Poems MacCarthy, Florence Denis
Poems MacCarthy, Florence Denis Poems MacCarthy, Florence Denis
118 Already had the stranger band Of Saxons swept the weakened land, Already on the neighbouring hills They named anew a thousand rills, "Our fairest castles," pondered Con, "Already to the foe are gone, Our noblest forests feed the flame, And now we lose our fairest dame." But though his cheek was white with rage, He seemed to smile, and cried--"O Sage! O honey-spoken bard of truth! MacDonnell is a valiant youth. We long have been the Saxon's prey-- Why not the Scot as well as they? He's of as good a robber line As any a Burke or Geraldine. "From Insi Gall,[86] so speaketh fame, From Insi Gall his people came; From Insi Gall, where storm winds roar Beyond the gray Albin's icy shore. His grandsire and his grandsire's son, Full soon fat herds and pastures won; But, by Columba! were we men, We'd send the whole brood back again! "Oh! had we iron hands to dare, As we have waxen hearts to bear, Oh! had we manly blood to shed, Or even to tinge our cheeks with red, No bard could say as you have said, One of the race of Somerled-- A base intruder from the Isles-- Basks in our island's sunniest smiles! "But, not to mar our feast to-night With what to-morrow's sword may right, O Bard of many songs! again Awake thy sweet harp's silvery strain.
119 If beauty decks with peerless charm MacDonnell's wife in fair Glenarm, Say does there bound in Antrim's meads A steed to match O'Donnell's steeds?" Submissive doth the bard incline His reverend head, and cries, "O Con, Thou heir of Conal Golban's line, I've sang the fair wife of MacJohn; You'll frown again as late you frowned, But truth will out when lips are freed; There's not a steed on Irish ground To stand beside MacDonnell's steed! "Thy horses o'er Eargals' plains, Like meteors stars their red eyes gleam; With silver hoofs and broidered reins, They mount the hill and swim the stream; But like the wind through Barnesmore, Or white-maned wave through Carrig-Rede,[87] Or like a sea-bird to the shore, Thus swiftly sweeps MacDonnell's steed! "A thousand graceful steeds had Fin, Within lost Almhaim's fairy hall, A thousand steeds as sleek of skin As ever graced a chieftain's stall. With gilded bridles oft they flew, Young eagles in their lightning speed, Strong as the cataract of Hugh,[88] So swift and strong MacDonnell's steed!" Without the hearty word of praise, Without the kindly smiling gaze, Without the friendly hand to greet, The daring bard resumes his seat. Even in the hospitable face Of Con, the anger you could trace. But generous Con his wrath suppressed, For Owen was Clan Dalaigh's guest.
- Page 67 and 68: 67 Like bees upon the wing on a fin
- Page 69 and 70: 69 And then they braced their two b
- Page 71 and 72: 71 And thus betwixt the twain this
- Page 73 and 74: 73 To fight the fight where my frie
- Page 75 and 76: 75 All these on me in turn shall so
- Page 77 and 78: 77 With such an easy effort that it
- Page 79 and 80: 79 As a huge mill-stone, cracking i
- Page 81 and 82: 81 He to have died and thou to have
- Page 83 and 84: 83 Ah! hapless deed, that still my
- Page 85 and 86: 85 First on the shore, as swift our
- Page 87 and 88: 87 The wave that swallows up the sh
- Page 89 and 90: 89 38. "The plains of Aie" (son of
- Page 91 and 92: 91 This, which it is to be presumed
- Page 93 and 94: 93 Like hooded monks before a dazzl
- Page 95 and 96: 95 I sought the rocky eastern isle,
- Page 97 and 98: 97 At length the long-expected morn
- Page 99 and 100: 99 Hail, spotless Virgin! mildest,
- Page 101 and 102: 101 Knowledge he tracked through ma
- Page 103 and 104: 103 But holding marble basilics and
- Page 105 and 106: 105 Her cold hands chilled the boso
- Page 107 and 108: 107 Bright, even as bright as those
- Page 109 and 110: 109 Rise up to God like morn and ev
- Page 111 and 112: 111 There never falls the rain-clou
- Page 113 and 114: 113 would be always visited and pro
- Page 115 and 116: 115 Sweetly the rising moonbeams pl
- Page 117: 117 To Desmond of the flowing strea
- Page 121 and 122: 121 When all who live on Irish grou
- Page 123 and 124: 123 Thus rushed upon the doomed Mac
- Page 125 and 126: 125 Hangs the long leash that binds
- Page 127 and 128: 127 "If, when I reach my home to-ni
- Page 129 and 130: 129 "Thou'st bravely won an Irish b
- Page 131 and 132: 131 MacDonnells was at Glenarm. 85.
- Page 133 and 134: 133 And such was young Paolo! The m
- Page 135 and 136: 135 prayer. At morning when Paolo d
- Page 137 and 138: 137 And are bless'd in the name of
- Page 139 and 140: 139 But the tower in whose shade th
- Page 141 and 142: 141 Burning and withering, its drop
- Page 143 and 144: 143 his soul. For though sweet are
- Page 145 and 146: 145 Still some scenes are yet encha
- Page 147 and 148: 147 Need we say that Maurice loved
- Page 149 and 150: 149 As he sweepeth through the wild
- Page 151 and 152: 151 There's a crowding and a crushi
- Page 153 and 154: 153 100. The lusmore (or fairy cap)
- Page 155 and 156: 155 Advance! Through hope and work
- Page 157 and 158: 157 That can make thee rouse for it
- Page 159 and 160: 159 Still in the battle for Freedom
- Page 161 and 162: 161 Dark was my dream, though many
- Page 163 and 164: 163 Feel life has but one disaster,
- Page 165 and 166: 165 Who all the spring-time of thy
- Page 167 and 168: 167 We must spend the hour that fli
118<br />
Already had the stranger band<br />
Of Saxons swept the weakened land,<br />
Already on the neighbouring hills<br />
They named anew a thousand rills,<br />
"Our fairest castles," pondered Con,<br />
"Already to the foe are gone,<br />
Our noblest forests feed the flame,<br />
And now we lose our fairest dame."<br />
But though his cheek was white with rage,<br />
He seemed to smile, and cried--"O Sage!<br />
O honey-spoken bard of truth!<br />
MacDonnell is a valiant youth.<br />
We long have been the Saxon's prey--<br />
Why not the Scot as well as they?<br />
He's of as good a robber line<br />
As any a Burke or Geraldine.<br />
"From Insi Gall,[86] so speaketh fame,<br />
From Insi Gall his people came;<br />
From Insi Gall, where storm winds roar<br />
Beyond the gray Albin's icy shore.<br />
His grandsire and his grandsire's son,<br />
Full soon fat herds and pastures won;<br />
But, by Columba! were we men,<br />
We'd send the whole brood back again!<br />
"Oh! had we iron hands to dare,<br />
As we have waxen hearts to bear,<br />
Oh! had we manly blood to shed,<br />
Or even to tinge our cheeks with red,<br />
No bard could say as you have said,<br />
One of the race of Somerled--<br />
A base intruder from the Isles--<br />
Basks in our island's sunniest smiles!<br />
"But, not to mar our feast to-night<br />
With what to-morrow's sword may right,<br />
O Bard of many songs! again<br />
Awake thy sweet harp's silvery strain.