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TIIH 
 
 f^f 
 
 
 ffp if Kfitififcl: 
 
 A POEM. 
 
 IN 
 
 THREE CANTOS. 
 
 liy J. H. aiLDEA. 
 
 Nciv Havoi)^ <'onii. 
 
 J^EW j^AVEN : 
 IIOGOSON A ROnlNSON, PRIXTERS. 
 
 1878. 
 
-■S. 
 
 V 
 
THE 
 
 
 fejl^ 
 
 """liTTtriirl : 
 
 *g.'^ 
 
 A POEM. 
 
 IN 
 
 THREE CANTOS. 
 
 y 
 
 By J. 1 1. CJILDEA, 
 
 New Haven, Conu* 
 
 IIOnCSON & ROBINSON, PEIN'TERS. 
 
 1878. 
 

 Entered, iiccording to Act of Congress, in the year 1878, 
 
 By J. K. OILDEA, 
 In the office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington. 
 

 •?^ 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 The many dcspt-rate battles foui^ht by Irishmen in 
 defence of their conntr\-, endeavoring to wrest her from 
 the grasp of the invader, have been the theme of l'atri(jts 
 the world over. 
 
 But to none of her battles should Irishmen look with 
 more pride than the Siege ol Limerick, in which I he 
 Irish, under the indomitable Sarsfiekl, lepelled the army 
 of King William, attei" a terrible resistance. 
 
 The " Broken Treaty" is still sadly remembcied, and 
 Irishmen wherevej- they may I'esidc are well aware that 
 their country was never really concjuered by the Saxon, 
 nor is it to this day. 
 
 As poets, at all times and in all climes, have sung of 
 their battles and heroes, from the davs of Homer to the 
 present, and as the poets of Ireland hardiv allude to 
 some of its greatest victories, I, an humble aspirant, will 
 endeavor to exhalt some of the heroes of my race in the 
 following cantos, which I trust the reader will look over 
 with an impartial spirit. 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 New Haven, J////, 187.S. 
 
NOTE. 
 
 Lord IMacuuley says : "At the Siege of Limeriek, the w(]iueu stood ou 
 the breach, and from the walls hurled missiles of every description at the 
 invading army of King William." Their heoric conduct on tliat ever 
 memorable occasion will long be remembered with pride, and emulated 
 iu many a succeeding generation ; for their example may be followed with 
 more success in days to come, when Freedom will be the reward of feminine 
 bravery such as tlieir's inspirBd. 
 
 But of all the heroines and heroes of Limerick, none displayed the bravery, 
 courage, smd devotion of Belinda, and her invincible lover, O'Donnell, who 
 exploded the great mine of Sarsfield at Keeper Hill, by which the enemy 
 was cut to pieces so suddenly. 
 
 The .sad fate and amorous lives of O'Donnell and Belinda aie still re- 
 membered iu the love songs of Limerick's fairest daughters, who often at 
 evening fall, in pleasant groujis, wile the time away in recomiting to their 
 children their loves and sorrows. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 With pen and ink, and paper too, 
 
 Reader, this book I write for you ; 
 
 For you, who are a peasant low. 
 
 My strain of musing out I throw : 
 
 For you who love your native Isle, 
 
 And daily till your huinl)le soil. 
 
 With plough and harrow, and with spade, 
 
 Beneath each sylvan ivy shade ; 
 
 For you who are oppressed and weak, 
 
 Whose liliss the tyrant oft does break; 
 
 Whose days are ]iassed in misery, 
 
 For want of laws to set you free : 
 
 For you who likt^ nijself must roam 
 
 Heai't-broken, far away from home, 
 
 In other climes to live, fo weej) 
 
 Our nation s rights, while tyrants sleep 
 
 In happy scenes we leave behind. 
 
 And haunts familiar to our mind : 
 
 For you, dear maiden, whom my lay 
 
 Would teach in \irtuous'patlis to stray, 
 
 May it give comfort every day : 
 
 For you, poor widow, (if the Gael, 
 
 May it be a sweet, consoling tale. 
 
For one and all this book I write, 
 Whose heart the tempest did not blight ; 
 Who braved the storm long ago, 
 For Faith-sake siitfered want and woe ; 
 For Faith and Country dwelt in pain, 
 For ye I breathe my humble strain. 
 
 Not for the lordly tyrant's eye. 
 
 Who seems on golden wings to fly ; 
 
 Nor for the proud ungenerous ear, — 
 
 Such men, my poems shall never hear, 
 
 Nor for a foe of Erin's Isle, 
 
 Do I my verses thus compile ; 
 
 But for the humble peasant boy, 
 
 Whose welfare is my greatest joy. 
 
 And spotless maids on Erin's shoi'e, 
 
 These lines come jumping from my core. 
 
 And many an evening have I passed, 
 
 1111 I composed these poems at last ; 
 
 With candle on the table lit. 
 
 O'er Erin brooding did T sit ; 
 
 For of its joys, and of its woes, 
 
 • 
 
 My btisom has cuoiigli to choose — 
 
 But this short Preface now I ck»se. 
 
 And hope tliat all .who read excuse 
 
 The illiterate wandering of my muse. 
 
PRELUDE. 
 
 Of thai jiifcii isle licyoiul the iseii, 
 Whicli Brian rioni IIk^ l»:in<'s did free, 
 Loiii;-, l()ng ivj;o — where peace was found 
 On every spot of liallowed ground ; 
 'Till iron days and Saxon greed, 
 Came to iisur)) her sacred ci-eed ; 
 Sing, trenihling ninse, tin nigh of th« "Nine,' 
 We lack (he lioly stiain dixine. 
 
 "Parnassus Mount," though famed in song. 
 
 Ne'er half so sacred conies along 
 
 The misty path of ancient time, 
 
 With glory as tlie Irish clime. 
 
 Can furnish in her poet's rhyme. 
 
 Where could the hard of ancient Troy, 
 
 A fairer theme than thine employ ( 
 
 Where, Greece renowned in otliei- day. 
 
 Find bi'tter held fi.r poefs lay i 
 
 Nor Rome in all her shining miglit. 
 
 Could tind so great a song to wiite, 
 
 Than we, oh, worthy muse 1)egin ! 
 
 Assist tJioii gi-eat ( !reat(n- tlien, 
 
 The lowly elforts of my ]>en. 
 
 And keej) me 'neath thy miglity wing, 
 
 Wliile of thy faithful sons I sing. 
 
 And thou, oh, Virgin Mother, mild. 
 
 Shield and protect thy ei'i'ing child. 
 
Tliat in the task I have begun, 
 'Twill be to glorify thy Son ; 
 To show the world for whom He died, 
 The people of His choice and pride ; 
 To whom He taught the Eternal way, 
 Through Patrick, to the Judgment day. 
 
 Of where the lordly Shannon runs, 
 Of Limerick and its manly sons. 
 Sing well, and of their battle gi'ound. 
 Dwell long and earnest and jirofound. 
 The maids of Erin well define, 
 In more than one iinpassioned line ; 
 And how they fought and how they fell, 
 Forget not woi-thy muse to tell. 
 
 While thus we course the fields along, 
 Be deeds of love and war (nii- song; 
 Of faith and vii-tue, bravery, too, 
 The men and maids of Erin knew. 
 And still in every walk pursue. 
 Their heroic deeds on Limerick's wall. 
 Will draw a tear from ( >ne and all, 
 If well portrayed, oh ! gentle muse. 
 As round lier shores we sadly cruise. 
 And if, betimes, a fault we find 
 Conveying sorrow to the mind, 
 Fail not to censure — thus we write — 
 Oh, muse ! God guide our steps aright ; 
 To Him, we leave the balance then 
 Of every line we have to sing. 
 
The 
 
 'lEGE OF 
 
 .IMEP^ICK. 
 
 >&«^* 
 
 CANTO THE FIRST. 
 
 In Europe, farthest to the West, 
 In coat of emciald armor drest; 
 Washed by the wild Athiiitic waves, 
 Whose misty I'ocks it tlmndering laves, 
 There stands an Isle, it is the peer 
 Of any on this iniiiidaiie sphere ; 
 Of Saints and Sagi-s, 'twas tln^ snat. 
 Who left the prints of blesseil feet 
 On many a hill and many a dale. 
 Where now the lover breathes Ids tale: 
 Of Virgins' swe^t and holy bowers, 
 Of ruined Altars, and Kound Towers ; 
 Of Sacred Shrines, and martyred men, 
 Of fairy dells, and (ioddess' gli>n ; 
 No Goth nor Vandal cNcr seen. 
 Nor Roman Kniniit ihat " Tsli' of Green. 
 
10 
 
 II. 
 
 oil ! who can tread its hallowed shore, 
 Its sainted claj', its martyred core, 
 Nor of its long devotio]i liear, 
 Stniii^c to till" clianiis of a tear ^ 
 
 III. 
 
 Fair land, where every charm dwelt, 
 
 Home of the brave, the mighty OeJt ; 
 
 Land of mysterions destiny. 
 
 Land of llie lieautiful and free ; 
 
 Of rocky shore and h<?athei- hill. 
 
 Of love and frieudshi]) even still ; 
 
 La,nd of the Hermit and the Nnn, 
 
 Soon was thy course of splendor run : 
 
 Soon ruin and rai)ine, found its way 
 
 To sap the light of other day; 
 
 But midst thy woes a smile yet beams 
 
 O'er all thy palaces, and streams ; 
 
 A smile of ho]ie thy soul to cheer. 
 
 For many a long enduring _\'ear. 
 
 Sweet lovely Erin of the past, 
 
 The Itattle hour luis come at last : 
 
 And soon sIimII rise lliy nioniiug star, 
 
 "'I'will beam fioni " Patrick's Reak "" afar 
 
 Tiie joyous orl) ah'eady shows. 
 
 And points tiie \\;iy to Tjinierick's loes — 
 
11 
 
 To arms i'ast thy chinf tains go, 
 The invading Saxons to o'erthrovv ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 VVJio now, on thundering charger ])old, 
 That scarce his foaming steed can hold, 
 (yomes bounding on like l^night of okl '. 
 Who with such fast and headlong pace, 
 There's tt^rror dej)icted in his face, 
 That (chieftain of the Irish race ; 
 J->ut who elaie query, where or how. 
 Tile j)ersjiiration streaks his l)iow ^ 
 "Twere hard to know, and sad to tell 
 Tlie thoughts that in his hosom (hvell. 
 That eye before, so calm, so still. 
 Now show^s the storms of gathering ill : 
 As lightning bursting from the skies. 
 So seem his dark impetuous eyes. 
 See, too, those cheeks that late were pale, 
 FuU-liushed upon that mighty ihtd. ; 
 His form erect, his tlowing liair 
 Shows much of hope, less of despair ; 
 And in the workings of his mind. 
 There's Joy and grief, an<l care combined. 
 
 V. 
 
 Around, his warriors wait in fear. 
 His well-known marshal voice to hear ; 
 
12 
 
 For many a. time in other day, 
 He led them to the battle fray. 
 O'er many a crag, and many a glen, 
 The dashing Prince of Coolavin ; 
 Nor e'er was worsted by a foe, 
 The danntless, brave- McDermot Roe. 
 But now, ambitions of his state, 
 He hears King William at the gate, 
 And gathers all his chieftains bold, 
 '.riiat strong-hold of the land to lidld : 
 For he, of all his warlike host, 
 Conld a long lineage proudly boast ; 
 A line of ancestors conld view, 
 E'en from the days of Brian Born ; 
 And of his kith, and of his kin. 
 There' s some, still left in Coolavin. 
 
 VI. 
 
 "Come hither, O'Doimell of the gl(Mi," 
 Spoke thns the Prince of Coolavin, 
 "The best and bravest of my band 
 Take, and yon battlements command ; 
 Watch well the tower, and turret high- 
 Signal the foe when coming nigh ; 
 Be wary, watchful, firm and sure, 
 The walls of Limerick to secure : 
 Sentinels post at every gate. 
 And when the clock is striking eight. 
 
13 
 
 One of thy valiant band inspire, 
 
 'i'o ]ilar<;' this siii;ii upon tlie spire." 
 
 His steed tlien niouiits, and tltrou,i;li his men. 
 
 Whose lieads iHU'oxercd on the ,a,Ien, 
 
 Hailed their chiet wifli shouts of ;j,le(:', 
 
 As his courser bouuded o'er tlie le.i. 
 
 But useless the raee of MeDerniot Roe, 
 
 He micht as well have traveled slow, 
 
 For his daughter drpaitcd h>ng a.i^o. 
 
 Ah I little the ,i;-reat old ht-ro knew. 
 
 How uuK'h she lo\ed U"l>onnell ^Vboo. 
 
 VII. 
 
 The lights were lit in C'o(davin — 
 
 The halls were guarded well witliin — 
 
 The uight was dark, the houi- was late, 
 
 And watchmen were at every gate ; 
 
 But high the gate, and dark the hour, 
 
 ('ould keep Belinda in lici- l)owcr. 
 
 Tho' well they kept theii- watch and ward, 
 
 Who could a lover's stcjis retaid ; 
 
 For with tlie sentinels in sight, 
 
 Disguised in robes of Banshee white, 
 
 '8he stole away that dismal night ; 
 
 To mingle in tlie ))loody fray. 
 
 On Limerick's walls, alack-a-day ; 
 
14 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Tliu weeds are gatlieriug ou the walls, 
 Around O'Dounell's Castle Halls — 
 JS^o more the Knights of other day, 
 ]Sor lady fair, one time so gay, 
 There play tlu* Inte or the guitar — 
 'Tis lonely as tlie morning star, 
 Bright in its loneliness, sublime. 
 High tenant of its spacious clime. 
 Deserted are tlie gaixlen wtilks. 
 They're covered o'er with hemlock stalks: 
 No rose nor tulip lifts its head — 
 Their sweet companions all are dead ; 
 The spoiler's foot has killed rliem all, 
 So lovely once around each wall : 
 Like scorpion, when himself lie stings, 
 Soon dies ; so death the Saxon brings ; 
 His breath corrupted with disease. 
 Pours pestilence to every breeze. 
 Tlie trees neglected here and tliere. 
 Show well the want o( pruning care ; 
 And stalls, wlieie many a prancing steed 
 Of thoiougli ))liiod were wont to feed. 
 Deserted are — the graceful hound. 
 No more upon the park is found ; 
 For desolation marks the place 
 Of the O'Donnell's noble race. 
 Who once were leaders of the chase. 
 
15 
 
 Ldue is that Castlf uovr to see, 
 The fairest once in all Cloongee. 
 Tlic linutsniau there no more is seen 
 To bkiw his biigL:" on the green ; 
 For <'\ery lord he used to greet, 
 Went forth the S:ixon foe to meet ; 
 Their ei-eed and countrj' to protect, 
 All I well-a-day does he suspect. 
 And tliough he's old and feeble now, 
 He could a hedge bound o'er, I trow ; 
 But pleasures of tlie ex('iting chase. 
 Have long since left his wrinkled face: 
 Nor (.>f ids country does des})air. 
 His inmost thoughts ai'e <'entered tliere- 
 Aud now with eacli succeeding year, 
 lie hojies in Limerick to ai)i>ear. 
 
 IX. 
 
 'Twas sweet to tell, and hdr to trace 
 One time the lieauty of tliat ])lace; 
 T(_) hear the low ing of tin- cow. 
 Tile lamblvins s]ioiiing on thi- bi-o\v 
 Of many a green and lo\ely spot. 
 By 7nilk-mai(ls ne'er to be foi-got ; 
 To iieai- tlie liniii'l, and the lark. 
 And blackbird singing in the ])ai-]C 
 
16 
 
 Theii- notes of love on liower and brake ; 
 The tame swan Heating on the hxke 
 Majestically, while odors rise 
 Prom many a flower unto the skies : 
 The wali-liowei', and the daisy, too. 
 The pretty blue-bell, fair to view, 
 Tlu^ bl( Miming lilies' quiet repose. 
 In many a pensive bower grows ; 
 Most all that grew in Paradise, 
 There lay befcjre the gazer's eyes 
 As fresh and exquisite, mid fair, 
 As e'ei' was fanned by winds elsewhere. 
 
 ■ 
 
 X. 
 
 Through such as these, Belinda roved, 
 And by O'Donnell was beloved ; 
 But 'twas long weary yeai-s since she 
 His manly form used to see 
 Around tiH> shades of (!oolavin — 
 How lui-]i])y \\:is her bosom then. 
 But now sh(! lca\'es her fatlier's halls, 
 To search foi- liim on Limerick's walls; 
 For well, full wi'll, I'lf'liiida knows, 
 O'l)onn<>ll Aboo will face his foes, 
 Wlierrvi'r foiiud, his liiuid and he 
 Have soughl fo get their country free ; 
 And now tin; last decisive blow 
 She hop7>s to (leal the Saxon foe. 
 
XI. 
 
 Tlie night was dark, tlie way was long, 
 
 Belinda' s heart was light and strong, 
 
 Snch as are hearts that know no wrong. 
 
 The grass was wet with misty dew. 
 
 Before the Cha|)el came in view. 
 
 Whose glimmer in the distant haze, 
 
 Joy bi'onght hei' sad and lonely gaze ; 
 
 For many a time hpI'Dn" she stole. 
 
 There to fommiine wltli lier ]nire sonl. 
 
 And theie in otiier liJi])pier hours, 
 
 She cnlled the best and choicest flowers. 
 
 Its altai's to snblimely dress 
 
 In every form of lovc^liness. 
 
 With fragrant roses of (he l)est, 
 
 A gift to God, and to the j)riest. 
 
 And with snch happy thoughts alive. 
 
 She hears the Angeles l)ell strike five ; 
 
 She sees the distant altar's light. 
 
 Which was to her a h(^!i,vc7ily sight ; 
 
 For weary, worn, and tii(;d in mind, 
 
 Rest there, and comfort she coidd tind : 
 
 A refuge in that silent shade. 
 
 It proved to many an Irish maid. 
 
 And many a chief witli battle-scar, 
 
 Came to its bowers from al'ai". 
 
 Sweet consolation there to tind — 
 
 Peace for a worn, and weary mind ; 
 .3 
 
18 
 
 Such only as religion gives 
 
 To those that in earth' s turmoil lives ; 
 
 That on its rough, and stormy hills, 
 
 Feel all its torments and its ills. ; 
 
 Retiring from all worldly strife. 
 
 In quest of ease — at close of life — 
 
 Par fi'oin tlic liajypy smiles of home. 
 
 For that jture life tliat is to come 
 
 Beyond the grave — Oli ! who wdiiM then 
 
 Request to live his life again d 
 
 To travel o'ei' its dreary road. 
 
 And carry an(nv liis leaden load. 
 
 There poor Belinda found I'epose, 
 
 Just as the morning sun arose- — 
 
 Repose such as a breast in love. 
 
 May find 'mid scenes of jieai^' above. 
 
 There, well seiMired. Bidinda slept. 
 
 And of O'Bonnell surely dreamt. 
 
 Her dreams, my muse, disdains to tell. 
 
 Those who ha\(' loved must know tlieiu we 
 
 And thos(^ who have not, ne'er can guess 
 
 Tiie soothing sleep that lovely's bless. 
 
 Tliere 'neath the eyes of FatluM- Tom, 
 
 And good old Parish (!lerk, Neil Kom. 
 
 Belimla's sjiiril wandered free, 
 
 'Till the sun was far aJiove Clooiigee. 
 
la 
 
 XII. 
 
 He wius a gocxl old Paiisli Priest, 
 
 And well on sev'eiity years at: least, 
 
 And knew how to dissect a sin. 
 
 Old Father Tom ol' Coolaviu ; 
 
 With long, gray luiii-, and rosy cheek, 
 
 And body rounded, as a. peals. 
 
 That long the coming blast delies. 
 
 Of lightning shafts and tliundering sides ; 
 
 But meek and hiuuble :is a child. 
 
 And blest were all on vvjiom he smiled. 
 
 [hi got his learning far away, 
 
 E.\cej>t what some old cronies say. 
 
 Was found in village schools at home — 
 
 They wondered when he came from Rome, 
 
 He knew so much, was so relined. 
 
 And had such knowledge in his mind, 
 
 And all, of whatsoj^wer creed, 
 
 Gave to his words of wisdom hei^d ; 
 
 For through the conntry, far and jit-ar, 
 
 lie was to every [)easant dear. 
 
 Save to the bigot, whom he feared, 
 
 Thai late among liis Hock a})peari'(l ; 
 
 With fear, as of the serpent's sting. 
 
 For poison in thei)- mouths they l)ring. 
 
 None could from Father Tom, entice 
 
 A soul with all their new device — 
 
20 
 
 His flock did well tlieir speech eschew, 
 Sure as in May sings the cuckoo, 
 Vain do they preach, 'tis "passini;- strange," 
 How few their gold and bibles change. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Oh ! who can tell, save he who tried 
 
 To free the country of his pride. 
 
 How many of her children bleed, 
 
 And suffer for tlieir holy creed ; 
 
 Still burning brightly in the core, 
 
 (As fervid as it was of yore, ) 
 
 ( )!' many a maid and many a man. 
 
 Who still support Almighty's plau ^ 
 
 Who on the earth were proud as they. 
 
 His will and i)recepts to obey i 
 
 Think of the bloody cave, Dundalk, 
 
 Raise up thy murdered sons to talk 
 
 Of Cromwell's deeds! tl*eir spirits lave 
 
 Unto this day that horrid cave ! 
 
 With tire and sword, that hated foe 
 
 Laid many a thriving hamlet low. 
 
 But soon the hateful of his race, 
 
 Shall meet our chieftains face to face ; 
 
 The war-cry thickens in the skies I 
 
 And vengeance ! vengeance ! Limerick cries ! 
 
 High o'er her battlements and towers, 
 
 The cloud of war already lowers ; 
 
21 
 
 Her maids t'lom duty never swerve, 
 Possesshi;:,' sucli an Irisli nerve ! 
 Oh ! wlio can of tlieir valor tell, 
 How bravely, too, tliey fought and fell '. 
 Who can their heioic deeds portray — 
 'Twere great and mighty such a lay '. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 'Twas midniglit when Mc'Dci'niot Koc, 
 
 Whose men he left ti> watcli tlie foe, 
 
 (jn dashing charger, tieice and l)old. 
 
 Came to his guarded high stronghold. . 
 
 P^leeter the thouglits within his mind 
 
 Than his steed that gallopi'd past the wind. 
 
 But maddened to grief was his niarsJial head, 
 
 When he found his daughter was nnf in bed. 
 
 And there, with sentinels in siglit, 
 
 He poured his wrath on that dark night ; 
 
 But what he said in such a mood. 
 
 Could not be sensible or good ; 
 
 80 great was the sturm witliln his mind, 
 
 Ft!W were the woids tliat In- could lind ; 
 
 Fo)' he loved his dauglitei- from a diikl, 
 
 Nor thought she on another smiled ; 
 
 And the fond features he could tiace 
 
 Of his long lost wife, upon her face. 
 
22 
 
 But often O'Donnel] of the glen, 
 He thougbt he saw round Coohivin — 
 O'Donnell, of many a stirring- feud, 
 As rumor had it, his daughter wooed. 
 And wild was the life O'Donnel 1 led, 
 On the mountains, .since his liome lie lied ; 
 And braver ehief "twere hard to know. 
 Than he, and the great McDermot Roe, 
 But now on the walls of Limerick, he 
 Has instructions to watch the enemy, 
 'Till his chief returns to him again. 
 The dashing Prince of Coolavin ; 
 Who gathers his men that very night, 
 And in darkness hurries them to tlie tight. 
 
 XV. 
 
 As tluis the Prince of Ooolavin. 
 Marched on to Linn'iick with liis men, 
 And others coming in liis wake, 
 Were gathered from the bordering lake, 
 Along the banks of Shannon's side, 
 AVhich of all streams is Erin's pride ; 
 He hears before the dawn of day. 
 Surprised, the following lovely lay, 
 Which mingled with the water's roar, 
 As if deploring days of yore : 
 
23 
 
 1. 
 
 " She has left her Father's lovely halls, 
 To mingle in the fray, 
 Nor e'er shall see its happy walls 
 As on a former day. 
 
 Her Mothei' h)ng lies in the grave, — 
 Few friends on earth has she, 
 
 Bnt one who dwells beyond the wave, 
 Whom slie may never see. 
 
 3. 
 
 The only friend that soothes her brow, 
 From whom she's loth to part, 
 
 In all this wide, wide world now, 
 Tliat cheers her weary heart. ♦ 
 
 4. 
 Is Father Tom, of fair Cloongee, 
 
 Wlio stori'd Ikt mind full well 
 With flionglits as l)onndless as the sea, 
 
 III \ iitiKiiis ]i;ifhs ((( dwell. 
 
 5. 
 But one more dear than all beside. 
 
 She hopes again to greet, 
 Whatever may her fate betide. 
 
 Nor rare what stoi-ms meet. 
 
24 
 
 For well she knows where cannon balls 
 Are whistling wildly round, 
 
 On Limerick's well protected walls, 
 Her lover will be f on nil. 
 
 7. 
 
 Not he to flee from Saxon foi-. 
 
 When danger hovers near. 
 He's dauntless as McDermot Roe, 
 
 And as strange to grief oi- fear. 
 
 8. 
 
 And soon will mingle in the strife, 
 
 His countrj' t(j (h^fend — 
 Bnt what care any for their life. 
 
 Who have no eartli1>' fi-iend. 
 
 Tluis to the early morning gale, 
 The singer poured her i»laintiif wail 
 While stealing from his spouses' bed. 
 Tile laik's delicious notes are heard. 
 As upward on fast pinion di'iven. 
 He cleaves the dark blue v:iult of heaven ; 
 There charins his s])ouse high in the air. 
 Her young to tend with watchful care ; 
 While like a ball from furnace bright, 
 Auroia s])reads her golden light, 
 
25 
 
 Whose magnifioeiice must soon give way, 
 Before tlie sun's superior rajs 
 Wliioli now begins liis I'ace to sliow. 
 And silvei'j beains on earth to tlirow, 
 To warm iinew this woi'ld l)elow. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Tlie dashing Prince of Coolavin, 
 
 Is joined by men from every glen; 
 
 From every liill, and monntain, too, 
 
 From Ballinafad tt) Knockadoo ; 
 
 Tlie towns of Una and Anna sliow 
 
 As strong intent with liim to go ; 
 
 Rosscommon's bo3^s are all on ire, 
 
 Till on the Saxon foe they tire ; 
 
 Hy-Manie's cry, (TDudha's too, 
 
 O'Connor's that on the curlew 
 
 Wild mountains oft rose in the air, 
 
 The English ti-embled onci- to hear : 
 
 From far off (!onnaught in the west, 
 
 The great "Twelve Tribes" of blood the best, 
 
 Is heard again on every side. 
 
 As forward on ]ianting steeds they ride ! 
 
 Not jet, from out I heir minds have Howii, 
 
 The galhint deeds of famed. Tyrone : 
 
 Red Hugh O'Neil. full well they know, 
 
 The same hills crossed to meet the foe. 
 4 
 
26 
 
 Ah ! who tlie hero e'er that slew, 
 So much, save the O'Doimell A boo. 
 Of English bkiod or hated Scott >. 
 Their valor ne'er shall be forgot ! 
 They died, their native land to save. 
 One far away beyond the wave. 
 The t)ther many a mile from lioiiie. 
 Died of a broken heart in Rome I 
 And mighty Tyrrell, fii-m and trne. 
 In grief expired, his land to view, 
 In desolation, want nnd woe. 
 Despoiled and plundered by tlic foe ! 
 But soon the war-cry of the past, 
 "O'Donnell Aboo" will ring at last — 
 O'Donnell Aboo ! that magic sound. 
 Shall wake the nations all around. 
 From the grand Liffey to the Moy, 
 Thy terror De Carre w, and Mountjoy. 
 
 XVII 
 
 Soon as the morning linui' of prayer, 
 Was ushered in his voice to hear. 
 Old Father Tom ofCoolavin, 
 Saw every peasant on Hie glen 
 Assembled then\ the ynung :inil old. 
 His old thatchi'il climi-h was lit lo hold. 
 And there they ])rayed those sons of toil 
 The humble tenants of the soil, 
 
AVith earnest hearts, to Gud that He 
 
 Would keep their laud from Saxons free. 
 
 Belinda, there, among the throng, 
 
 Prayed to her Maker well and lony, 
 
 For brave O'Donnell of the glen ; 
 
 And that she might herself within, 
 
 AVell fortify, when cannon balls 
 
 Around her head, in Limerick falls ; 
 
 To whose fair city the next day, 
 
 She hoped to wend her lonely way; • 
 
 There, hapjiiness in death to find. 
 
 Or peace for Eriu of some kind. 
 
 And as she knaves the chapel wall, 
 
 The tears of sweet remend)rance fall ; 
 
 Ti) thiidv, perhaiis, that never she 
 
 t>ld Father Toin„again would see. 
 
 Nor that fair altar which sh<^ drest, 
 
 And of all places ]o\ed the best. 
 
 Its shades how could she e'er foi-get, 
 
 'Twas there O'Donnell tii'st she met ; 
 
 No fairer on the village green. 
 
 Than she, and he were ever seen. 
 
 He, the 0'Donu(-il of thts glen, 
 
 The noblest of tiie noble uk^u ; 
 
 And she more beautiful and fair, 
 
 Than e' er was kn< )wn to wander there : 
 
 And though possessed of every grace. 
 
 Determination marked her face. 
 
28 
 
 Which when directed "gainst a foe, 
 'Twere hard to battle with and linow, 
 The blood was there of McDermot Roe. 
 
 xvin. 
 
 Not Father Tom, at home to stay 
 Frhm Limerick on so great a day ; 
 Not he the battle-field eschew, 
 With his country's enemies in view : 
 Though old, and tired nigh of life, 
 He longed to mingle in the strife. 
 Religious consolation there. 
 To spread around him everywhere ; 
 For where the sick and wounded lay, 
 The good priest always found his way, 
 Nor danger feared as on he trod, 
 This noble-hearted man of God. 
 And many a spirit's waning 'eve, 
 On"earth, he did by prayers relieve ; 
 And with the sinner well would cope, 
 'Till his heart to penitence did 'ojie ; 
 Then dawned on his departing gaze 
 The coming light of brighter days ; 
 The coming light to mortals given. 
 That beam alone for them in heaven. 
 
29 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Ah I who ciin of poov Erin write, 
 
 Throughout its tong and disnuil uight ? 
 
 Its night of tortures, and of woes, 
 
 Its mighty efforts witli its foes ; 
 
 Or tell how with each burning thought, 
 
 Her faithful clergy biavely fought, 
 
 In mind, and Ixid}*, soul and brain. 
 
 The faith of Patiick to maintain ; 
 
 As pure as he on Tara's Hill, 
 
 Had taught the Druids heaven's will ; 
 
 As pure as he forever held 
 
 That holy faith, in days of eld ; 
 
 Transmitting to this day that tire, 
 
 Which charms the etforts of my lyre ; 
 
 That still shoots up, the ccmntiy tln-ougli. 
 
 From Valley low to Neapliin Dhue ; 
 
 From princely jialace liermit's cell, 
 
 And humble hamlet in tlie dell '. 
 
 (to forth ye biggots, and behold, 
 
 The foot-jirints of tliat heavenly fold ; 
 
 The marks on many a fairy glen. 
 
 Left there by Patrick's holy men ! 
 
 XX. 
 
 (hi .Armagh's grand and lowering domes. 
 On ••Arran's Isle" of saintly homes, 
 
30 
 
 The light of other days remain 
 To show such happy scenes ay;iin — 
 Again, when the niiHenium time 
 Shall blossom o'er the Irish clime ; — 
 When all her sons throughout tlie world 
 With banner of green before them furled, 
 Shall as the saint inspired, jihuined, 
 Return in triumph to their Iniid ; 
 And all her })lnnd('r be restored, 
 According to that ins])ired woid : 
 Her grand old abbeys of the past, 
 And monasteries, and shrines at last, 
 Of beauty, glory, pride and praise. 
 Shall be possessed with anxious gazt- ; 
 And all united in One Fold, 
 Shall worship as they did of old. 
 
 XXL 
 
 No longer now upon tlie green, 
 Belinda's lovely form is seen ; 
 Her olden scenes of peace forsook, 
 How oft she turns to catch one look. 
 One loving look at all behind, 
 A farewell feeling in her mind. 
 But some, to grieve her on her way. 
 Now chanted forth the following lay, 
 Which brought the tears before her gaze, 
 Reminding her of hai)pier days. 
 
31 
 
 1. 
 
 Tliere's oiK^ I daily think of now, 
 
 But she is i'ar away, 
 And ol't witli sad mid aching brow,- 
 
 I w(:'(^p tor her to-day — 
 To-(hiy, jnst ten long' years ago, 
 
 T bnde to \\i'v adien ; 
 And the te;irs then shed, none e'er shall know 
 
 My lovely Kate bnt you. 
 
 2. 
 
 The last fond elas]) I think of yet. 
 
 It was so long and meet ; 
 Nor slijill tliat imre end)ra('e forget, 
 
 It was so warm and sweet ; 
 Tiiose lips I pressed with many a sob, 
 
 Those eyes that once were bright. 
 Death closed np with its dismal robe, 
 
 And took hei" from my sight. 
 
 3. 
 
 And now I wander sad and lone — 
 
 But whnt cni-e T for life '. 
 I hii\e no one to call iiiy own. 
 
 No cliild iio)' loving wife! 
 My weary heart lies in her tomb, 
 
 Beyond the wide, wid(^ sea ; 
 And tlioiigh my soul is full of gloom, 
 
 I know she'll lliiiik of me. 
 
32 
 
 I little thought that one so good, 
 
 Could ever i'roiu me stray ; 
 Nor that my lovely Kate e'er would 
 
 Be mingling with the clay. 
 But God is just. His will l>e done 
 
 " On earth as 'tis above ;" 
 He may restore unto me soon, 
 
 My own, my only love. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 This song to poor Belinda's heart, 
 
 A lonely feeling did impart ; 
 
 For oft O'Doimell by her side, 
 
 Arm in arm were espied, 
 
 Fi-ee from the world's sad turmoil, 
 
 Seen roaming o'er the '* Plains of Bojde," 
 
 As fair a spot as e'er was given 
 
 To nK)rtals on this side of heaven ; 
 
 For nature, lavish of her charms, 
 
 Had left them all upon these farms ; 
 
 Moi-e lovely, fertile and sublime, 
 
 Thau e'er was seen on earthly clime ; 
 
 And with a long and sadening swell. 
 
 She l)ade to nil tlicii- sweet farewell. 
 
 Wiiile Father Tom. of honest heart, 
 
 Packed up his 1 ks and vestments smart ; 
 
33 
 
 To quit awhile his native place, 
 
 The tears of sorrow on his face ; 
 
 For well he loved liis liumble flock, 
 
 And hard to them the sudden shock 
 
 Of his departnre, but behind 
 
 Were left none, save the weaker kind, 
 
 And little ones of tender mind. 
 
 Thus grief was ' suaged, a better boim, 
 
 Before him lay in Limerick soon. 
 
 Though marked with hav(5c, war and ruin. 
 
 END OF FIRST CANTO. 
 
 CANTO THE SECOND. 
 
 The moon begins her silent reign, 
 In state-like grandeur o' er the plain ; 
 The sun departing from each rill. 
 Fast disappears behind the hill, 
 Until next day, his walk agnin, 
 In equal state he does begin. 
 The dew in volumes on the ground. 
 Gave odor to the flowei-s around. 
 Where now and then the humnuug bee, 
 With bag of honey, you might see 
 
34 
 
 Returning homeward to her cell. 
 The hundreth time from many a dell ; 
 Whose lonely hum in passing bj-, 
 Seems to lisp forth industry ; 
 And early i-anihles from her hive, 
 Reminds us how we ought to strive ; 
 For e'er the sun breaks in the East, 
 Which never sees lier in her nest, 
 She's up, and sucks from every rcjse 
 The dew-drop, while the drones repose : 
 So man, if idle like the drone. 
 In hunger oft is doomed to moan. 
 
 II. 
 
 The lambs were 'bleating on the hills, 
 And murmuring were the falling rills ; 
 No birds were seen upon the wing — 
 All nature spoke in whispering : 
 The lowing cow. in hiiriT luinir 
 For maid to milk, w:is .seen to come ; 
 And by her side the calf new-lxini. 
 In daring pastime jtrest her liorn : 
 The weary ])loughman. last of ail 
 The farmer's servants, to the stall 
 Led forth his horses, weary fix) 
 With task which they were wmit to do 
 From morning, shouting to each horse, 
 His voice at evpiitimc was hoarse, 
 
35 
 
 But pleasures of the coming night 
 Drove cares away, and gave delight. 
 So tl)rongli the fields, to manhood grown, 
 The peasants wandered all alone, 
 Their liours of daily toil being o'er. 
 To glad, and fructify the core 
 With sentiments of virtue, fair 
 In love's simplicity most rare ; 
 Wiiich no one like the peasant feels, 
 Tiiough poverty around him steals. 
 Thus by the lovely Shannon's side. 
 Are seeu the flower of Erin's jn-ide, 
 The bravest men and fairest maids. 
 Still wander o'er those peaceful glades. 
 Fair scenes in memory comi^ to view. 
 Where I myself have wandered too ; 
 And oft in youth my fancy drew 
 A picture of some lovely cot, 
 In some delightful, happy spot, 
 Where I in peace, at length might close 
 My eyes to earth' s unending woes ; 
 For, God knows, I have had my share 
 Of sori'ows in this world of care ! 
 
 III. 
 
 W^hat change takes place e'en with a day, 
 What ruin, havoc, and dismay. 
 
36 
 
 May cross the faulty mind of man, 
 
 Since bright, and clear the day began ? 
 
 No one can tell — so strange is life, 
 
 We know not when we swell the strife, 
 
 The strife wherein all mortals roll, 
 
 Some caring little for their soul. 
 
 That setting sun that stole away, 
 
 Ne'er closed before a darker day^ 
 
 To one so sadly on that roved, 
 
 Almost regretting that she loved ; 
 
 And feeling that she never more, 
 
 The same green lields would wander o'er. 
 
 With her O'Donnell as of yore; 
 
 For to behold each lovely spot, 
 
 So sacred, where they often sat ; 
 
 To see the self-same ivy trees. 
 
 Where once they hailed the cooling breeze ; 
 
 To hear the sound of purling rills. 
 
 Come tumbling down the primrose hills, 
 
 Was grief to her, and sori'ow then, 
 
 Without O'Donnell of the glen. 
 
 Such is the soul, whose constant gaze 
 
 Is ever fixed on former days. 
 
 IV. 
 
 With thoughts like these within her breast, 
 Belinda sat her down to rest, 
 
37 
 
 And as al•ol^ud she cast her eyes, 
 
 A form approaching she espies ; 
 
 Who hioked as one, good peo^jle say 
 
 That in the forts of Ireland stay, 
 
 Or in tlie sea, or eartli, or air — 
 
 Tiiey're said to ramble everywhere. 
 
 And well she deemed, he conld not be 
 
 A resident of earth, for he 
 
 Appeared of that celestial sort 
 
 That roam through heaven's illumed court. 
 
 His hair was nigh as long and white 
 
 As Banshee's robes appear at night, 
 
 And sageful countenance as grave 
 
 As e'er a brush to picture gave. 
 
 Thus to Belinda he addressed 
 
 Himself, as if some heavenly guest ; 
 
 While she with weak and trembling limb 
 
 Heard, but was 'traid to look on him. 
 
 "Sweet maid, thy virtue evermore 
 
 Pure, undefiled, within thy core, 
 
 Keep till thy days on earth are past, 
 
 'Twill be thy truest friend at last ; 
 
 'Twill fill thy weary heart with peace. 
 
 And give thy soul eternal grace ; 
 
 'Twill light thee from this vale below. 
 
 To where there is no grief or woe. 
 
38 
 
 V. 
 
 Thou hast a soul, lair niaideu, but 
 
 Whene'er a sin inside is put, 
 
 Thy soul becomes that instant lilind, 
 
 And blown as straw is with the wind : 
 
 Thou hast a soul, it can be blest 
 
 As in an hermit's humble breast, 
 
 If virtue guides it as the thread 
 
 The spider twists about his head: 
 
 Thou hast a soul, and what is it 
 
 Which keeps thy frame entirely lit '. 
 
 Thou hast a soul, wliat can it be ^ 
 
 'Tis surely some great mystery. 
 
 Its parts are virtue, love and truth, 
 
 And faith, and charity, forsooth ; 
 
 If these are lost there is no soul, 
 
 But all sinks down to Satan's goal. 
 
 A lady's spirit is of love. 
 
 Her hope a brighter oown above ; 
 
 Her glory is, if she l)e pure, 
 
 A heaven, eternal, to secure : 
 
 Now virtue brings her bosom peace. 
 
 And faith, and charity, brings grace : 
 
 Truth is the harbinger of all 
 
 The graces that to mortals fall. 
 
 They ne'er can call an hour their own, 
 
 Of joy, where seeds of vice are sown ; 
 
39 
 
 Reinenibrance gives tht-ir breasts no peace, 
 But points tlieni to amassed disgrace, 
 Will) ne'er seek maxim, good, to be 
 TJieir giiid<' unto etrrnity. 
 Tlieii- souls are blind to every grace 
 That those of contemplation trace; 
 No earthly beauty gives thi'in joy — 
 Their i)eace they do themselves destroy, 
 Hei'e and hereaftei-, evermore. 
 As cursed as Tamerlane of \'ore. 
 Who butchered half the human race. 
 And empires did at will deface. 
 In search of bliss he covdd not feel. 
 Possessing such an heart of steel. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Ha]ipy indited tlu^ maid who roves 
 111 innocence, and truly loves, 
 And purely keeps herself alway. 
 Until arrives lier linal day ; 
 On earth her passage will be swi^et, 
 Tli<> heavenly host above to meet. 
 Then bear in mind bei'oi'e 1 go 
 I'^roin this enchanting vale below. 
 That (lisap]>oinriiients are re]iaid 
 Wlien^ virtue lights its native shade ; 
 Hi'i-eafter those that love sinci^re, 
 Have thousand joys for every tear ; 
 
40 
 
 Who bear their k)ad, nor ever lack, 
 But follow virtue' s glorious track : 
 Remember this, and of the few 
 That hath remained to Jesus true, 
 It shall be shown the path you trod 
 So worthily to Almighty God." 
 
 VII. 
 Such words Belinda' s fears subside, 
 Who thus unto the man replied : 
 "Thy words are of a heavenly strain, 
 And fill with hope my erring brain ; 
 For thou dost of that kingdom tell 
 Where virtuous maidens are to dwell, 
 Forever happy, free from woe. 
 Which they had merited below. 
 What days I have already past 
 On earth, with sorrow were o'ercast ; 
 For when a cheering prospect lay 
 Before me, it was snatched away 
 That very instant, as I thought 
 I had it to my bosom caught, 
 To hold fast in my heart forever. 
 But it soon tied, and came back, never. 
 The man I love, from honor' s road 
 He never strayed, nor from his God ; 
 From wisdom's path he never roved, 
 But knowledge of himself he loved. 
 
 -^ 
 
41 
 
 Eacli lovely shade that I behold, 
 Reminds me where we sat of old, 
 Surrounded by the choicest flowers 
 That e'er was seen on etirthly bowc^-s ; 
 The wall-iiowei', and the daisy, too, 
 The pretty blue-bell, fair to view ; 
 The daffodil, and smiling rose. 
 And blooming lilies' quiet repose : 
 Such sweets of innocence portray, 
 As make the senses melt away 
 In thoughts of purity, sublime 
 As angels in their heavenly clime ; 
 In thoughts which lead the memory 
 Beyond all pain and agony. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Oh ! it is sweet indeed to rest. 
 Where doted once the burning breast ; 
 Whether oppressed with grief or woe. 
 The bliss one time that used to throw 
 Its darting shafts of joy around 
 In harmony, as thoughts rebound 
 To rise again at our desire, 
 Love's gi-eat illimitable fire. 
 In melancholy mood sometimes, 
 The heart laments in lonely rhymes. 
 But every thought of former bliss. 
 Imprints upon the soul a kiss; 
 
42 
 
 Uiilil its sparks are kimlled, then 
 Tilt' vein of joj' flows on within, 
 Reanimating, cheering all 
 Tiic body, though the tears may iall ; 
 For tlK^i'e are times that tears will spring 
 (As hinls, lamenting, frequent sing.) 
 Fiom out our lunirts, upon the face, 
 AVIiicli one might tiiink had parted peace 
 And ill this mood, though sad we s<^em. 
 Each i)ulse within with pleasures teem : 
 And in this spell, however brief. 
 The soul itself obtains relief. 
 But now my way^ I must pursue, 
 So heavenly friend, adieu I adieu !" 
 Then fiom the old man's pleasing eyes, 
 Fast o'er the tield Belinda hies ; 
 And whether of air. of earth, or skies. 
 He wondered much as there he stood. 
 She was so lovely, ])ure and good : 
 Yet knew that of such stulf, were made 
 'ihc Irish maids of every grade. 
 And so the old man passed away. 
 Whether ghost or sprite, let others sa}% 
 Who m:iy have set'ii him come and go, — 
 It is not juy design to kiu)w. 
 
43 
 
 IX. 
 
 In dark outlines, Low lour to view 
 At night the top of the Cnrlew, 
 Whose snniniit, soaring to tlie sky, 
 The power of wintry blasts defy. 
 To gain their breath, how many stop 
 O'erpowei'ed along the Windy Gap '. 
 There stretching 'neath its hoary head, 
 To many a jnlvate converse wed, 
 In the deep nionntain solitude, 
 Old Mary Giblin's cottage stt)od ; 
 Where she did tifty sumiiK-rs dwell, 
 And she had known Belinda well ; 
 For e'en thougli feeble, old and thin. 
 She sometimes walked to ('oolavin. 
 Within her cabin for the niglil, 
 Belinda found repose and ([uict. 
 While to a bhiziug bog-dale hre, 
 Old men and women did retire ; 
 And stories told of Lei)rehauns, 
 Who gamliol on the heather lawns ; 
 And ghosts and fairies, that ])ursue 
 Their nightly walks on the Curlew, 
 Till on tile embers seem to blaze, 
 All shapes to their excited gaze ; 
 Still more intensified, as they 
 Behold the Banshee pass away. 
 
44 
 
 As a specimen to wliat they hold. 
 Here's one that Peter Giblin told : 
 
 X. 
 
 " One day," said he, " as evening fog, 
 
 Descended on the meads wet surf, 
 As I was coming from the bog, 
 
 Witli mare and straddle, load of tiirf ; 
 I looked and saw a man in gray, 
 
 Stej) from behind the borheen hedge. 
 The mare began to stamp and neigh. 
 
 And prance about in awful rage. 
 He grasped the reins, she panted still ; 
 
 For sure no mortal man was he, 
 And led her hither at his will. 
 
 Into the adjoining fields with me. 
 My eyes got blind, my body shook, 
 
 I trembled like a twining reed. 
 Nor had I e'en the power to look, — 
 
 He bore me off with awful speed ; 
 And in me dwelt a horde of fears, 
 
 I knew not how or whence they came, 
 A million voices caught mine ears. 
 
 Where'er I turned 'twas all the same. 
 The bag-pipes sounded every side. 
 
 And music beat uji to the dance. 
 Which filled the air with pleasures wide. 
 
 As up and down they did advance ; 
 
45 
 
 And, nimble as the wind, would wheel 
 
 In breathless hurry 'round me still, 
 Keeping good time to every reel, 
 
 As water-fall trhat turns a mill. 
 A moment more the man in grey 
 
 Appeared along my side again. 
 And shouted, 'further on this way. 
 
 Come ! Come ! no longer there remain.' 
 So saying he touched my eyes, and lo ! 
 
 The mountains were on tire above. 
 The blaze, ascending, high did go. 
 
 Among the darkening clouds to rove. 
 He led me through a deafening den. 
 
 Of millions of the fairy kind. 
 Into the forts and caves within ; 
 
 Nor dare I cast a look behind. 
 But wliat I saw none can describe. 
 
 Next day I found myself in bed ; 
 Yet still, methinks, I hear that tril)e 
 
 Of voices ringing in my head." 
 
 XI. 
 
 Sucli ill the rural scenes you'll tind 
 To l)e the state of the peasant's mind. 
 Whose sweet simplicity of lieart 
 Would a charm to everything impart. 
 Like the mountain rose, they bloom alone, 
 A treasure to the world unknown : 
 
46 
 
 Tliis world, so ;ipt to look iii)oii 
 
 The low in fortune, and in birth, 
 As if all i)urity were gone 
 
 Prom such dependents of the earth. 
 We little think that in the shade 
 
 Of i)overty some gems reside 
 In thread-bare garb, as heavenly made 
 
 As they ensconced in silken pride ; 
 Whose virtuous charms far outshine 
 
 The brightest diadems of nature, 
 So full of 2)eace and bliss divine, 
 
 As Adam first from his Creator. 
 Let men obsei've the rise and fall, 
 
 And progress of the world abroad, 
 And see its glory after all, 
 
 Internally by discord gnawed : 
 Then let them seek the scenes of peace, 
 
 ^Vhere love, where chastity abound. 
 And then their lordly eyes may trace 
 
 Sweet smiles of joy on all around. 
 And let them see the summer's eve 
 
 Ontlingered by the village lioys ; 
 And seeing, oh! let them believe 
 
 That fi-eedom is the cottar's joys. 
 That round his farm is his heart, 
 
 The pride of every honest Gael, 
 And when from it he' s forced to part, 
 
 lie loses all his earthly weal : 
 
47 
 
 For (in tlieir farms, blisse.s meet 
 
 Aromicl eacli pnasant's luuiible door, 
 Tliat sliall be ever piir(:f and sweet, 
 
 To them, and flieir's forever more. 
 "Mid fragrance from the hawthorn bmsh, 
 
 'Mid lioney from the tiowery .tirass, 
 Tiiey lind their heart's nndying wish 
 
 In everythino- lonnd wliicli tlicy ]iass ; 
 Oil ! who woukl then begiMidu'e tlu' poor, 
 
 'i'lic liiimble oottiiger wlio toils, 
 Ben(>atli a h)i'dliiig to secure, 
 
 Sucli comfort on liis worn soils ^ 
 But if they lie so cruel, unjust, 
 
 "rwpi'c better he wei-e nevci- boin, 
 Than dwell in hate upon the dust, 
 
 Curst, and remembered but with scorn. 
 
 XII. 
 
 From the immeasurable horizon. 
 Bright shone the w(mdrous, warm sun. 
 Whose rays came down on every crag, 
 And shady grove where lay tln^ stng 
 tSecui'elj' ; wliih^ the curlew 
 In joyful acclamations tlcw, 
 .btined ))y each bird of lovely wing, 
 Thnt hails its be:inis each note they sing : 
 While drones u])on tlu^ pastini' crawl. 
 That hiuii' had hiiu ;don,u- the wall. 
 
48 
 
 More dead than living, till its heat 
 Gave power to 'their tiny feet. 
 With May all nature seems to thrive, 
 And every object seems alive ; 
 For every leaf begins to spread, 
 Flowers blue, and white, and red. 
 O'er many a bower, and many a dale. 
 Each speaks its own mysterious tale. 
 The morning lovliest is in May, 
 When everything looks fresh and gay, 
 Good nature opening out her breast. 
 Makes earth appear sublimely drest ; 
 As incense burned in Paradise, 
 Sweet odors from the flowers arise. 
 Perfuming, mingling to and fro, 
 With all the gentle winds that blow. 
 And who can pace the fields along. 
 Unconscious of the warbler's song. 
 That greets his ears at every step. 
 From l>irds that on the brambles leap. 
 Inviting playmates forth to rove ; 
 Into the silent, sylvan gi'ove. 
 Where slylj^ raml)ling they are seen, 
 Displaying love through many a green ? 
 
 XIII. 
 Much like the love that fills the soul 
 Of man, he too delights to stroll, 
 
49 
 
 Betimes with her he loves the best, 
 O'er vales in artless beauty drest ; 
 There to infuse the soothing balm, 
 The tranquil valleys yields him calm ; 
 There in love's arms to retire, 
 And feel affection's thrilling fire ! 
 For if high heaven, a solace give 
 To any, 'tis to those tliat live. 
 And sentiments most fondly feel 
 Of love, in truth' s revolving zeal ; 
 Sincere through every tuni below. 
 Alike in Joy, alike in woe. 
 Keep this celestial semblance, 
 Pure in the core' s remembrance : 
 Without this diamond of the lieart, 
 Existence can no bliss impart ; 
 Without its rays around us stroll. 
 Dead are the cravings of the soul ; 
 Without we feel its genial touch, 
 Pervade our bosom, ' tis too much 
 To hope for i^eace, wliile here below. 
 Without it, life were life of woe. 
 And those that feel it not sincere. 
 Can ne'er lisp forth a fervid prayer ; 
 For love is prayer, and prayer is l(_)\'e. 
 Both have their origin from nl )ove. 
 Whatever breast of these be void. 
 
 Better in infancy he died. 
 
 1 
 
50 
 
 Those ills tliat haunt the dail^^ life, 
 
 Of men who mix in worldly strife, 
 
 Accumulate if destitute, 
 
 Of love to chase them in the root ; 
 
 And bring the man perchance in bloom. 
 
 An unpremeditated doom ; 
 
 Who else might often fondly kiss 
 
 Tlie sweets of nature, had he this. 
 
 XIV. 
 Not me to roam the fairy fields, 
 A stranger to what nature yields, 
 Not me to pace the valleys o'er, 
 Witli virtue dormant in my core. 
 Oh ! let me rove the fields along. 
 Firm, resolute, and strong, 
 In love's bright ideas evermore, 
 Until my days on earth are o'er ; 
 The lady whom my soul admii'es, 
 Each moment kindling new fires, 
 Hard to extinguish, sweet to feel. 
 To which each pulse-beat doth appeal ; 
 While May, invites my spirit o' er 
 The scenes my Fathers trod before. 
 Feeling as I do, that strain. 
 Alone that cheers the human brain. 
 Let me prefer to wander 'round 
 Each haunt, where innocence is found ; 
 
51 
 
 Far from that pale, voliiptTious band, 
 
 That stick to friendship with one hand, 
 
 And at the sliglitest insiilt throw 
 
 Its bolts amongst the friendly f(je ; 
 
 Knowing naught of virtue's law, 
 
 But changeful as their vain eclat. 
 
 And like the lovely morning star, 
 
 First caught by Nephin' s peak afar. 
 
 Let me be bilght, it matters not 
 
 What doeth the buxom, swindling sot, 
 
 Who sees not nature's charms rake 
 
 With ruling iio\ver on every Iirake, 
 
 Whom, though he's dressed in silken smock. 
 
 His heart turns like the weather-cock. 
 
 XV. 
 
 As on her way Belinda roved. 
 The lily of the valley moved 
 Its tall green leaf, and snow white drop. 
 While l)ees disdain to suck the top. 
 From pure respect they entertain 
 Foi' this the best gem of the plain ; 
 Only at evening time they hum 
 Themselves iipon it until dumb. 
 She kissed its little leaf sublime, 
 In memory of a former time : 
 O'Donnell wore it on his coat, 
 And with it love characters wrote 
 
52 
 
 Upon lier heart, as tixed and true 
 As love's all-piercing dart could do ; 
 And thus in pensive musing, she 
 Poiired forth the following soliloquy : 
 "Pure, sweet, and lovely fragrant rose, 
 Calm as thou art could breast rejiose, 
 Free as thou art from galling ill, 
 Drooijing o'er thy murmuring rill ; 
 The sweetness of thy happy heart, 
 Coiddst thou unto my soul impart. 
 How blessed were my bosom then 
 To light this world of grief and sin ; 
 Could I but grow in purity. 
 As thou dost in thy own valley. 
 Who can each lovely rose behold, 
 With conscience dark, or dead, or cold ; 
 Who can perceive their varioiis hue, 
 Pink and yellow, red and l)lue. 
 And* still be deaf to innocence, 
 A language which they yield us, hence 
 Return, oh sinful man ! and be 
 As pure as flowers, internally. 
 Remembrance do they give, of where 
 The cherubims of God repair, 
 Around His throne in songs of praise ; 
 Such song the silent flower plays, 
 But no one hears it, only those 
 That speak the language of the rose, 
 
53 
 
 And feel its music purely roll 
 lu thoughts of peace within the soul. 
 Oh ! for some peaceful bower, where I 
 Could lay me down and quietly die ! 
 I'm tired of all this worldly strife, 
 And willingly would part with life ; 
 But to my country must be given, 
 My last throb till it beats in heaven. 
 Ah ! well I wish once more to rove, 
 The happy scenes of eai'Iy love, 
 If 1 could but O'Donnell see 
 Once more again along with me." 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Thus mused Belinda, 'till the shore 
 
 Of long Lough Derg, appeared before 
 
 Her anxious eyes, for weaiy she 
 
 Came trii:)ping o'er the flowery lea. 
 
 There pensive sat her down to rest. 
 
 As the sun was sinking in the West, 
 
 And looking over Lough Derg wave. 
 
 Where the featliered tribe their bosoms lave, 
 
 And watcli their young in many a creek. 
 
 The village boys are wont to seek 
 
 With foul intent ; she hears among 
 
 The tins, and ferns the following sung. 
 
 Sweet and mehxlious, as if grief 
 
 Could give the singer's heart relief. 
 
54 
 
 That breathed to the evening gale, 
 This sad pathetic pastoral wail. 
 
 ADARE HALL. 
 
 "How tail' are the tiowers, and lovely the trees, 
 The eye of the stranger in gazing there sees ; 
 How ripe are tlie apjiles, and pear^ as tliey fall. 
 In those beautifnl gardens around every wall. 
 How sweet are the cherries, and goosebenies too, 
 The plum and the orange, and blueberry blue. 
 That bloom in thy quiet shades so innocent all. 
 Exalting thy grandeur ( )li, sweet Adare Hall ! 
 
 How wide are the fields and the plantations green, 
 Where the rabbit, the hare, and the wild deer is seen, 
 The cow, and the hoi'se, and tlie harmless sheep, 
 And the lambs on the hillocks reclining in sleep : 
 There the partridge, the plover, tlie snipe and the duck. 
 Come to rest when the mountain at eve is forsook, 
 With the pheasant, and grouse, where they frequently 
 
 call 
 The hours of night, 'round thy meads Adare Hall. 
 
 At night when dame nature in silence dotli reign. 
 O'er all living objects, except the deep main, 
 And hushes the senses of each living thing, 
 Betimes overjoyed on tliese bowers they sing ; 
 
55 
 
 Tlie lapwing, his short notes resounding along, 
 And the shrill cni'lew in her eagerness strong ; 
 The blackbird, and thrush in their love songs and all 
 That seek for their young ones around Adare Hall. 
 
 If 'mid these, tho\igh I ask not, nor let it lie so, 
 Thy tears in remembrance haply shoTild flow, 
 In joyous or sorrowful mood, never be 
 Too sad, or too merry to think not of me ; 
 And I shall rememlier when far, far away. 
 The green hills of Adare, wheresoever I stray ; 
 Then if in the battle, oh, Desmond you fall ! 
 One true heart will long weep in fair Adare Hall." 
 
 XVII. 
 
 The sun was sinking from the view. 
 Lost were the notes of the curfmv ; 
 Belinda, gazing on the tide, 
 A boat approaching she espied, 
 Whose prow straight up unto her steers. 
 Manned by two stalworth mountaineers ; 
 Who plied the oars with steady hand. 
 Intent to anchor on the strand : 
 For well the corners of the lake. 
 Thej' held before in many a freak. 
 And every outlet and inlet knew, 
 When guided by O'Donnell Al)oo. 
 
56 
 
 Brawny, and stout their arms appear, 
 
 As they unto Belinda steer ; 
 
 And full their hearts, of lionest joys, 
 
 Those wild impatient mountain boys ; 
 
 Nor e'er a Saxon came in view, 
 
 But they and their valiant comrades slew. 
 
 And though with hearts and souls so wild. 
 
 They came before her like a child ; 
 
 Where virtue dwelt in an Irish maid. 
 
 They were respectful, and afraid 
 
 That word or look would them degrade. 
 
 For such ai'e the men of the Irish race. 
 
 They never can a flower deface. 
 
 Which blooms on hill, or valley low. 
 
 Nor a virtuous maid could overtlirow. 
 
 And ere they anchor on the strand. 
 
 Their little craft so bravely manned, 
 
 With hearts and bosoms light and gay. 
 
 One of them sings the following lay : 
 
 FLOW GENTLE MOY. " 
 
 Where flows the gentle murmuring Moy, 
 Through fairy vales and dells. 
 
 In a lone cottage by its waves, 
 My lovely Mary dwells ; 
 
 Bright are hei" eyes, her ruddy cheeks. 
 And ruby lips are sweet ; 
 
57 
 
 You'd travel all green Erin round, 
 Nor one so fair meet. 
 
 How oft beside the silvery Moy, 
 
 We strayed in days of yore, 
 How oft beside its tranquil banks, 
 
 Our heart-felt love did pour ; 
 No tongue can tell, nor pen can write, 
 
 How dear she was to me. 
 Our hearts were light, as birds at night, 
 
 Upon the hawthorn tree. 
 
 And arm in arm along the Moy, 
 
 How often did we rove, 
 By silent grove, and shady wood. 
 
 She told to me her love ; 
 For Mary's bosom, like the waves 
 
 That gently swell the Moy, 
 Heaved ever, and anon for me, 
 
 She called her mountain boy. 
 
 But now along the murmuring Moy, 
 
 In grief I sadly stray ; 
 For Mary, lovely Mary, there 
 
 Is sleeping in the clay ! 
 And there my heart forever lies. 
 
 Along the river Moy — 
 That voice so sweet, shall ne'er again. 
 
 Call me her mountain boy ! 
 
58 
 
 Flow gentle Moy, ;ind nimiuui- by 
 
 Her sad, and lonely tomb, 
 And Inll to rest this weary heart, 
 
 That now is full of gloom ; 
 Until upon that happy shoi'e. 
 
 Where all is peace, and joy, 
 I hear once more, my Mary's voice 
 
 Call on her mountain boy ! 
 
 XVIII. 
 "Come anchor," cried Belinda, "here. 
 Brave warm-hearted mountaineer. 
 Thy breast denotes a fervid love. 
 For Maiy, whose spirit is above — 
 Above where all is joy, and peace. 
 And without stint eternal grace. 
 Tell me by what design or wish. 
 Thou hast descried this ivj- bush. 
 Wherein I hoped to spend the eve. 
 And o'er my country's fate to grieve : 
 And thy companion, in his look, 
 The signs of sorrow seem to brook. 
 Though well designed by nature's mould. 
 His place 'mong warriors iierce to liold. 
 What was it on this placid 'lake. 
 Could such a lovely strain awake ? 
 Or was it thoughts of other day. 
 Called forth so beautiful a lay ? 
 
59 
 
 I could in sympathy a tear 
 
 Shed for thy feelings, mountaineer." 
 
 ' ' From where OJ Donnell takes his stand, 
 
 I came, fair lady, to this strand, 
 
 With this, from that great chief, to thee, 
 
 He willed none but thyself to see ; 
 
 It is the sign by which I know 
 
 The daughter of McDermot Roe. 
 
 To none, — but j^ardon nor misti'ust 
 
 To no one else — I was the first — 
 
 Though of his men, there's far more brave 
 
 Than I to cross o'er Lough Derg wave. 
 
 Then haste, fair maid, with me to-night — 
 
 Our enemies may be in sight 
 
 Before across the lake we steer, 
 
 And have no sorrow, grief or fear ; 
 
 For shelter we are sure to find 
 
 Beyond the waters good and kind. 
 
 A cottage there is hid from view, 
 
 Where Kate O" Donnell waits for yciu ; 
 
 And strong the foe will be that dare 
 
 Disturb thy gentle form there. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 At Kate O'Donnell's worthy name 
 To Belinda' s cheeks the blushes came ; 
 For she did well remember Kate, 
 Though she'd not sei-n her form of late : 
 
60 
 
 But long ago, in happier hours, 
 
 They walked the self-same ivy bowers ; 
 
 Nor fairer, in the village wide. 
 
 Than she and Kate could be espied. 
 
 Tlirough Kate Belinda first beheld 
 
 O'Donnell, who since her bosom swelled 
 
 With thouglits of love and purity. 
 
 In all her joy and nusery ! 
 
 And now the hope to hear once more 
 
 That sweet familiar voice, and pour 
 
 Their hearts together, and commune 
 
 On lovers absent ; what a boon 
 
 To faithful souls, as fimi and true 
 
 As are the hills of Knockadoo. 
 
 Who in tliis world of care, and woe, 
 
 But sometimes feel its ills below ; 
 
 Wlio journeying on the stage of life, 
 
 But sees its storms around them rife, 
 
 Wliicli must with mortals here remain 
 
 Till ends in death the ending pain. 
 
 Yet sweet the memory of the past. 
 
 Whose mantle o'er the mind is cast 
 
 With happy shades of pleasures o'er. 
 
 Rejoicing well the inward core ; 
 
 For thoughts, the sweetest, linger still. 
 
 In columns, marching on the will, 
 
 Eternally, mysterious source. 
 
 From which they take their onward course. 
 
61 
 
 Such feelings had Belinda then, 
 In contemplating Coolavin, 
 She could not for lier life foi'sake 
 That evening oii the lonely lake. 
 
 XX. 
 
 Night spread its sable robe o'er all 
 The hills around, — in death-like pall 
 Appeared the lake, — all had forsook. 
 Their usual haunts, save the wild duck. 
 That at intervals o'er the wave, 
 Flew to its dismal marshy cave ; 
 Whose croak so solitary swooned. 
 Each now and then, and hoarsely tuned. 
 Was heard above Belinda's head, 
 As though the waves her shallop sped, 
 Till Katie's cottage came in view, 
 Hid by the rocks of Lissadoo. 
 Well did the rocks in those dark days, 
 Hide Katie's cottage from the gaze 
 Of evil eyes, and evil tongue. 
 And prying intidels who sprung. 
 Like Goth, and Vandal, long ago 
 The power of Roman to overthrow ; 
 But far more wretched could be seen, 
 Such savage hordes of men I ween. 
 On many a bower, and sacred pile, 
 Throughout green Erin" s lovely Isle ; 
 
02 
 
 Nor i)rinciple, nor motive just, 
 Had tliey, but enmity, and hist, 
 Conspicuous marked their every act, 
 Deceit, and treachery ; in fact, 
 They were with every vice intact. 
 From such the virtuous liad to flee,- 
 To many a liill for safety ; 
 To many a shade, and silent glen, 
 And ipaet recess, or cave within. 
 The mountain's tranquil solitude, 
 However lonely, dark, and rude : 
 Yet well protected in such sphere, 
 They were by many a mountaineer ; 
 Whose coiirage ne' er was known to lack, 
 Though 'twere the torments of the rack; 
 Who ne'er from foe was known to flee, 
 While a pulse-beat flred their souls to be. 
 As the mountain air around them free. 
 And such protectors tliere of late. 
 Had been the guards of lovely Kate, 
 Who then, pure as a fragrant rose. 
 Within her cottage did repose. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Kate was O'Donnell's sister, who 
 Had parted her beside the lake. 
 
 And placed her in strong hands as true, 
 As e'er a battle-axe did take. — 
 
63 
 
 But now a message with his friends, 
 
 To lier, and to Belinda sends, 
 
 That they shoiild on to Limerick go. 
 
 And with him'nieet the Saxon foe. 
 
 Unlike Belinda, Kate could pierce. 
 
 Her foes more swift, she was so fierce, 
 
 By nature brave, and nobly formed, 
 
 She to the coming battle warmed ; 
 
 Full well she knew her holy creed, 
 
 In deep humility did bleed. 
 
 Bleed inwardly, sad, sore, alone. 
 
 Lamenting days of fi'eedom gone. 
 
 Days when her countrywomen prayed. 
 
 In public, nor a Saxon feared, 
 
 While pouring out their hearts to God, 
 
 In convents on their native sod. 
 
 But now upon her Island green, 
 
 To worship Him, few could be seen, 
 
 Save in some deep, and craggy pass. 
 
 Where a priest would sometimes offer mass. 
 
 To him the faithful oft would stroll. 
 
 In search of coiufort for their soul ; 
 
 And none moie prompt, was seen of late. 
 
 To lead that flock than gentle Kate, 
 
 Whose race dispersed by cruel laws. 
 
 Caused her to plead with God their cniise. 
 
 That by submission and holy merit. 
 
 Their lands again they would inherit. 
 
64 
 
 XXII. 
 
 Kate's lonely cot Belinda gained, 
 
 And with her there the night remained, 
 
 While the two sturdy boatmen, kept 
 
 A faithful guard, nor even slept ; 
 
 Two noble maids had they to shield, 
 
 For danger lurked in every field ; 
 
 So fearful was the land of late, 
 
 That foes were seen at every gate ; 
 
 But great the foe could overthrow, 
 
 The daughter of McDermot Roe, 
 
 And the O'Donnell of the glen. 
 
 While thus protected by such men. 
 
 There our two heroines, ere they sleep, 
 
 Talk long of lovers gone, and weep 
 
 With joy, that on the morrow they 
 
 Would have a chance the foe to slay. — 
 
 But little their spirits, wandering free. 
 
 Dreamed 'twould be last time they should see 
 
 The lovely haunts they once pursued. 
 
 In hai^pier days and happier mood. 
 
 At length to sleep their senses flew. 
 
 Just as the game-cock loudly crew, 
 
 Announcing that the dawn was near. 
 
 The hour that goblins disappear 
 
 Into their dreary forts, where sjirites 
 
 Plan campaigns of succeeding nights. 
 
65 
 
 And here we leave those ladies fail' 
 
 In slumber, till tlie hour of i)rayer 
 
 Awoke tliem up to duty's call ; 
 
 For 'neatli tlieir huruble cottage wall 
 
 Old Father Tom arrived to say 
 
 (As 'twas his hal)it on the way) 
 
 The last Mass, perhnps, he ever more 
 
 Would offer on this earthly shore. 
 
 Here then, by Lough Derg's peaceful flow. 
 
 We close our second, sweet Canto. 
 
 END OP SECOND CANTO. 
 
 CANTO THE THIRD. 
 
 Who comes so fearless and serene, 
 This day on yonder winding green ^ 
 Or does she deign a grave to find, 
 A soldier's grave of humble kind. 
 Bodes there no fear within her heai-t, 
 Which cannon balls, seem to im]>nit 
 To all around, but firmly she 
 Treads on the gory-spotted lea ; 
 Of all her train, iinheeded by 
 The thundering bolts that split the sky, 
 O'er Limerick city, as fierce a day, 
 As e'er was sung in Trojan's lay. 
 
66 
 
 Home-spun the garments that she wore ;- 
 And a musket in her hand she bore, 
 And brightly gleaming by her side. 
 Her flowing gown seemed well to hide 
 A sword, and pair of pistols cased, 
 And a belt with daggers on her waist. 
 A helmet, sparkling bright and sheen, 
 Disi)laying emblems of the Green 
 She loved so well, was on her head, 
 As to the fray her sex she led ; 
 Her sex consisting of but ten, 
 Yet braver than a hundred men, 
 When led by one who now appears, 
 Hailed by three hearty Irish cheers. 
 So turned Belinda to tlie gate. 
 Where O'Donnell's sign was seen of late. 
 With every patriot pulse on fire, 
 She looked to the Cathedral spire. 
 Where waved the flag of McDermot Roe, 
 She knew was bottling with the foe. 
 Her father's stau-.liid well she knew, 
 W(uild stand with the O' Donnell Aboo, 
 Or fall together in the strife, 
 Not till they both had parted life. 
 
 II. 
 
 On Limerick's walls, O' Donnell stood 
 In midst of danger and of blood ; 
 
07 
 
 While William's men on every side, 
 In countless numbers, madly tried 
 Those well defended walls to gain, 
 O'er the usands^ dying, thousands slain ; 
 Foi' well they stood, those noble walls 
 Beneath King William's mighty balls. 
 There at the breach, Belinda served 
 Her country well, and well deserved — 
 And looking o'er the scene, observed 
 O' Donnell battling with the foe. 
 Beside the great McDermot Roe. 
 Tl»3n tears they came upon her face. 
 Although in such a dangerous place ; 
 For years had jiassed, since she had seen 
 His form on the village green : 
 They loved each other, nor of sin. 
 Could harbor aught round Coolavin. 
 And now let whate'er will betide. 
 She rushes to O' Donnell' s side. 
 "Tis she," he cried, as with a start, 
 He clasped her firmly to his heart ! 
 " Oh ! we have loved, and should this day 
 My soul to regions liear away, 
 I'll think of thee among the blest. 
 Or damned in bell that I may rest I 
 I'll think of hapi)y days of yore, 
 When round Cloongee, we wandered o'er 
 
68 
 
 The iiKnintain wild, the hill aud dale, 
 
 Where we once sat, to breathe the gale 
 
 Of perfume, from the hawthorn tree — 
 
 Those moments sweet are dear to me. 
 
 But ah ! yon party of great power, 
 
 In numbers down upon us lower 
 
 Their murderous guns, with horrid crash 
 
 Against the walls, they seem to dash 
 
 In fragments flying through the air, — 
 
 But we are strangers to despair ; 
 
 For Berwick, Sarsfield, our bravest men. 
 
 Have yet to die, ere it they win. 
 
 But ha ! the breach they're climbing now. 
 
 Like demon-fiends from every brow ; 
 
 The sun is sinking in the west. 
 
 And evening welcomes all to rest. 
 
 The foe are pressing through the gate — 
 
 Belinda flee ! no longer wait. 
 
 Enough for me the present state ! 
 
 Thus spoke Belinda, to O'Donnell, "no, 
 
 At sucli a time as this to go. 
 
 And leave thee here in such a strife, 
 
 I'd rather ten times loose my life ! 
 
 What are those worldly joys to me. 
 
 And riches too if far from thee ? 
 
 Oh! let me stay, O'Donnell, do, 
 
 I'm hapi)y here along with you ; 
 
69 
 
 And ii' we fall in siicli a lis'it? 
 
 Our spirits joined, shall take their tiight 
 
 To heavenly regions, bright and gay, 
 
 Foi-ever there ill peace to stray. 
 
 So long as in me life remains, 
 
 I'll share thy sorrows, and thy pains. 
 
 But why those looks, that heavy sigh. 
 
 Has conscience dared to mark thine eye ? 
 
 Something I wean disturbs thy brow. 
 
 Then l)e it kncjwii unto me now. 
 
 Ah! thus to leave thee, heaven, no, 
 
 Tlmt ti^ar now falling says not so ; 
 
 Tliou'rt still sincere — but there's a gloom 
 
 I'pon tliy cheek, tit for the tomb ! 
 
 Dwells in thy bosom, evil deed. 
 
 Come, be it known, I'll pluck the weed? 
 
 If it can be done with Iniman hand — 
 
 Ah ! love you tremble, as you stand." 
 
 "Oh, yes!" O'Donnell, thus replied. 
 
 While from his face the tears he dried, 
 
 A)id stood, hands clasped, oh! yes, 
 
 I am so guilty, I dare not kiss 
 
 Those •li]>s that I have kissed before, 
 
 Ere virtue left me evermore. 
 
 With bosom bleeding, and demented core! 
 
 Then go, Beliiidii — I have souglit, 
 
 But lustful acts in every thought, 
 
70 
 
 While on the mountains fast and free, 
 Since last I bade adieu to thee. 
 Though in the wartield I am bold, 
 My conscience dares me now to liold 
 A maid so lovely as thou art, 
 Entirely terrifies my sinful heart ; 
 And if my lij^s, 1 touched at tirst 
 To thine Belinda, for they're cursed, 
 Forgive me, oh ! it was the wish 
 Again to see thee, caused the rush ! 
 'Twas the remembrance of oiir love. 
 That bade me leave yon wall above ; 
 Nor recked then of my j)resent state. 
 But willed as if to ope' heaven' s gate 
 And leave thee there — such happy place, 
 I fear me much I ne'er can trace. 
 I loathe to tell my hellisli acts. 
 The outlines may betray the facts ; 
 Let all my sins to-day be given 
 To Him, who rules supreme in heaven. 
 But see ! the broken breach they climb. 
 This seems the most decisive time — 
 Flee ! instant tiee ! forever Hee, 
 And leave this horrid jilace to me ! 
 Adieu ! some chieftain bold inspire 
 Thy spotless heart, with love's true tire ; 
 While thou'rt on earth, though I'm in hell- 
 (Yet God forbid I in it dwell) 
 
71 
 
 I still shall love thee, and thou' It pray 
 
 For my poor spirit, night and day. 
 
 Had I been worthy of thy heart, 
 
 In death I would not from thee part ; 
 
 But I'm so foul compared to you. 
 
 That I must go, adieu ! adieu ! " 
 
 • ' Stay ! stiiy ! O' Donnell, though unlilest, 
 
 You live within this frail breast. 
 
 And if thou wert ten times as cursed, 
 
 I love thee still, with all thy lust ! 
 
 And if there be, but only one 
 
 Emotion sweet, of days now gone, 
 
 'Twill satisfy my weary heart, 
 
 And leave it with thee though we part. 
 
 Whate' er there is of inward guilt, 
 
 The blood shall save our Saviour spilt. 
 
 Then go, I follow to the strife. 
 
 In death then claim me as thy wife ; 
 
 For I have come prepared to-day. 
 
 My country's enemies to slay — 
 
 May heaven direct our arms aright. 
 
 Before the foe this woeful niaht." 
 
 v.* 
 
 " Unworthy, oh ! Belinda, as am I, 
 And wilt thou follow and with me die, 
 Our luipes of lieavi^n then God fortify. 
 
T2 
 
 But why so speak, while comes the foe — 
 Belinda tlee this place of woe, 
 Go ! go ! this instant, nor longer stay," 
 O'Donnell shouted, as he dashed away. 
 A chieftain bold, who lately led 
 His band, when many a hero bled ; 
 Who spi'ung from Erin's noblest blood, 
 And had before the brunt withstood 
 Of many a hard and well fought iield. 
 Nor e'er to Saxon did he yield. 
 But soiled Ms name, by deeds that lave 
 His heart with sorrow, as it gave 
 Each now and then, that settled truth, 
 How virtue left him with his youtli. 
 O'er Coolavin, and many a scene 
 Of loveliness and beauty sheen, 
 With Belinda he had happy been ; 
 But 'twas in youth, before began 
 That coarse which ruins a fiery man : 
 Blest in his own deai- native isle, 
 Till he had parted her, to smile 
 No more on woman half as blight, 
 As he was then with virtue's light. 
 Tlius many a man thro' passion's sway, 
 Ne'er knows on earth a happy day, 
 Ne'er feels an hour of peaceful rest, 
 While thoughts of lust attack his breast ; 
 
73 
 
 And burns the essence of his core, 
 Now lost to shame for evermore. 
 Ah ! pity that the souls of men. 
 Are bound to see each horrid sin. 
 Their habitations (huly fill. 
 Without an effort to suppress 
 That loathsome form of wretchedness. 
 Oh ! virtue, how can nu^rtals Hee 
 For rest to any i»iint but thee ; 
 For peace or comfort anywhere, 
 But what thou hast enoun-h to s])are ! 
 Then be to me the truest friend. 
 Till on this earth my days I end ; 
 None sought thee yet but were below 
 Free from sorrow, grief and wf)e. 
 And non<' will seek thee, but shall feel 
 That thou hast every cJiarm to heal. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Meantime the eager foe had gained 
 
 The broken breach, and there remained, 
 
 But all in vain they spilt their blood ; 
 
 For Erin's sons before them stood 
 
 So bravely, and so fiercely there, 
 
 That none to face them hardly dare. 
 
 Ah ! terrible had been each l)low. 
 
 The men of Ireland dealt the foe, 
 10 
 
74 
 
 Backed by their wives and daughters who 
 Were dealing death around tlieni too ; 
 With pots and pans, of every kind ; 
 They could within the city find. 
 The cannon's roar and shells around, 
 And shouts of thousands on the ground. 
 Filled all the earth, resembling hell, 
 Where spirits of the damned must dwell ; 
 While to the breach in hurry rushed 
 The foes of Erin, who were crushed 
 Horde after horde — King William, he 
 Beheld from Cromwell's battery, 
 Dismayed our heroes' bravery. 
 
 VII. 
 
 One thousand now, one more again 
 Of Williamites prolong the din. 
 And are cut off as they appear. 
 While thousands more fill n\) tlie rear. 
 The pik«, the pitchfork, eveiy blade 
 Of Irish steel, an havoc made, 
 Firm as the will of Ca;sar, on 
 The margin of the Rnlncon. 
 Again they meet, again they dash 
 Their swords together, with a Hash 
 Both fall, haply to yield their breath, 
 And conquer in the arms of death ; 
 
75 
 
 Then tramiiling o'er them others meet. 
 Wliile shells are falling fast and Heet, 
 And balls are wliizzing throngh the air, 
 Wliich Lanzen far away doth hear, 
 Who had retreated on the ax)proach 
 Of William's men, the i)oor cockroach: 
 Unworthy of that illnstrions race. 
 Whose actions time shall ne'er efface. 
 Whose power all o'er the world is felt. 
 Where'er Napoleon's name is spelt. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Here soldiers were from every Isle 
 
 To Europe known, and grim the while. 
 
 As pressing onward in the figlit 
 
 Were they, whicli closed not with the night 
 
 For the beseigers could not reach 
 
 The gallant few, that held the bi'each. 
 
 Oft Erin's sous o'erthrew the foe. 
 
 By ordei's of McDermot Roe, 
 
 Hard fought he at Belinda's side, — 
 
 With gore of Brandenbnrghers dyed 
 
 His coat of armor, but he recked 
 
 Not who his coutriments inspect. 
 
 Well fought the Prince of Coolavin, 
 
 And the O'Donnell of the glen. 
 
 And Kate was there, as firm and bold, 
 
 As Helen in the d:iys of old. 
 
76 
 
 For whom lier regal kniglitly boy, 
 Laid seige, and conquered ancient Troy. 
 Long, well, and terrible they fought. 
 And here and there the enemy souglit ; — 
 The wrongs were in their hearts to-day. 
 Of I'entnries long past away ! 
 Tlie wrongs unrighted many a year. 
 Which kept their ancestors in fear. 
 They would revenge upon the spot, 
 And Saxon rule forever blot. 
 And ever, and anon, the fate 
 Of foes lay in the hands of Kate, 
 Who with iiplifted arm the wliile. 
 Could kill an enemy and smile ; 
 Nor knew compunction, or regret, 
 Her father s wrongs she thinks of yet. 
 And lovers whom a Saxon slew 
 Without an Ii'ish friend in view ; 
 When desolation marked tlie ])lace, 
 Once tlie abode of all her race. 
 Who i'iired, like others of their kin, 
 The cruel designs of wicked men. 
 That plundered all the island then. 
 
 IX. 
 
 But see ! Belinda ! how she tights 
 Beside her country's noble knights. 
 
How now her arms are raised on high, 
 
 As if imploring from tlie slvy 
 
 Assistance, but whene'er they fall, 
 
 A dead man .sinks beneath the wall ! 
 
 Now cheering on her wariior sex. 
 
 Against the force of William Rex ; 
 
 Now trampling on those overthrown 
 
 By 2)ot and pan, and rolling-stone. 
 
 And missiles of whatever sort, 
 
 Were found in alley, lane and court : 
 
 She now directing, now reiilying. 
 
 And sometimes weejiing o'er the dying. 
 
 The dying fiiends. wlio "loiuid her stood. 
 
 That day of horror, and of blood ! 
 
 Yet ever on her tongue, a speech 
 
 Was to protect the broken l)reach. 
 
 On which she stood a hotter day, 
 
 Thau e'er was sung in Homer's lay. 
 
 And now from hill to lom-ly plain, 
 
 (As Brian that whipped the liaughty Dane) 
 
 Is heard the tale of titose briglit days, 
 
 And Limerick's heroes all dolh i>raise. 
 
 And many a heart, unused to fe(4 
 
 A ]>ulse-beat in tlieii- country's zeal, 
 
 Still love to s})eak of all its fame. 
 
 And to their children lisj) its name. 
 
 There Sarstield, and his heroes slew 
 
 King Willliam's foreign enslaving crew; 
 
78 
 
 Fought 'gainst a liost from «veiy clime, 
 A mixture mixed not since that time. 
 
 X. 
 
 There Father Tom, of lionest heart, 
 His sacred offices impart. 
 And from his bosom would iinlix, 
 Before the dying, a crucifix ; 
 With hand of blessing o'er their head, 
 To guide their spirit, as it tied 
 Unto a home of lasting peace ; 
 For they departed full of grace, 
 And died in a deserving cause, 
 Upholding Grod' s eternal laws. 
 True to their ever-holy creed — 
 How could their spirits stand in need. 
 Which only waited to be freed ; 
 There where a wounded soldier lay. 
 Old Father Tom would wend his way. 
 Consoling, and annointing liini 
 Whose closing eyes were growing dim, 
 Dim to this vale of earthly grief, — 
 From whom else could they get relief, 
 But from the Clergy, faithful to 
 Their loving charge, — I never knew 
 In hour of danger or of need, 
 One of them to betray their creed. 
 
79 
 
 They are the firmest that stand 
 
 To God, and to their fatherland. 
 
 There is no nation on tlie earth, 
 
 That knows so well their heavenlj^ Avorth, 
 
 As Erin, where they always were 
 
 The poor man's pride, the rich one's care. 
 
 For in all the sorrows of the Celt, 
 
 And tliey were many that he felt. 
 
 They with her people stood serene, 
 
 Beneath the sweet folds of the green, 
 
 And conrage gave when all seemed lost, 
 
 We know at what a fearful cost ; 
 
 Hope whispered in the patriot's ear. 
 
 And calmed, and soothed all his fear ; 
 
 Wept as he wept, and cheered his last 
 
 Departing gaze, with glories past. 
 
 Ah ! never in the peasant' s ht)me. 
 
 Shall fade the light tliat is to come ; 
 
 The glory of the Irish priest. 
 
 Shall bloom forever there at least ! 
 
 Now Father Tom, the good old priest, 
 
 Is called in hurry and in haste 
 
 To the old huntsman of Cloongee, 
 
 Who wounded lay upon the lea ; 
 
 And thei-e was seen above his liead, 
 
 Three Williamites ah'eady dead ; 
 
 So well the sportsman knew his gamp. 
 
 Death was to him oi' life the same ; 
 
80 
 
 He saw the ruin the Saxon made, 
 Before he left his native shade, 
 And the dispersion of his race. 
 Was pictured in liis dying face — 
 His race nigh run, himself the last 
 Of all the huntsmen of the past, 
 AVlic) o'er the Curlew mountains Hew, 
 Tliat well the ti'aclvs of reynard knew. 
 All, all is o'er, he's lying low, 
 Clutched in the arms of his foe ! 
 There too the stiirdj^ boatman lay 
 Smiling in death, but cold as (^lay ; 
 Cold, too, the enemy by their side, 
 Which plainly told the way they died ; 
 Their father and his daughters three 
 Ere now were in eternity ; 
 All to their country gave their lives. 
 And of that family none survives 
 But one, the Limerick maids relate, 
 Who died like them in Ninety-eight ; 
 Who carried tiie hate, engendered then, 
 A hundred yeai's, to tight again. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Where thickest rose the bloody swell, 
 
 O'Donnell fought as poets tell, 
 
 Where most the tliuudering cannons roar, 
 
61 
 
 As dauntless as tlie name he bore 
 
 Through life on Erin's fervid shore. 
 
 Belinda ever by liis side, 
 
 In many a foe her da-nger dyed ; 
 
 None more conspicuous in the fray 
 
 Than tliey on tliat eventful day. — 
 
 "Butliark!" O'Donnell sliouted, "see! 
 
 The Brandenberghers gain yon battery ; 
 
 Belinda from this place repair, — 
 
 I'll blow the wretches in the air ; 
 
 And ere the sun a fathom lowers 
 
 We'll count the day, and Limerick ours." 
 
 So saying, O'Donnell instant lit 
 
 (For tliat desp(4-ate business he was fit) 
 
 The powder mine, and through tlie air 
 
 Rolled sliafts of tliunder everywhere. 
 
 The earth it trembled, miles around, 
 
 And William fainted at the sound ; 
 
 Skulls, legs, and arms in the sky. 
 
 The saved beholder could descry ; 
 
 Of sin, how many a weighty load. 
 
 Some carried to tlieir last aliode. 
 
 To climes of torture or i-epose. 
 
 The which none but Alniiglity knows, 
 
 Who shows ac(H)rding to th<ur merit 
 
 The endless space they must inherit. 
 
 11 
 
82 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Par o'er the rocks of Keeper Hill, 
 Smoke from the city issued still, 
 As if throughout that lonely night 
 To hide the horrors of the tight, 
 The tight that left Green Erin free. 
 By virtue of the "Broken Treaty." 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Now all is still, except the groan 
 
 Of some dying soldier, or the moan 
 
 A lover gave, about to die. 
 
 And leave the maid for w^hom his sigh 
 
 Is sorely given — his nu)ments last 
 
 Recall the days which he had passed 
 
 With her, too sweet on earth to last. 
 
 But worst of all, the sickening sight 
 
 Of Brandenberghers on that night, 
 
 Who looked like furies, with faces black 
 
 As Lucifer around his pack. 
 
 And now and then the ceaseless cry 
 
 Of sufferer in his agony. 
 
 Forebodings gave of worldly greed, 
 
 And how men tight for lying creed. 
 
 Each now and then would take its flight 
 
 A soul, upon what shore to light 
 
 It is not given us here to know. 
 
 But God alone sees where they go. 
 
Yet there are tlic)se tliat virtues bless 
 Through life, and there re|)Ose we guess, 
 Which faith and holy writ has said 
 The moths consuiiie not, nor rust fade; 
 'Tis heaven itself where all sliall go 
 Who lead good lives while here below, 
 And keep those holy ti'uths divine 
 The Scriptures teach in every line. 
 Truths plain enough to faithful eyes, 
 Man's earthly guide to Paradise. 
 Ah ! who would then in evil stroll, 
 And blight the prospects of his soul i 
 WIkj for a fleeting moment's bliss 
 Would leavi:' himself in wretchedness I 
 Forbid it Heaven tliat ever we 
 Thy children, should unhappy be : 
 We who have held, through thick and thin, 
 Thy holy faith — we Irishmen 
 Whom Patrick taught without a tlaw. 
 The precepts of thy heavenly law, 
 Intact until the end of time — 
 Grant we may see thy blessed clime. 
 
 XV. 
 
 Sad were the cries that wafted there. 
 And told the mourner's deep despair. 
 In Limerick city, all night long. 
 Too sad to tell, or U> prolong. 
 
84 
 
 A widow o'er lier liusband leaned, 
 And there an orjihan long remained, 
 With tearful eyes, that indicate 
 The i)rospects of his future state. 
 Nor less the cries of mastiff bold, 
 That lay beside his master cold. 
 With longing gaze, to see him rise. 
 Until bewildered with his cries. 
 He looks, still wondering why he lay 
 So long at rest, uor left till day ; 
 Then growling at the man's intent. 
 That drove him off, away he went 
 Reluctantly, with tedious jiace. 
 Oft turning round to see the face 
 Of him, with whom of late he led 
 A wreckless life, as fast he sjied 
 Uii liill and down, till on tlie lea. 
 The dying liare no more was free. 
 While down upon the plain is led, 
 Tlie wagon to cany off the dead, 
 ( )r living with his lamp scarce lit. 
 Load after load, into the pit. 
 Where is extinguished, the last ray 
 His body feels, till Judgment day ; 
 Then God himself, will surely choose 
 The spotless for His blest repose ; 
 And in Jehosaphat's distant vale. 
 The damned will pour unheeded wail : 
 
85 
 
 Nor rocks, nor liills, shall on them fall : 
 Tho* loud and earntst they may call, 
 But hell will envelo]) the whole, 
 The tiesir united to the soul. 
 For endless time, in pain to be 
 Cursed by their own made misery. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 No mourner there that awful night. 
 Betrayed the gazer such a sight. 
 As poor Belinda, who long souglit 
 For brave 0'Doniii41, sadly frauglit 
 With .sobs and siglis; the zei)]iyr breeze 
 Flung them in eclioes "uiong the trees. 
 While tears were running on liei- face. 
 As o'er the dead, she stayed her pace, 
 Searching, every cor])se she turned. 
 Nor their appearance even spurned, 
 Till, unawares, O'DonneH's frame. 
 Mangled before her vision came I 
 Ten balls had pierced him in the breast. 
 And hfteen wounds had split his chest ; 
 His hand entangled, was like glue. 
 In the hair of Erin's foe he slew ; 
 The other hand his bosuni clasped, 
 xVnd in the ])a]m his sword he grasped. 
 Enough the sight, to break lier heart — 
 She gazed, then gav(? a maniac start, 
 
86 
 
 And fell beside him, at his head 
 
 She held, until her spirit tied 
 
 Away to meet him ; for 'tis said, 
 
 That those in love are still arrayed, 
 
 With loved ones in those scenes of bliss, 
 
 Which they had longed for when in this. 
 
 If such be so, she's sure to see 
 
 O' Donnell there, eternally ; 
 
 For he had ne'er within his breast 
 
 A spot for others' love to rest, 
 
 'Twas her's, from infancy to then. 
 
 He never tried a maid to win ; 
 
 In darkest moments of his life. 
 
 His love was true thro' every strife : 
 
 And though temptation him assailed. 
 
 To think of her he never failed. 
 
 But kept the inborn love he felt. 
 
 Pure as when in Cloongee he dwelt. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Thus perished he, a noble (^hief 
 Of Erin, whose career was brief. 
 But famous to liis native land. 
 In many a battle did he stand, 
 And to exalt it only sought. 
 In every battle which he fought ; 
 Like thousands of those heroes bold. 
 That fell for it in days of old. 
 
87 
 
 Few chiefs or lieroes ever died. 
 As lie with lover at his side ; 
 For " tis the lot of chieftains all, 
 Remote from those they love to fall ; 
 But many die as brave as he. 
 Who seek their country's liberty 
 And freedom's fire try to liglit, 
 The emblem of tlieir ancient I'ight. 
 Tlieir fate soon spread around Atldone, 
 The peasants to whom they were known, 
 In numbers weeping as they sped, 
 Were to their bier in sorrow led ; 
 And mothers with their children young, 
 In praises of their valor sung. 
 For many a year in after day, 
 None can in Limerick now gainsa5^ 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Still in the hearts of those that were, 
 An hundred years from that day there. 
 Remained the memory of them. 
 Which mists of time could scarcely dim ; 
 And many a maid, who strayed alone 
 As evening shadows faintly shone. 
 Threw for a time awa}' her cheer. 
 And o'er them dropped a silent tear! 
 Alas ! how many tears were shed. 
 When Sarsfield, and his men were led 
 
88 
 
 From Erin" s Isle, no more to roam 
 
 The fairy fields they loved at home * 
 
 At home, that word is alien now. 
 
 To many an Irishman I trow ; 
 
 They never saw the country more. 
 
 From which they were reluctant bore. 
 
 But in their hearts, for ever lie 
 
 The memory of that x^artiug cry, 
 
 ' Twas worse than sorrow o' er the grave. 
 
 That parting cry their woukmi gave, 
 
 Whom they should never more behold. 
 
 To cheer them as in days of old ! 
 
 But oft that cry in other lands. 
 
 In Saxon blood, imbrued their hands, 
 
 Caused them to face the hated foe, 
 
 Witli many a death-directed blow — 
 
 Ah ! never more to woman's heart. 
 
 Can grief such loneliness impart. 
 
 Can separation, bring such pain 
 
 To Irishwoman' s heart again ! 
 
 And many a mothei' as she gazed 
 
 At their departuie, never raised 
 
 Her eyes on eartli, of coml'oit riven, 
 
 Her looks, and tlu)ughts were all on heaven. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 'Tis useless more to stretch my strain. 
 For sorrow crowds upon my brain ; 
 
fi9 
 
 'Tis useless for me to prolong 
 
 Tliis touching narrative of song : 
 
 One consQlation is to know 
 
 How fared the great McDermot Roe. 
 
 Who, home returned to Coolavin, 
 
 And ne'er was known to smile again ; 
 
 Yet lived unto a good old age, 
 
 And ne'er in battle did engage : 
 
 But his descendants good and great, 
 
 Fought manfully in Ninety eiglit. 
 
 And oft the silent tear would flow 
 
 Adown the cheeks of McDermot Roe ; 
 
 For yet his sweet Belinda claimed 
 
 The only love of which he dreamed ; 
 
 Till Father Tom, now worn and old. 
 
 His dissolution to him told. 
 
 And closed his eyes, no more to ken 
 
 The peaceful shades of Codlavin ! 
 
 Whether Kate had fallen, whether flew, 
 
 None round the walls of Limerick knew ; 
 
 For she was never after seen 
 
 There, or at Lougli Derg's winding green. 
 
 But some wlio nightly vigils keeji. 
 
 While other men profoundly sleep. 
 
 See, as their secret walks they take. 
 
 Her form gliding o'er the lake ; 
 
 And say that still she wanders there. 
 
 A weeping shadow in the air, 
 12 
 
90 
 
 Her fallen country to deplore, 
 Still on the banks of Lough Derg shore. 
 Not she alone to mourn that time, 
 The saddest to her native clime ; 
 For to this day, beyond the deep, 
 In every clime, the Irish weep 
 The state of their unhappy land, 
 By laws of cursed Saxons damned. 
 
 XX. 
 
 Next of the old, and worthy few. 
 That death' s attachment came to sue. 
 Was Father Tom, himself, but he 
 We leave unto the Diety, 
 Wlio well his many virtues knew, 
 For they were legions to His view. 
 In Him he had a mighty friend. 
 And found at death a jieaceful end ; 
 For all his days wei-e passed in peace, 
 And kindness to the human race. 
 Thus sweetly at the hour of death. 
 He yields to God his latest breath ; 
 The latest woi-ds from him that came, 
 Gave glory to His holy name ; 
 And blest the mourners at his bed, 
 Before his spirit upward fled ; 
 Then closed his eyes, an instant more 
 
91 
 
 They gaze upon that heavenly shore, 
 
 Where pain, can ne' er oppress his core ! 
 
 And thus with sorrow on my brow, 
 
 I close the Siege of Limerick now, 
 
 A poor endeavor ; but by some. 
 
 It may be read in days to come, 
 
 When I am dead, and I am gone. 
 
 And other men, and bards live on ; 
 
 And when, perhaps, my country free, 
 
 Win think of Emmet, if not me. 
 
 Not till that day, let any praise 
 
 Be given to my mournful lays. 
 
 Of joy bereft, — how could they glow 
 
 With merriment, and Erin low ? 
 
 But still a ray uf hope I bring, 
 
 To her, in all the songs I sing, 
 
 Which yet will blossom into light, 
 
 Though long the time, and dark the night. 
 
 Be then prepared, here and at home. 
 
 For the great day that is to come, 
 
 When finally, our race shall see 
 
 Their glorious land forever free I 
 
 THE END. 
 
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