'Neill ; and the 
 following chieftains with their clans: — Bernard Mac Mahon, the son of 
 Hugh, chief of Monaghan, and Baron of Dartiy; Colonel Mac JIahon, 
 Colonel Pati'ick JIac Neney (who was married to Helen, sister of 
 Bernard Mac Alahon); Colonel Richard O'Fcrrall of Longford; Roger 
 J1 aguire of Femianagh ; Colonel Philip O'Reilly, of BalljTiacargy castle 
 iu the county of Cavan (who was manied to Rose O'Neill, the sister of 
 Owen Roe); and the valiant Maolmora O'Reilly (kinsman to Philip), 
 who from his great strength and determined bravery, was caRed Miles 
 t!ie Slasher. The O'Reillys brought 200 chosen men of theii' o'.vn 
 name, and of the Mac Bradys, Mao C'abes, Mac Gowans, Fitzpatiicks, 
 and Fitzsimons, from Cavan. Some fighting men were also brought 
 by Mac Gaiu^an of Templeport, and Mac Ternan of Croglian ; some 
 N 3
 
 210 jiVFKiiVlX. 
 
 Connuught forces came- with the O'Rorkes, Mac Dermotts, O'Connors 
 ana O'Kellys; there came also some of the O'Donnells and ODoghertjs 
 ot Donegal ; Manus O'Canc of Deny; Sir Constantine Magennis, county 
 of Down ; the O'llanlons of Armagh, regal standard bearers of Ulster; 
 and the O'Hagans of Tyrone. 
 
 Lords Blaney, Conway, and Montgomery commanded imdcr Monro. 
 
 In the spring of 1646, Owen Roe met the Nuncio at Kilkenny, and 
 received from the council an ampler proiision than heretofore; and 
 by May he had completed his force under it to 5,000 foot and 500 
 horse. This army consisted partly of veterans trained by the four 
 preceding campaigns, and partly of new levies, whom he rapidly 
 brought, into discipline by his organising genius, and his stem punish- 
 ments. 
 
 With this force he marched into the county Armagh, and Monro, 
 healing of his movements, advanced against liim by rapid marches, 
 hoping to siuiHiso him in Annagh city. Monro's forces consisted, ac- 
 cording to all the best authorities, of fi,000 foot, SOO horse, and 7 field- 
 pieces ; though some accounts raise his foot to 8,500, and he himself 
 lowers it in his apologetic dispatch to r<,400, and states his field-pieces 
 at 6. 
 
 Simultaneously ^Yith Monro's advance, his brother. Colonel George 
 Monro, marched from Coleraine, along the west shore of Loch Neagh, 
 with three ti'oops of horse ; and a jmiction was to have been effected 
 between the two Monros and the TjTConnell forces at Glasslough, a 
 place in the county Monaghan, but only a few miles S.W. of Annagh. 
 On the 4th of Jmie Owen Eoe marched ft-om Glasslough to Benburb, 
 confident, by means of the river and hiUy country, that he could pre- 
 vent the Intended junction. Monro bivouacked the same night at 
 Hamilton's ISawn, four miles from Annagh. Before aa\vn, on Friday, 
 the 5th, Monro marched to Armagh town, bmning houses, and wasting 
 crops, as he advanced. Fearful lest his brother, who had reached 
 Diuigannon, should be cut off, he marched towards Benburb, and on 
 fintling the strength of the Irish position there, advanced up the right 
 bank of the Blackwater, hoping to tempt Owen fi-om his gi'ound. In 
 the mean time a body of Irish horse, detached against G«orge Monro, 
 had met him near Dungamion, and checked his advance, though with 
 some loss. 
 
 A good part of the day w^as thus spent, and it was two o'clock in the 
 afternoon before Monro crossed the Blackwater at Kinaird (now Ca- 
 ledon), and led his army down the left bank of the river against 
 O'NeiU. This adv;mce of Owen's to Ballykilgavin, was only to con- 
 sume time and weary the enemy, for he shortly after i-etreated to 
 linotknacliagh, wiierc he had detei mined to fights It was now past
 
 BATTLE OF BENBURB. 211 
 
 four o'clock, wlieii the enemy's foot advancsd in a cloublc line of co- 
 lumns. Tlie first line consisted of five, and tlie second of four coliuiins, 
 much too close for manoeuvring. The Irish front consisted of four, 
 and the reserve of tliree divisions, with ample room. 
 
 O'Neill's position was defended on the right by a wet hog, and on 
 the left by the jiuiction of the Blackwater and the Oonagh. In hig 
 front was rough, hillocky gi-ound, covered " -with scrogs and bushes." 
 
 Lieutenant-Colonel IJicliard O'Farrell occupied some sti-ong grounj 
 in advance of Owen's position, but Colonel Cimningham, with 500 
 musketeers, and tlie field-pieces, canled the pass, and O'FaiTell effected 
 his reti'eat with little loss, and no disorder. The field gims were 
 pushed in advance by Monro witli most of iiis cavahy, but Owen kept 
 the main body of liis horse in reserve. 
 
 A good deal of skimiishing took place, and though the enemy h.ad 
 gained much ground, his soldiers were gTowing weiuy, it was five 
 o'clock, and the evening sun of a clear and fiery Jime glared in their 
 faces. While in this state, a body of cavahy was seen advancing from 
 the north-west ; Monro declared them to be his brother's squadrons, 
 and became confident of success. But a few minutes sufllced to unde- 
 ceive him, — they were the detachments, under Colonels Bernard Mac 
 Mahon and Patinck Mac Neney, retimiing ft-om Dungamion, after 
 having driven George Monro back upon liis route 
 
 The Scotch musketeers continued for some time to gain ground 
 along the banks of the Oonagh, and tln-eatened Owen's left, till tlic 
 light cavalrj' of the Irisli broke in among them, sabred many, drove 
 the rest across the stream, and retmiied ^\ithout any loss. The battle 
 now became geuenil. The Scotch cannon posted on a slope amioycd 
 O'Neill's centie, and there seemed some danger of Monro's manoeuv- 
 ring to the west sufficiently to communicate with George Monro's coi-ps. 
 Owen, therefore, decided on a general attack, keeping only Rory Ma- 
 guire's regiment as a reserve. Ills foot moved on in steady columns, 
 and his horse in the spaces between the first and second charge of his 
 masses. In vain did Jlonro's caviilry charge this determined infantry ; 
 it threw back from its face squadron after squadron, and kept con- 
 stantly, rapidly, and evenly advancing. In vain did Lord Blaney take 
 pike in hand, and stand in the ranks. Though exposed to the play of 
 Jlonro's guns and musketrj-, the Irish infantry charged up hill with- 
 out firing a shot, and closed witli sabre and pike. They met a gallant 
 resistance. Blaney and liis men held their ground long, till the su- 
 perior vivacity and freshness of the Iiish clansmen bore him do^Ti. 
 
 An attempt was made with the columns of the rere line to regain 
 the ground ; but from the confined space in which they were drawn up, 
 the attempt to manoeuvre them only in'iduced disnraer; and just at
 
 212 APPKNPIX. 
 
 this moment, to coiiiplcto their ruin, O'NeiU's cavalry, wliceling by the 
 fl;ijiks of hia coUimns, charged the Scotch cavalry, and drove them 
 iicU-mdl upon the shaken and confused infantiy. A total route fol- 
 lowed. Monro, Lord Convray, Captain Bnrke, and forty of the horse- 
 men escaped across the Blackwatcr, hut most of the foot were cut to 
 pieces, or drowned in the river. 3,423 of the enemy were found on 
 the battle-field, and Lord llontgomeiy, with 21 officers and 150 men 
 ■were taken prisoners. O'Keill lost 70 killed (including Colonel Manus 
 Mao KelU and Oarve O'DonneU), and' 200 wounded (including Lt.-CoL 
 O'Fan-ell and Phelim Mac Tuohill O'Keill). He took all the Scots 
 artilleiy, twenty stand of colours, and all the anns, save those ol Sir 
 James Montgomeiy, whose regiment, being on Monro's extreme right, 
 effected its retreat in some order. 1,500 di-aft horses and two months' 
 provisions were also taken, but, imfortunateh', Monro's ammunition 
 blew up shortly after the battle was v,-on. Monro fled without coat or 
 ■wig to Lisbum. Jloving fi^om thence he con'mianded every household 
 to furnish two musketeers ; he v/rote an apologetic and deceptions dis- 
 patch to the Irish committee in London, bmiit Brmdrum, and deserted 
 most of Down. I'ut all his efforts would have been in vain; for O'Neill, 
 having increased his army by Scotch deserters and fi-esh le\ies, to 
 10,000 foot and 21 troops of horse, was in the very act of breaking in 
 on him, witli a certainty of expelling the last invader fi'om Lister, 
 when the fatal command of the Nmicio reached Owen at Tanderagee, 
 ordering him to march southward to support tliat factious ecclesiastic 
 against the peace. O'Neill, in an unhappy hour, obeyed the Nuncio, 
 abandoned the fruits of his splendid victory, and marched to Kilkenny. 
 
 11. 
 
 And Chwlnmonfs cannon 
 Slew many a man on 
 
 These meaaous Oe!ov>. 
 
 Poems, page 5. 
 
 The following passage ■will sufficiently explain this allusion: — 
 
 " Early in Jmie (1C02) Lord Mountjoy marched by Dundalk to 
 
 Annagh, and from thence, ■without interniption, to the banks of 
 
 tlio Elackwater, about five miles to the eastward of Portmore, and 
 
 XiHtrfr to Lougli Neagh. lie sent Sii- IMchard Moryson to the
 
 A'l TLB OF BEAL-AN-ATHA-BUIDHE. 213 
 
 north bank of the river, commenced the building of a bridge at thai 
 point, and a castle, which he named Charleraont, ft'oni his own chris- 
 tian name, and stationed a garrison of one hundred and fifty men 
 there, under the command of Captain Toby Caulflcld — the founder of 
 a noble family, wliich has held that spot from that day to this ; but 
 wlUcIi afterwards (as is usual with settlers in Ii'cland) became more 
 Irish than many of the Irish themselves." 
 
 MUcIielVs Life of AoiUi O'Neill, p. 219. 
 Vide Irish Penny Joimial for 1841-2, p. 217. 
 
 III. 
 
 JLml yondi-r Red Hugh 
 Manhal Bagenal o'ei'lltrmji 
 
 On Beal-an-alha-lmidhe. 
 
 Poems, page G. 
 
 THE BATTLE OF BEAL-AN-ATHA-BUIDHE. 
 
 (lOiH August, 1595.) 
 
 " The tenth morning of August rose bright and serene upon tlia 
 towers of Armagh and the silver waters of Avonmore. Before day 
 da^vned, the English anny left the city in three divisiuns, and at sun- 
 rise they were winding through the hiUs and woods behind the spot 
 where now stands the Uttle chm-ch of Grange. 1 he smi was glancing 
 on the corslets and spears of theu- glittering caviihy; their banners 
 waved piou'ily. and their bugles rang clear in the morning i.ir; when, 
 Buddenlj?, :rom the tnickets on both sides ot theu' path, a deadly volley 
 of musketry swept through the foremost ranlvs. O'ls'eill had stationed 
 here five hundred light- armed troojjs to guard the defiles; and in the 
 shelter of thick groves of fir-trees they had silently waited for the 
 enemy. Now they poured in their shot, volley after volley, and IdUed 
 gi-eat numbers of the English: Out the first division, led by Bagnal in 
 person, after some hard fighting, carried the pass, dislodged the marks- 
 men from their position, and diove them backwards into the plain. — 
 The centre division under Cosby and Wingfield, and the orear-guurd 
 led by Cuiu and Billing, supported in flank by the cavalry imder 
 Brooke, Montacute and Fleming, now pushed forward, speedily cleared 
 the dittioult country, and fojined in the open groimd in front of tha 
 Irish lines. ' It was not quite stifo,' says an iiish chronicler, (iu admi-
 
 214 Al'J'ENDIX. 
 
 ration of Baemal's disposition of his forces) ' to attack the nest of j?rlf- 
 tins and den of lions in which were placed tiie soldiers of London.' 
 Eagnal, at the head of his first division, and aided by a body of cavahy, 
 cliargcd tlie Irish light-amied troops up to the very entrenchments, in 
 front of which O'Neill's foresight had prepared some pits, covered over 
 with T/attles and grass; and many of the English cavalry rushing im- 
 jietuously forward, rolled hjadlong, hoth men and horses, into these 
 trenches and perislied. Still the JIarshal's chosen troops, with loud 
 cheers and shouts of 'St. George, for merry England!' resolutely at- 
 tacked the entrenchments that stretched across the pass, battered them 
 with cannon, and in one place succeeded, though with heavy loss, in 
 forcing back their defenders. Then first the main body of O'Neill's 
 ti'oops was brought into action ; and with bag-pipes sounding a charge, 
 tliey fell upon the English, shouting their fierce battle-cries, Lamh- 
 dearffj and O'DomhnaUl Abu ! O'Neill himself, at the head of a body of 
 horse, pricked forward to seek out Eagnal amidst the tlu'ong of battle; 
 but they never met: the marshal, who had done his devoir that day 
 like a good soldier, was shot through tlie brain by some unknown 
 marksman: the division he had led was forced back by the fiu'ious on- 
 shiught of the Irish, and put to utter rout; and, what added to their 
 confusion, a cart of gunpowder exploded amidst the English ranks 
 and blew many of their men to atoms. And now the cavaliy of T}t- 
 connell and Tyr-owen dash.ed into the plain and bore down the rem- 
 nant of Brooke's and rieming's horse: the columns of Wingfield and 
 Cosby reeled before their rusliing charge — while in front, to the war-ciy 
 oi Batailla Abu! the swords and axes of the heavy-anned galloglasses 
 were raging amongst the Saxon raiiks. By this time the cannon were 
 all taken; the cries of ' St. George' had failed, or turned into death- 
 shrieks ; and once more, England's royal standard sunk before the Red 
 Hand of Tyr-owen. 
 
 "The last who resisted was the ti'aitor O'Railly: tivice he tried to 
 rally the flying squadrons, but was slain in the attempt: and at last the 
 whole of that fine army was utterly routed, and fled peU-mcll towards 
 Ai-magh, with the Irish hanging fiercely on their rear. Amidst the 
 woods and marshes all connexion and order were speedily lost; and as 
 O'Donnell's chronicler has it, they were 'pursued in couples, in threes, 
 in scores, in thirties, and in hundreds,' and so cut down in detail by 
 their avenging piusuers. In one spot especially the carnage was ter 
 rible, and the country people yet point out the lane where that hideoiia 
 rout passed by, and call it to this day the ' Bloody Loaning.' Two 
 tliou.sand five hundred English were slain in the battle and flight, in- 
 cluiiing twenty-three superior officers, besides lieutenants and ensigns. 
 Twelve tliousand gold pieces, thirt)'four standards, all tlie musical
 
 CYMniC RULE AND CYMRIC RULERS. 215 
 
 instruments and cannon, -with a long train of provision wagfcons, wero 
 a j-icli spoil for the Irish army. The confederates had only two hundred 
 slain and six hundred wounded." 
 
 MitcheUs Life of Aodh O'Neill, pp. 141—14+. 
 
 IV. 
 
 CYMRIC RULE A3SID CYMRIC RULERS. 
 
 Poems, page 14. 
 
 This poem has less title than any other in Part I. to he ranked anion": 
 National (i. e. either in subject, or hy aim or allusion, Irish) Ballads 
 and Songs, unless the affinity of the CjTnric with the Irish Celts, and 
 the fact Uiat the author himself was of Welsh exti-action by the fa- 
 tliers side, he considered a sufficient justification. 
 
 Mr. Davis was veiy fond of the air — " The March of the men of 
 Harlech," to which this poem is set. To evince his strong partiality 
 for, and sympathy with, the Welsh people, it is enough to quote tha 
 foUomng passages ft'om one of his political essays, — 
 
 " M'c just now opened M'Culloch's Geographical Dictionary, to ascer- 
 tain some Welsh statistics, and foimd at the name " Wales" a reference 
 to " England and Wales," and at the latter title nothing distinct on tho 
 Principality ; and what was there, was rather inferior to the informa- 
 tion on Cumberland, or most English coimties. 
 
 " ' And has time, then,' we said, ' mouldered away that obstinata 
 and flei-y tribe of Celts which baffled the Plantagenets, which so often 
 ti'od upon the breastplates of the Norman, which sometimes bent in 
 the summer, but ever rose when the fierce elements of winter came to 
 aid the native ? Has that race passed away which stood under Llewel- 
 lyn, and rallied under Owen Glendower, and gave the Dragon flag and 
 Tudor kings to England ? Is the prophecy of twelve hundi-ed years 
 false — .are the people and tongue passed away ?' 
 
 "No! spite of the massacre of bards, and the burning of records — 
 spite of pohtical extinction, there is a million of these Kymrys in 
 Wales and its marches; and nine out of ten of these speak their old 
 tongue, foUow their old customs, sing the songs which the sleepers 
 upon Snowdon made, have their religious rites in KjTnrie, and hate 
 the Logiian as much as ever their fathei's did. * » * 
 
 " Twenty-nine Welsh members could do much if united, more espe- 
 cially if they would co-operate with the Irish and Scotch members in 
 demanding their share of the Imperial expenditure; or what would be 
 safer and better, in agitating for a lood coimcil to administer the local
 
 iJ16 APPENDIX. 
 
 affairs of the Principality. A million of the Ks-mry. who are still 
 apart in their mountains, who have immense mineral resources, and 
 some good harbours, one (Slilford) the best in Britain, and who are of 
 our blood, nearly of our old and un-English language, have as good a 
 light to a local senate, as the 700,000 people of Greece, or the half mil- 
 lion of Cassel or Mecklenburgh have to independence, or as each of 
 the States of America has to a local congress. Localisation by means 
 of Federalism seems the natural and best resource of a country like 
 Wales, to guard its purse, and langnage, and character, from imperial 
 oppression, and its soil fiom foreign invasion. As powers run, it is not 
 like Ireland, quite able, if fiee, to hold her own ; but it has importance 
 enough to entitle it to a local congress for its local affairs."' 
 
 TITE IRISH HURRAH. 
 
 Poems, page 20. 
 The second stanza of this poem, as it appears in the text, was 
 omitted by the author in a later copy ; it would seem, with a view of 
 adapting it better to the air to which it is set 
 
 VI. 
 
 A CHRISTMAS SCENE.* 
 
 Poems, page FA. 
 The first sketch of this poem differs a good deal from that in the 
 teit. It is so pleasing, that it b given here, as originally published. 
 It was then entitled : 
 
 A CHRISTMAS CAROL. 
 I. 
 The hill-blast comes howling from leaf-rifted trees, 
 Which late were aa harp-strings to each gentle breeze; 
 The sportsmen have parted, the blue-stockings gone, 
 While we sit happy-hearted — together, alou^. 
 
 II. 
 The glory of nature through the window has charms, 
 But within, gentle Kate, youre entwined in my arms; 
 The sportsmen may seek for snipe, woodcock and hare — 
 The mow is on their cheek, on mine your black hair
 
 FATE OF KING DATHI, 217 
 
 ni. 
 
 The painters may rave of the light and the shade. 
 The blues and the poets of lake, hill, and glade ; 
 W'lxile the Ught of your eye, and your soft wavy form 
 Suit a proser like me by the hearth bright and warm. 
 
 IV. 
 
 My Kate, I'm so happy, your voice •whispers soft. 
 And your cheek flushes wilder by kissing so oft; 
 Should our kiss grow less fond, or the weather serene, 
 Forth together well wander to see each loved scene. 
 
 V. 
 
 And at eve, as the sportsmen and pedants will say, 
 As they swallow their dinner, how they spent the day, 
 Tour eye, roguish-smiling, to me only will say 
 That more sweetly than any, you and I spent the day 
 
 VII. 
 
 THE FATE OF KING DATHI. 
 
 Poems, p. 77. 
 
 The real adventures of this warlike king, the last of the Pagan mo- 
 narchs of Ireland, and likewise the last who extended his conquests to 
 the continent of Europe, are, like too much of the ancient annals of this 
 country, obscured by the mixture of pious or romantic legends with 
 antheutic history. An accurate account of Dathi, and his immediate 
 predecessors will be found in the Addenda to Mr. O'Donovan's excel- 
 lent edition of the Tribes and Customs r/ the Ui-Fiachrach, printed for 
 the Irish Archseological Society ; from which the following passages 
 are extracted. 
 
 " In the life-time of Niall of the Xine Hostage^ Brian, Ms brother ol 
 the half blood, became King of Connaught, and his second brother of 
 the half-blood. Fiachra, the ancestor of the OTowds and all the Ci- 
 Fiachrach tribes, became chief of the district extending from Cara 
 Fearadhaigh, near Limerick, to !>ragh Mucroime, near Athenrj'. But 
 dissensions .^oon arose between Brian and his brother Fiachra, and the 
 result was that a battle was fought betweei them, in which the latter 
 was defeated, and deUvered as a hostage into the hands of his half- 
 brother, NiaU of the Xine Hostages. After this, however, Datlii, a 
 I'ery warlike youth, waged war on his uncle Brian, and challenged him 
 to A pitched battle, at a place called Damh-cluain, not far fi"om Knock*
 
 21S APPENDIX. 
 
 rnea-Iiil!, near Tuam. In this battle, in ^vhich Datlii was assisted by 
 Crimthann, son of Enna Cennselocb, King of I.einster, Brian and his 
 forces were routed, and pursued from tlie field of battle to Fulcha 
 Pomhnaill, wliere he was overtaken and slain by Crimthann. » * » 
 
 " After the fall of Brian, Fiachra was set at liberty and installed 
 King of Connaught, and enjoyed that dignity for twelve years, during 
 which period he was general of the forces of his brother Niall. * • 
 According to the book of Lecan, this Fiachra had five. sons, of which 
 the most eminent were Dathi, and Amhalgaidh (rulgo Awley) King of 
 Connaught, who died in the year 44l>. The seven sons of this Amlial- 
 gaidh, together with twelve thousand men, are said to have been bap- 
 tized in one day by St. Fatrick, at Forrach Mac n" Amhalgaidh, near 
 Killala. 
 
 " On the death of his father Fiachra, Dathi became King of Con- 
 naught, and on the death of his uncle, Niall of the Nine Hostages, he 
 became Monarcli of Ireland, leaving tlie government of Connaught to 
 his less warlike brother Amiialgaidh. King Dathi, following the ex- 
 ample of his predecessor, Niall, not only invaded the coasts of Gaul, 
 but forced liis way to the very foot of the Alps, where he was killed by 
 a flash of hghtning, leaving the throne of Ireland to be filled by a line 
 of Christian kings." 
 
 Tribes and Customs of Vie Ui-Fktchrach — Addenda, pp. 344 — 6. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 AEGAN MOR. 
 
 Poems, page 82. 
 
 Mr. Davis was veiy fond of the air, for which this poem was com- 
 posed, and which suggested Its name. It is a simple air, of great an- 
 tiquity, preseiTed in Bunting's Third Collection, where it is No. V. of 
 the airs marked " very ancient." The foUowmg is Jlr. Bimting's ac- 
 count of it: — 
 
 " Argan Mor.—hn Ossianic air, still sung to the words presei-ved by 
 Dr. Young, and published in the first volume of the Transactions of 
 the Royal Irish Academy. The editor took dovra the notes from the 
 singing, or rather recitation, of a native of Murloch, in the county cf 
 Antiim. This sequestered distiict lies along the sea-shore, between 
 Tor Point, and Fair Head, and is still rife with traditions, both musi- 
 cal and legendary. From the neighbouiing ports of Cushendun and 
 Cushendall was the principal line of communication with Scotland ; and, 
 doubtless, it was by this route that the Ossianic poems themselves found 
 their Wiiy into that countrj'." — Ancient Miaic of Ireland— Vxtfaix, p. S8.
 
 o'sullivan's return. 219 
 
 IX. 
 
 THE TKUE IRISH KIXG. 
 
 Poems, page 85. 
 
 In an pssay on Ballad History, Jlr. Davis refers to this poem, as an 
 attempt to shew how the materials and hints, scattered through anti- 
 quarian volumes, may he brought together and presented with effect 
 in a poetical form. The subject is one involved in unusual obscurity, 
 considering its importance in Irish History. The chief notices of the 
 custom have been collected by Mr. 0' Donovan in the Addenda to his 
 edition of the Trthes and Cvsfoms of the Ui-FiacfiracTi, pp. 425 — 452, to 
 which work the reader is referred, who may wish to trace the disjecta 
 membra poematis, in the scattered hints and traditions of which Mr. 
 Davis has availed himself. 
 
 X. 
 
 OSULLIVAN'S RETURN. 
 
 Poems, pag^ 104. 
 
 Tlie following description was prefixed to this ballad by the author, 
 on its first publication : — 
 
 " This ballad is founded on an ill-remembered story of an Irish 
 chief, returning after long absence on the Continent, and being wrecked 
 and drowned close to his own castle. 
 
 " The scene is laid in Bantry Bay, which runs up into the county of 
 Cork, in a north-easterly du'ection. A few miles from its mouth, on 
 your left-hand as j'ou go up, lies Beare Island (about seven miles long), 
 and between it and the mainland of Eeare lies Beare Haven, one of 
 the finest harbours in the world. Dunboy Castle, near the present 
 Castleto^sTi, was on the main, so as to command the south-westeni en- 
 trance to the haven. 
 
 " Further up, along the same shore of Beare, is Adragoole, a small 
 gulf off Bantry Bay. 
 
 " The scene of the viTeck is at the south-eastern shore of Bear 
 Island. A ship, steering from Spain, by Mizenhead for Dunboy, and 
 caught by a southerly gale, if unable to round the point of licarc and 
 to make the Haven, should leave hciself room to run up the bay, to- 
 wards Adiagoole, or some other shelter."
 
 220 APPENDIX. 
 
 XI. 
 
 — Dunbw!/ is lying lowly. 
 
 The halls where mirth and minstrelsy 
 
 Than Beara's wind rose louder. 
 Are flung in masses lonelily, 
 
 And black with English poicder. 
 
 Poems, pp. Ill, 112. 
 
 The destruction of O'Sullivan's Castle of Dunboy or Dunbwy, (cor- 
 rectly Dunbaoi or DwibuidJie) is well described by Mr. Mitchel: — 
 
 " Mountjoy spent that spring in Jlunster, with the President, re- 
 ducing those fortresses which stUl remained in the hands of the Irish, 
 and fiercely ci-ushing do^vn every vestige of the national war. Rich- 
 ard TyrrcU, however, still kept the field; and O'SulUvan Beare held 
 his strong castle of Dun-buidhe, which he ^Tested ftom the Spaniards 
 after Don Juan had stipulated to yield it to the enemy.* This castle 
 commanded Bantiy Bay, and was one of the most important fortresses 
 in Jlunster; and therefore Carew determined, at whatever cost, to 
 make himself master of it. Dim-buidlie was but a square tower, with 
 a court-yard and some out-works, and had but 140 men; yet it was so 
 strongly situated, and so bravely defended, that it held the Lord Pre 
 Bident and an army of four tliousand men, with a great train of artil- 
 leiy and some ships of war, fifteen days before its waUs. After a 
 breach was made, the storming parties were twice driven back to their 
 lines ; and even after the gi'eat hall of the castle was carried, the gar- 
 rison, imder their indomitable commander, Mac Geohegan, held their 
 ground in the vaults underneath for a whole day, and at last fairly 
 beat tlie besiegers out of the haU. The Englisli cannon then played 
 furiously upon the walls; and the President swore to bury these obsti- 
 nate Irish mider the niins. Again a desperate sortie was made by 
 forty men — they were all slain: eight of them leaped into the sea to 
 save themselves by swimming; but Carew, anticipating this, had sta- 
 tioned Captain Harvy, ' with three boats to keepe the sea, but had the 
 lulling of them aU ;' and at last, after Mac Geohegan was mortally 
 woimded, the remnant of. the gaiTison laid Ao-wa. their arras. Mac 
 
 » " Among other places, which were ncitlier yielded nor taken to 
 tlie end they should be delivered to the English, Don Juan tied himself 
 to deliver my castle and haven, the only key of mine inheritance, 
 whereupon tlie living of many thousand persons doth rest, that live 
 some twenty leagues upon tlie sea-coast, into the hands of my cruell, 
 cm-sed, misbelieving enemies." — Letter of Donald O'Sullivan Beai'e to 
 the King of Spain. Pac. Bib.
 
 LAMENT FOR OWEN ROE o'NEILL. 22\ 
 
 Geohegan lay, bleeding to deatli, on the floor of the vault ; yet when 
 he saw the besiegers admitted, he raised himself up, snatched a lighted 
 torch, and staggered to an open powder-barrel— one moment, and the 
 castle, with all it contained, would have nished skyward in a pp-amid 
 of flame, when suddenly an English soldier seized him in his arms: he 
 was killed on the spot, and all the rest were shortly after executed. 
 ' The whole number of the ward,' says Carew, ' consisted of one hun- 
 dred and forty-three selected men, being the best choice of all their 
 forces, of which not one man escaped, but were either slain, executed, 
 or buried in the ruins; and so obstinate a defence hath not been seen 
 within this kingdom.' Perhaps some will think that the sui^vivors of 
 so brave a band deseiTed a better fate than hanging." 
 
 Mitchels Life of Aodh ONeill, pp. 21G— 218. 
 
 XII. 
 
 LAMENT FOR OWEN ROE O'NEILL. 
 
 Poems, p. 119. 
 
 The most notable events In the career of this great chieftain, will be 
 
 found in the account of the Battle of Benburb, ante, pp. 207 — 212. The 
 
 closing scenes of his life were briefly nan'ated as follows by JIu. Da via 
 
 in a little sketch, published with this poem, when it first appeared : — 
 
 " In 1649, the country being exhausted, Owen made a truce with 
 Monk, Coote, and the Independents — a ti'uce observed on both sides, 
 though Monk was severely censured by the English Parliament for it. 
 — (Journals, 10th August, 1G49.) On its expiration, O'Neill concluded 
 a treaty with Ormond, 12th October, 1649 ; and so eager was he for it, 
 that ere it was signed, he sent over 3,000 men, under Major-General 
 O'Farrell, to join Ormond, (which they did October 25th.) Owen him- 
 self sh'ove ■nith aU haste to follow, to encounter CromweU, who had 
 marched south after the sack of Drogheda. But fate and an imscru- 
 pulous foe forbade. Poison, it is believed, had been given him either 
 at Deny, or shortly after. His constitution stniggled with it for some 
 time; slowly and sinking he marched through TjTone and Monaghan 
 into Cavan, and, — anxiously looked for by Ormond, O'FaiTcll, and the 
 southern corps and anny, — lingered till the 6tli of November (St. Leo- 
 nard's feast), when he died at Clough Oughter Castle, — then the seat 
 of Maelmon-a O'Reilly, and situated on a rock In Lough Oughter, some 
 six miles west of Cavan. He' was bmied, says Carte, in Cavan Abbey ; 
 but reyort says his sepulchre was concealed, lest it should be violated 
 by the Engiisii. The news of his death reached Ormonds camp when 
 the Duke was preparing to fight Cromwell, — when Owen's genius and
 
 222 APPENDIX. 
 
 soldiers were most needed. All -miters (even to the sceptical Dr. O'Conor, 
 of Stowe) admit that had Owen lived, he woiUd have saved Ireland. 
 His gallantry, his influence, his genius, his soldiers, all combine to ren- 
 der it probable. The rashness with which the stout bishop, Ebher JIac 
 Mahon, led 4,000 of Owen's veterans to death at Letterkenny, the year 
 after; and the way in wliich Ormond frittered away the sti'engtli of 
 OTarrell's division (though 1,200 of them slew 2,000 of Cromwell's 
 men in the breach at Clonmcl), — and the utter prostration which fol- 
 lowed, showed Ireland how great was her loss when Owen died. 
 
 "O'Fan'ell, I^ed Hugh O'Neill, and Mac Mahon, were Ulster generals; 
 Audley, Lord Castlehaven, and Preston, commanded in the south and 
 east; the Marquis of Clanrickarde was president of Connaught." 
 
 XIII. 
 
 A RALLY FOli IRELAND 
 
 Poems, page 122. 
 
 There is no period in Irisli, or In English Historj', which has been so 
 much misrepresented, or of which so utterly discordant opinions are still 
 entertained, as the Revolution of 168S — 91. The English histoj^ of that 
 revolution has been elaborately sifted, and its hidden causes succes- 
 sively dragged to light, by men of remarkable eminence in literature 
 and in politics. It is sufficient to mention in England, Mr. Fox, Sir 
 James Mackintosli, Mr. Hallam, Dr. Lingard, and Mr. Ward; — in 
 France, M. Thieny (Historical £ssaijs, No. VI.,) M. Carrel, and M. 
 De Mazire, — and among Irishmen, Mr. W. AVallace, {Continuation of 
 Maclcintosh's Histoiy,) and Mr. ToiTens Mac Cullagh, (Articles in the 
 N'orih of England Magazine, for 1842, and in the Dublin Magazine, for 
 1S43. ) A minute study of some at least of these writers, — Jlr. Wal- 
 lace's History is, perhaps, on the whole, the fairest and most compre- 
 hensive, — is indispensable to a correct understanding of the Irisli 
 question. 
 
 In the Dublin Magazine, for \Qi", .January to April, Mr. Davis 
 devoted a series of papers to a critical examination of some of the 
 Irish autliorities on this subject, principally in regard to the Irish 
 Parliament of 1689. His aim was to vindicate the character of that 
 legislatiu-e, and to refute some of the most glaring falsehoods, which 
 liad hitherto by dint of impudent reasscrtion, passed almost unques- 
 tioned by Irishmen of every shade of political opinion. Falsehoods of 
 a more injmious tendency have never been cuiTent among a people ; 
 and the ctfort to expose them was with Mr. Davis, a labour of zeal
 
 SKETCH OF TIIK IRISH BRIGADE. 223 
 
 and love; for lie knew well, how much of the religious disseusicn 
 which has been and is the ruin of Ireland, took its rise from, and 
 stands rooted in, erroneous conceptions of that time. To these papers 
 the reader is rcfeiTed, who is anxious to form an accurate, and witlial 
 a national, judgment of the cardinal crisis in Irish Histoiy. 
 
 How high the hopes of Ireland were at the commencement of this 
 struggle, and how she cherished afterwards the memories and hopes 
 bequeathed from it, is abundantly illustrated by the Jacobite Relics in 
 Mr. Hardiman's Irish Minstrelsy, and in the more recent collection of 
 Mr. Daly. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 BALL.VDS AND SONGS OF THE BRIGADE. 
 
 Poems, pp. 133 to 153. 
 
 So considerable a space in this volume is occupied by poems, founded 
 on the adventures and services of the Irish Brigade, that it seemed 
 right to include here the foUowing sketch, ^viitten by Mr. Davis in the 
 year 1844:— 
 
 HISTORICAL SKETCH OF THE IRISH BRIGADE. 
 
 INTBODnCTION. 
 
 The foreign military achievements of the Irish began on their o-^-n 
 account. They conquered and colonized Scotland, frequently oveiTan 
 England during and after the Roman dominion there, and more than 
 once penetrated into Gaul. During the time of the Danish invasion, 
 they had enough to do at home. The progress of the English conquest 
 brought them again to battle on foreign giound. It is a melancholy 
 fact, tliat in the brigades wherewith Edward I. ravaged Scotland, there 
 were numbers of Irish and Welsh. Yet Scotland may be content; 
 Wales and Ireland suffered from the same baseness. The sacred 
 heights of Snowdon (the Parnassus of Wales) were lirst forced by Gas- 
 con mountaineers, whose independence had perished ; and the Scotch 
 did no small share of blood-work for England here, from the time of 
 Monro's defeats in the .Seventcentli Century, to the Fencible victories 
 over drun]<en peasants in 1708. 
 
 In these levies of Edward I., as in those of his son, were numbers 
 of native Irish. TJie Connaught clans in particular seem to have 
 served these Plantagenets. 
 
 From Edward Bruce's invasion, the English control was so broken 
 that the Irish clans ceased to serve altogether, and indeed, shortlj
 
 224 APPENDIX. 
 
 after, made nimy of the Anglo-Irish pay thera ti'ibute. But the lords 
 of the Pale took an active and prominent part in the wars of the Roses; 
 and their vassals sliared the victories, the defeats, and the eaniage of 
 the time. 
 
 In the Continental wars of Edward III. and Ileni-y V., the Norman- 
 Irish served with much distinction. 
 
 Henry VIII. demanded of the Irish govoniment 2000 men, 1000 of 
 whom were, if possible, to he gunners, i. e. armed with matchlocks 
 The services of "these Irish dm'ing the short war in France, and espe- 
 cially at the siege of Boulogne, are well known. 
 
 At the submission of Irehmd in 1603, O'Sullivan Bearra and some 
 others excepted ti-om the amnestj-, took sen'ice and obtained high rank 
 in Spain ; and after the flight of O'Neill and O'Donnell in 1607, num- 
 bers of Irish crowded into all the Continental services. We find them 
 holding commissions in Spain, France, Austria, and Italy. 
 
 Scattered among " Straff'ctrd's Letters," various indications are dis- 
 coverable of the estimation in which the Irish were held as soldiers in 
 foreign seiTices during the early part of the seventeenth century. The 
 Spanish government in particular seems to have been extremely desi- 
 rous of enlisting in Ireland, their own troops at that time being equal, 
 if not. superior, to any in tlie world, especially their infantiy. 
 
 Nor were the Irish troops less active for the English king. Sti'afford 
 had Increased the Irish anny. These he paid regularly, clothed well, 
 and frequently " drew out in large bodies." He meant to oppress, but 
 discipline is a precious thing, no matter who teaches it — a Strafford or 
 a Wehington; and dm'ing the wars which followed lUil, some of these 
 ti'oops he had raised, serix-d li-eland. In icao, when the first row with 
 the Scotch took place, "Wentworth was able to send a garrison of 500 
 Irish to Carlisle, and other forces to assist Charles. And the victories 
 of Montrose were owing to the valour and discipline of the Irish aux- 
 iliaries under Colkitto (left-handed) Allster Jlac Donnell. 
 
 Many of the Irish who had lost their fortunes by the Cromwelllan 
 wars, served on the Continent. 
 
 TyrconneU increased the Irish army, but with less judgment than 
 Strafford. Indeed, numbers of hi3 regiments were iU-ofBcered mobs, 
 and, when real work began in 16S9, were ilisbanded as having neither 
 arms nor disciplme. His sending of the Irish ti'oops to England hastened 
 the Revolution by exciting jealousy, and they were too mere a handfid 
 to resist. They were forced to enter the senlce of German princes, 
 especially the Rrussian. 
 
 [An account of thejormation of the Irish Brigade, with the names and 
 numbers of the regiments, dr., is omitted here, as more accurate details tcill 
 be found in '' The Ilisiunj of the Irish Brigade," which it to appear in the 
 '^Library of IreUtud."]
 
 SKETCH OF THE IRISH BRIGADE. 223 
 
 SERVICES OF THE IRISH BRIGADE. 
 
 The year beiore the English Revolution of '88, William effected 
 the league of Augsburg, and combined Spain, Italy, Holland, and the 
 empire, against France ; but, except some sieges of imperial towns, 
 the war made no gi"eat progress tUl 1G90. In that year France blazed 
 out ruin on aU sides. The Palatinate was ovemin and devastated. — 
 The defeat of Humieres at Valcourt was overweighed by Luiembiu'gh's 
 great victory over Prince Waldech at Fleurus. 
 
 But, as yet, no Irish troops served north of the Alps. It was other- 
 wise in Italy. 
 
 The l^uke of Savoy having joined the AlUes, Marshal Catinat en- 
 tered his teiTitories at the head of 18,000 men. Mountcashel's brigade, 
 wliich landed in May and had seen service, formed one-third of tliis 
 corps. Catinat, a disciple of Turenne, relied on his infantiy; nor did 
 he err in this instance. On the 8th of August, 1690, he met the Duke 
 of Savoy and Prince Eugene at Staffardo, near Salucco. The battle 
 began by a feigned attack on the Allies' right wing. The real attack 
 was made by ten battalions of infantry, who crossed some marshes 
 heretofore deemed impassable, turned the left wing, commanded by 
 Prince Eugene, drove it in on the centi'e, and totally routed the enemy. 
 The Irish troops ("bog-tiotters," the Ti'mes calls us now) proved that 
 there are more qualities in a soldier than the light step and hardy 
 fi'ame which the Irish bog gives to its inhabitants. 
 
 But the gaUant Mountcashel received a wound, of which he died 
 Boon after at Bareges. 
 
 This same brigade continued to serve under Catinat throughout the 
 Italian campaigns of '91, '92, and '93. 
 
 The principal action of this last year was at Marsiglia on the 4th Oc- 
 tober. It was not materially different in tactic from Staffardo. Catinat 
 cannonaded the Allies from a height, made a feigned attack In the centre 
 while his right wing lapped roimd Savoy's left, tumbled it in, and 
 routed the army with a loss of 8,000, including Duke Schomberg, son 
 to him who died at the Boyne. On this day, too, the Mimster soldiere 
 had their full share of the laurels. 
 
 They continued to serve during the whole of this war against Savoy ; 
 and when, in 179G, the Duke changed sides, and, uniting his forces 
 with Catinat's, laid siege to Valenza in North Italy, the Lish dis- 
 tinguished themselves again. No less than sis. Irish regiments were 
 at this siege. 
 
 While these campaigns were going on in Italy, the gaiTison 
 of Limerick landed in France, and the second Irish Brigade was 
 foimed. 
 
 Tlie Flanders campaign of '91 hardly went beyond skirmishes.
 
 226 APPENDIX. 
 
 Louis openerl 1692 by besieging Namm- at the head of 120,000 men, 
 including the bulk of the Irish Brigade. Luxemburgh was the actual 
 commander, and 'S'auban the engineer. Namui', one of tlie greatest 
 fortresses of Flanders, was defended by Coehorn, the all but equal of 
 Vauban ; and William advanced to its relief at the head of 100,000 men, 
 — ilusti'ious players of that fearful game. But French and Msh valour, 
 pioneered by Vauban and manoeuvred by Lusemburgh, prevailed. In 
 seven days Namur was taken, and shortly after the citadel sun-en- 
 dered, though witliin shot of William's camp. 
 
 Louis returned to Versailles, and Luxembm'gh continued his 
 progress. 
 
 On the 24th of July, 1692, WUliam attempted to steal a victory 
 fi'om the Marshal who had so repeatedly beaten him. Having forced 
 a spy to persuade Luxcmburgh that the Allies meant only to forage, 
 he made an attack on the French camp, tlien placed between Steen- 
 kirk and Enghien. Wirtemburg and JIackay had actually penetrated 
 the French camp ere Luxembiirgh mounted his horse. But, so rapid 
 were his movements, so skilfully did he di^^de the Allies and crush 
 Wirtemburg ere Count Solmes could help him, that the enemy was 
 driven off with the loss of a,OUO men, and many colours and cannon. 
 
 Sajsfield, who commanded the Brigade that day, was publicly 
 thanked for his conduct. In March, 1693, he was made a Mareschal 
 de Camp. 
 
 But his pi'oud cai'eer was drawing to a close. He was slain on the 
 2!ith July, lli9.3, at Landon, heading his counti-jTncn in the van of 
 victory, King William flying. He could not have died better. His 
 last thoughts were for his countiy. As he lay on the field xmlielmed 
 and dying, he put his hand to his breast. When he took it away, it 
 was fiill of his best blood. Looking at it sadly with an eye in which 
 ■victory shone a moment before, he said faintly, "Oh! that this were 
 for Ireland." He said no more; and history records no nobler saying, 
 nor any more becoming death.* 
 
 It is needless to follow out the details of the Italian and Flanders 
 campaigns. SuiBce that bodies of the Irish troops soiTed In each of 
 the great anuies, and maintained their position in the French ranks 
 during years of hard and incessant war. 
 
 James II. died at St. Gennain's on the IGth September, 1701, and 
 was buried iu the church of the English Benedictines in Paris. But 
 
 * According to Mr. O'Conor, (Military History of the Irish Nation, 
 p. 22-).) "tliere was no Irish coi-ps in the army of Luxeraburgh, and 
 Sarsfield fell leading on a charge of strangers." But this Only makes 
 his deatli, and the regrets which accompanied it, the more affecting. Ed,
 
 SKETCH OF THE IRI.SH BRIGADE. 227 
 
 his death did not affect the Biigade. Louis immediately acknowlcdgefl 
 his son James III., and the Brigade, upon wliich the king's liopes of 
 restoration lay, was continued. 
 
 In 1701, Sheldon's cavalry, then serving under Catinat in Italy, had 
 an engagement with the cavaliy corps under the famous Coimt Merci, 
 and handled them so roughly that Sheldon was made a lieutenant- 
 general of France, and the supernumeraries of his coi"ps were put on 
 full pay. 
 
 In January, 1702, occurred the famous rescue of Cremona. Villeroy 
 succeeded Catinat in August, 1701, and having with his usual rashness 
 attacked Eugene's camp at Chiari, he was defeated. Both parties 
 retired eai'ly to winter quarters, Eugene encamping so as to blockade 
 Mantua. While thus placed, he opened an intrigue with one Cassoli, 
 a priest of Cremona, where Villeroy had his head quarters. An old 
 aqueduct passed under Cassoli's house, and he had it cleared of mud 
 and weeds by the authorities, under pretence that his house was 
 injured from want of drainage. Having opened this way, he got seve- 
 ral of Eugene's grenadiers into the town disguised, and now at the enil 
 of January all was ready. 
 
 Cremona lies on the left bank of the river Po.* It was tlien five 
 miles round, was gnuirded by a strong castle and by an enceinte, or con- 
 tinued fortification all round it, pierced by five gates. One of theso 
 gates led almost directly to tlie bridge over the Po. This bridge was 
 fortified by a redoubt. 
 
 Eugene's design was to surprise the town at night. He meant to 
 penetrate on tno sides, south and nortli. Prince Charles of \'aude- 
 mont crossed the Po at Firenzola, and marching up the right bank 
 with 2,500 foot and 500 horse, was to a.^sault the bridge and gate of 
 tlie Po, as soon as Eugene had entered on the north. As this northern 
 attack was more complicated, and as it succeeded, it may be best 
 described in the narrative of events. 
 
 On the 31st of January Eugene crossed the Oglio at Ustiano, and 
 approached the north of the town. Marshal Villeroy had that niglit 
 returned from a war comicil at Milan. 
 
 At 3 o'clock in the morning of the 1st of February, the allies closed 
 in on the to^vn in the following order: 1,100 men under Count Kufstein 
 entered by the aqueduct ; 300 men were led to the gate of St. Jlar- 
 garct's, whlcli had been walled up, and immediately commenced 
 removing the wall from it ; meantime, the other troops imder Kufstein 
 
 * In talking of right or left banks of rivers, you are supposed to be 
 looking down the stream. Tlun, Connaught is on the right bank of 
 the Sliannon ; Leinsttr and Munster on its left bank.
 
 2'28 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 pushed on and secured the ramparts to some distance, and as soon as 
 the gate was cleared, a vanguard of horse under Count Merci dashed 
 through the town. Eugene, Staremberg, and Prince Commerci fol- 
 lowed with 7,000 horse and foot. Patrols of cavalry rode the sti-eets; 
 Staremberg seized the great square; the baiTacks of four regiments 
 were surrounded, and the men cut do^vn as they appeared. 
 
 Marshal VOleroy hearing the tumult, hastily burned his papers and 
 rode out attended only by a page. He was quickly snapped up by a 
 party of Eugene's cavaliy commanded by an Irishman named Jlac- 
 donnell. Villeroy seeing himself in the hands of a soldier of foi-tmie, 
 hoped to escape by bribery. He made offer after offer. A thousand 
 pistoles and a regiment of horse were refused by this poor Irish captain ; 
 and Villeroy rode out of the town with his captor. 
 
 The Marquis of Mongon, General Crenant, and other officers, shared 
 the same fate, and Eugene assembled the to^vn council to take an oath 
 of allegiance, and supply hira witli 14,000 rations. All seemed lost. 
 
 All was not lost. The Po gate was held by -35 Irishmen, and to 
 Merci's charge and shout they answered vnth a fire that forced their 
 assailant to pass on to the rampart, where he seized a battery. This 
 unexpected and almost rash resistance was the veiy tiuniing point of 
 the attack. Had Merci got this gate, he nad only to ride on and open 
 the bridge to Prince Vaudemont. The entry of 3,000 men more, and 
 on that side, woiUd have soon ended the contest. 
 
 Not far from this same gate of the Po were the quarters of two Irish 
 regiments, Dillon (one of Moimtcashel's old brigade) and Burke (the 
 Athlone regiment). Dillons regiment was, in Colonel Lacys absence, 
 commanded by JIajor Mahony. He had ordered his regiment to as- 
 semble for exercise at day-break, and lay down. He was woke by the 
 noise of the Imperial Cuirassiers passing his lodgings. He jumped up, 
 and finding how things were, got off to the two corps, and found them 
 turning out in thei; s'jiits to check the Imperialists, who swanned 
 round their quarters. 
 
 He had just got his men together when General D'Arenes came up, 
 put himself at the head of these regiments, who had nothing but their 
 muskets, shii-ts, and cartouches about them. He instantly led them 
 agains/ Merci's forcy, and after a sharp struggle, drove them from the 
 ramparts, killing large numbers, and taking many prisoners, amongst 
 others Macdonnell, who returned to fight after securing Villeroy. 
 
 In the mean time Estragues regiment had made a post of a few 
 houses in the great square: Count Ile\-el had given the word " French 
 to the ramparts," and retook All-Saints' Gate, while 51. Praslin made 
 head against the Imperial Cavalry patroles. Cut when Eevel at- 
 tempted to push furlhor round the ramparts and regain St. Margaret's
 
 SKETCH OF THE lUISH BRIGADE. 229 
 
 Gate, he was repulsed with heavy loss, and D'Arenes, who seems to 
 have been every where, was wounded. 
 
 It was now ten o'clock in the day, and Mahony had received orders 
 to fight his way from the Po to the Mantua Gate, leaving a detach- 
 ment to guard the rampart from which he had driven Merci. He 
 pushed on, driving the enemies' infantry before him, but suffering 
 much from their fire, when Baron Freiberg at the head of a regiment 
 of Imperial Cuirassiers, burst into Billon's regiment. For a whilo 
 their case seemed desperate ; but almost naked as they were, they 
 grappled with their foes. The linen shirt and the steel cuirass— the 
 naked footmen and the harnessed cavalier met, and the conflict was 
 desperate and doubtful. Just at this moment Mahony gi'asped tho 
 bridle of Freiberg's horse, and bid him ask quarter. " Xo quarter to- 
 day,'' said Freiberg, dasliing his spurs into his horse; he was instantly 
 shot. The Cuirassiers saw and paused ; the Irish shouted and slashed 
 at them. The volley came better and the sabres wavered. Few of 
 the Cuirassiers lived to fly; but all who survived did fly: and there 
 stood these glorious fellows in the wintjy streets, bloody, triumphant 
 half-naked. Bourke lost seven officers and forty-two soldiers killed, 
 and nine officers and fifty soldiers wounded; Dillon had one officer 
 and forty-nine soldiers killed, and twelve officers and seventy-nine sol- 
 diers wounded. 
 
 But what matter for death or wounds! Cremona is saved. Eugeno 
 waited long for Vaudemont, but the French, guarded from Merci's 
 attack by the Irish picquet of 35, had ample time to evacuate the re- 
 doubt and ruin the bridge of boats. 
 
 On hearing of Freiberg's death, Eugene made an effort to keep the 
 town by frightening the council. On hearing of the destruction of tho 
 bridge, he despaii-ed, and effected his retreat with consummate skill, 
 retaining Villeroy and 100 other officers prisoners. 
 
 Europe rang with applause. Mr. Forman mentions what we think 
 a very doubtful saying of King 'William's about this event. There is 
 no such question as to King Louis. He sent his public and formal 
 thanks to them, and raised their pay forthwith. We would not like to 
 meet the Irishman who, knowing these facts, would pass the north of 
 Italy, and not track the steps of the Irish regiments through the streets 
 and gates and ramparts of Cremona. 
 
 In the campaigns of 1703, the Irish distinguished themselves under 
 "Vendome in Italy, at Vittoria, Luzzara, Cassano, and Calcinato, and 
 still more on the lihinc. When Villars won the battle of Freifllingcn, 
 the Irish had their share of the glory. At Spires, when Tallard de- 
 feated the Gei-mans, they had more. Tallard had surprised the enemy, 
 bat their commander, the Prince of Hf.ise, rallied his men . and alfhough 
 he had three horses shot under him, he repelled tl t attack and t-""
 
 230 APPiiNDrx. 
 
 getting his troops well into hand. At this crisis Nm^'enfs ivgiment of 
 horse was ordered to charge a corps of German cuirassiers, f liey did 
 so effectually. Tlie German cavaliy was cut up ; the French infimtry 
 thus covered returned to their work, and Hesse was finally defeated 
 with immense loss. 
 
 And now the foi'tunes of France began to waver, but tlie valour of 
 the Brigade did not change. 
 
 It is impossible in our space to do more than glance at the battles in 
 which they won fame amid general defeat. 
 
 At the battle of Flochstet or Blenheim in 1704, Marshal Tallard was 
 defeated and taken prisoner by Marlborough and Eugene. The French 
 and Bavarians lost 10,000 killed, 1.3,000 prisoners, and 90 pieces of 
 cannon. Yet amid this monstrous disaster, Clare's dragoons were vic- 
 torious over a portion of Eugene's famous cavalry, and took two 
 standards. And in the battle of Ramillies in 1706, where Villeroy was 
 titterly routed, Clare's di'agoons attempted to cover the wreck of the 
 reti'eating French, broke through an English regiment, and followed 
 them into the thronging van of the AlUes. Mr. Fonnan states that 
 they were generously assisted out of this predicament by an Italian re- 
 giment, and succeeded in carrying off the English colours they had 
 taken. 
 
 At the sad days of Oudcnarde and Malplaquet, some of them were 
 also present; but to the victories which brightened this time, so dark 
 to France, the Brigade contributed materially. At the battle of Al- 
 manza (13th March, 1707), several Irish regiments seiwed imder Ber- 
 wick. In the early part of the day the Portuguese and Spanish auxi- 
 liaries of England were broken, but the English and Dutch fought suc- 
 cessfully for a long time ; nor was it till repeatedly charged by the elite 
 of Berwick's anny, including the Irish, that they were forced to reti'eat. 
 S,000 killed, 10,000 prisoners, and 120 standards attested the magni- 
 tude of the victoiy. It put King Philip on the throne of Spain. In 
 the siege of Barcelona, Dillon's regiment fought with great effect. In 
 their ranks was a boy of twelve years old ; he was the son of a Galwa/ 
 gentleman, Mr. Lally or O'Lally of Tulloch na Daly, and his imcle had 
 sat in James's parliament of lfiS9. This boy, so early trained, was 
 afterwards the famoiLs Count Lally de Tollcndal, whose services in 
 every part of the globe malce his execution a stain upon the honom- as 
 well as upon the justice of Louis XVI. And when Villars swept off 
 the whole of Albemarle's battalions at Denain, in 1712, the Irish were 
 in his van. 
 
 The treaty of Utrecht and the dismissal of Marlborough put an end 
 to the war in Flanders, but still many of the Irish continued to servo 
 ill Italy and Germany, and thus fought at Panna, Guastalla, and Phi
 
 SKETCH OF THE IRISH BRIGADE. 231 
 
 "apburg. In the next war their grout iind-pccuUar achievement was 
 at the battle of Fontcnoy. 
 
 Louis in person Iiad laid siege to Toumay: Marshal Saxe was the 
 actual commander, and had under him 79,000 men. The Duke of 
 Cumberland advanced at the head of 55,000 men, chiefly English and 
 Dutch, to relieve the town. At the Duke's approach, Saxe and the 
 King advanced a few miles from Tom'uay with 45,000 men, leaving 
 18,0'}0 to continue the siege, and 6,000 to guard the Scheld. Saxe 
 posted his army along a range of slopes thus: his centre was on the 
 village of Fontcnoy, his left stretched off through the wood of Barri, 
 his right reached to the toAv-n of St. Antoine, close to the Scheld. He 
 fortified his right and ccnti'e by the villages of Fontenoy and St. An- 
 toine, and redoubts near them. His extreme left was also strengthened 
 by a redoubt in the wood of Barri, but his left centre, between th'it wood 
 and the village of Fontenoy, was not guarded by any thing save slight 
 lines. Cumberland had the Dutch, under Waldeck, on his left, and twice 
 tliey attempted to carry St. Antoine, but were repelled with lieavy loss. 
 'Ilie same fate attended the English in the centime, who thrice forced 
 tlieir way to Fontenoy, but returned fewer and sadder men. Ingoldsby 
 was then ordered tc attack the wood of Barri with Cumberland's light. 
 He did so, and broke into the wood, when 1l:e artillery of tlie redoubt 
 suddenly oppened on him, which, assisted h* a constant fire from the 
 French tirailleurs (light infanti-y), di'ovc Irin back. 
 
 The Duke resolved to make one great and final effort. Ke selected 
 his best regiments, veteran English coi^ps, and formed them into a sin- 
 gle column of 6,000 men. At its head were "six cannon, and as many 
 more on the flanks, wliich did good service. Lord John Hay com- 
 manded this great mass. 
 
 Every thing being now ready, the column advanced slowly and 
 evenly, as if on the parade groimd. It mounted the slope of Saxe's 
 position, and pressed on between the wood of Ban-i and the village of 
 Fontenoy. In doing so, it was exposed to a cruel fire of artillery and 
 sharp-shooters; but it stood the storm, and got behind Fontenoy. The 
 moment the object of the colmnn was seen, the French ti'oops were 
 hmTied in upon them. The cavaliy charged ; but the English hardly 
 paused to ofter the raised bayonet, and then pom'ed in a fatal fire. 
 They disdained to rush at the picked infantry of France. On they 
 went till within a short distance, and then thi'cw in their' balls with 
 gi-eat precision, the officers actually laying their canes along the mus- 
 kets, to make the men fire low. JIass after mass of infantry was bro- 
 ken, and on went the column, reduced, but stiU apparently invincible. 
 Due lUchelieu had four cannon hm'ried to the front, and he literally 
 battered the head of the columa, while the household cavalry but-
 
 232 APPENDIX. 
 
 rounded them, and, in repeated charges, wore down their strength ; 
 but tliese French were fearful sufferers. Louis was about to leave the 
 field. In this juncture Saxe ordered up his last reserve — the Irish Bri- 
 gade. It consisted that day of the regiments of Clare, Lally, Dillon, 
 Berwick, Eoth, and Buckley, with Fitzjames's horse. O'Brien, Lord 
 Clare, was in command. Aided by the French regiments of Nor- 
 mandy and Vaissoany, they were ordered to charge upon the flank of 
 the English witli fi.xed bayonets, without firing. Upon the approach 
 of this splendid body of men, the English were halted on the slope of 
 a hUl, and up that slope the Brigade rushed rapidly and in fine order. 
 " They were led to immediate action, and the stimulating cry of 
 ' Cuimhnigidh ar Luimneac agus arfheile na Sacsanach' * was re-echoed 
 fi-om man to man. The fortime of the field was no longer doubtful, 
 and victory the most decisive crowned the arms of France." 
 
 The English were weary \^^th a long day's fighting, cut up by cannon, 
 charge and musketiy, and dispirited by the appearance of the Bri- 
 gade — fresh, and consisting of young men in high spirits and disci- 
 pline — still they gave their fire well and fatally: but they were literally 
 stunned by the shout and shattered by tlie Iri.sli charge. They broke 
 before the Irish bayonets, and tumbled down the far side of the hiU, 
 disorganized, hopeless, and falling by hundreds. The Irish ti'oops did 
 not pursue them far: the French cavalry and light troops pressed on 
 till the relics of the column were succoured by some English cavalry, 
 and got within the batteries of their camp. The victory was bloody 
 and complete. Louis is said to have ridden down to the Irish bivouac, 
 and personally thanked them; and George II., on hearing it, uttered 
 that memorable imprecation on the Penal Code, " Cursed be the laws 
 which deprive me of such subjects." The one English voUey, and the 
 short struggle on the crest of the hill, cost the Irish dear. One fourth 
 of the officers, including Colonel DUlon, were killed, and one third of 
 the men. 
 
 Their history, after Fontenoy, may be easily given. In 1747, they 
 carried the village of Laufeldt, after three attacks, in which another 
 Colonel Dillon, 130 other officers, and 1,G00 men were killed; and In 
 1751 they were at Maestricht. Lally 's regiment served in India, and 
 the other regiments in Germany, during the war from 17.5 G to 17C2; 
 and during the American war, they fought in the Frencli West India 
 Islands. 
 
 At this time they were greatly reduced, and at the Revolution, com- 
 pletely broken up. 
 
 * ' Remember Limerick and British faith.', 
 THE END.
 
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