And berries from the wood provide,
And play my clarshech by thy side.45
Then come, my love!'-How could I stay?
Our nimble stag-hounds tracked the way,
And I pursued, by moonless skies,
The light of Connocht Moran's eyes.
"And fast and far, before the star
Of day-spring, rushed we through the glade,
And saw at dawn the lofty bawn 46
Of Castle Connor fade.
Sweet was to us the hermitage
Of this unploughed, untrodden shore;
Like birds all joyous from the cage,
For man's neglect we loved it more:
And well he knew, my huntsman dear,
To search the game with hawk and spear;
While I, his evening food to dress,
Would sing to him in happiness.
But, oh, that midnight of despair,
When I was doomed to rend my hair!
The night, to me, of shrieking sorrow!
The night, to him, that had no morrow!
"When all was hushed at even-tide,
I heard the baying of their beagle:
Be hushed! my Connocht Moran cried,
'Tis but the screaming of the eagle.
Alas! 'twas not the eyrie's sound;
Their bloody bands had tracked us out:
Up-listening starts our couchant hound,-
And, hark! again, that nearer shout
Brings faster on the murderers.
Spare-spare him-Brazil-Desmond fierce!
In vain-no voice the adder charms;
Their weapons crossed my sheltering arms:
Another's sword has laid him low-
Another's, and another's;
And every hand that dealt the blow-
Ah me! it was a brother's!
Yes, when his moanings died away,
Their iron hands had dug the clay,
And o'er his burial-turf they trod,
And I beheld-O God! O God!-
His life-blood oozing from the sod!
"Warm in his death-wounds sepulchred,
Alas! my warrior's spirit brave
Nor mass nor ulla-lulla heard,
Lamenting, soothe his grave.
Dragged to their hated mansion back,
How long in thraldom's grasp I lay
I knew not, for my soul was black,
And knew no change of night or day.
One night of horror round me grew:
Or if I saw, or felt, or knew,
'Twas but when those grim visages,
The angry brothers of my race,
Glared on each eye-ball's aching throb,
And checked my bosom's power to sob;
Or when my heart with pulses drear
Beat like a death-watch to my ear.
"But Heaven, at last, my soul's eclipse
Did with a vision bright inspire:
I woke, and felt upon my lips
A prophetess's fire.
Thrice in the east a war-drum beat,
I heard the Saxon's trumpet sound,
And ranged, as to the judgment-seat,
My guilty, trembling brothers round.
Clad in the helm and shield they came;
For now De Bourgo's sword and flame
Had ravaged Ulster's boundaries,
And lighted up the midnight skies.
The standard of O'Connor's sway
Was in the turret where I lay:
That standard, with so dire a look,
As ghastly shone the moon and pale,
I gave that every bosom shook
Beneath its iron mail.
"And go! (I cried) the combat seek!
Ye hearts that unappalled bore
The anguish of a sister's shriek,
Go!-and return no more!
For sooner guilt the ordeal brand
Shall grasp unhurt, than ye shall hold
The banner with victorious hand
Beneath a sister's curse unrolled.
O stranger! by my country's loss!
And by my love! and by the cross!
I swear I never could have spoke
The curse that severed nature's yoke,
But that a spirit o'er me stood,
And fired me with the wrathful mood,
And frenzy to my heart was given
To speak the malison of Heaven.47
"They would have crossed themselves, all mute;
They would have prayed to burst the spell;
But at the stamping of my foot
Each hand down powerless fell!
And go to Athunree! (I cried) 48
High lift the banner of your pride!
But know that where its sheet unrolls,
The weight of blood is on your souls!
Go where the havoc of your kerne
Shall float as high as mountain fern!
Men shall no more your mansion know!
The nettles on your hearth shall grow!
Dead, as the green oblivious flood
That mantles by your walls, shall be
The glory of O'Connor's blood!
Away! away to Athunree!
Where, downward when the sun shall fall,
The raven's wing shall be your pall!
And not a vassal shall unlace
The vizor from your dying face!
"A bolt that overhung our dome
Suspended till my curse was given,
Soon as it passed these lips of foam,
Pealed in the blood-red heaven.
Dire was the look that o'er their backs
The angry parting brothers threw :
But now, behold! like cataracts,
Come down the hills in view
O'Connor's plumèd partisans ;
Thrice ten Kilnagorvian clans
Were marching to their doom:
A sudden storm their plumage tossed,
A flash of lightning o'er them crossed,
And all again was gloom!
Stranger! I fled the home of grief,
At Connocht Moran's tomb to fall;
I found the helmet of my chief,
His bow still hanging on our wall,
And took it down, and vowed to rove
This desert place a huntress bold;
Nor would I change my buried love
For any heart of living mould.
No! for I am a hero's child;
I'll hunt my quarry in the wild ;
And still my home this mansion make,
Of all unheeded and unheeding,
And cherish, for my warrior's sake-
"The flower of love lies bleeding.'
ODE TO THE MEMORY OF BURNS.
SOUL of the Poet! wheresoe'er Reclaimed from earth, thy genius plume
Her wings of immortality:
Suspend thy harp in happier sphere.
And with thine influence illume
The gladness of our jubilee.
And fly like fiends from secret spell,
Discord and Strife, at Burns's name,
Exorcised by his memory;
For he was chief of bards that swell
The heart with songs of social flame,
And high delicious revelry.
And Love's own strain to him was given, To warble all its ecstasies
With Pythian words unsought, unwilled,
Love, the surviving gift of Heaven,
The choicest sweet of Paradise,
In life's else bitter cup distilled.
Who that has melted o'er his lay
To Mary's soul, in Heaven above,
But pictured sees, in fancy strong,
The landscape and the livelong day
That smiled upon their mutual love?
Who that has felt forgets the song ?
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