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It may be well to inform the reader, in this place 
that the incidents in the poem of Dunhoy are 
historical, not imaginaiy. The poem is "written 
chiefly from the account of the siege given in 
the Pacata Hibernia, than which no fuller or 
more detailed account is extant. To found on 
the fortunes of Donal O'Sullivan and his family 
an interesting historical romance, would be a 
noble and a patriotic Avork — one which has been 
suggested in one of his speeches by the illustrious 
O'Connell — but the writer of the following poem 
has not attempted to do more than versify an 
existing authentic narrative, adding merely such 
minor details as may be supposed to have accom- 
panied the graver events set down in history. 

Dublin, November 16, 18C0. 






Fisherman's Prayer, 

. 113 

A Soldier's Wake, 



Steering Home, 


To my Brother, 


Westward, Ho! 


A Serenade, 


The Little Wife, 


A Winter Night, 

. 125 

The Little Barque, 

. 126 

Home! Home! 

. 128 

Song from the Backwoods, 

. 130 

The Irish American, 


Far Away, 

. 135 

The Old Exile, 

. 136 

The Green Flag, 

. 139 

Michael Dwyer, 

. 140 

Theobald Wolfe Tone, 

. 143 


. 145 

A Valentine, 

. 147 

My Poetess, 

. 150 


Tread where we may on Irish ground, 

From Antrim's coast to wild Cape Clear, 
From East to "West, no view is found 
Without some ruin, rath, or mound 

To tell of times that were ; 
Some lone round tower, yet strong and tall, 

Though swept by many a wasting age ; 
Some wayside Cross, or abbey wall, 

With marks of man's unholy rage ; 
Some graven slab, or giant stone, 

Notched wdth old signs and legends dim. 
Some hallowed nook, wdth green o'ergrown, 

Or moiddering castle, bare and grim. 
Initial letters, all and each, 

Of many a wild and curious story, 
Mute tongues, that, silent, ever preach 

Of Ireland's past of grief and glory. 



Oft at the crimson set of day 

I've gazed upon some war-worn pile, 
And dreamed 'twas lifo-l)lood ebhcd away 

Througli those red chinks that gleamed the while. 
Oft when the night came dark and cold, 

I've sat upon the weed-grown floor, 
Wliere once the white-haired harper told 
Of gallant deeds to clansmen bold ; 
At last, where battle-thunder rolled, 

And foemcn slipped in gore. 
The scene is changed — no shout, no cheer. 
No din of combat meets the ear, 

No rafters ring to music now ; 
On the damp hearth the chill rain falls. 

Stout ash trees grow witliin the halls, 
And in an angle of the Avails 

The peasant stores his idle plough. 

But most I loved a wreck that crowned 

A bright green bank, whose rocky base 
The blue tide circled half way round 

As if 'twould clasp in fond embrace. 
And sever fi'om less honoured ground. 

The glorious soil, the lialloAved place. 
Yet few, upon that gras:^y heap, 

The marks to bid a stranger know 
A castle's wood and stones lie deep. 
And weapons rust, and heroes sleep, 

Its cloak of glistening green below. 


Of one square tower tlie shattered butt 

Alone arrests the gazer's eye, 
The ruins of a peasant's hut 

Above the earth might stand as high ; 
The hollow where a trench had been 

Is rounded like a summer wave, 
The ruined breastwork lifts the green 

No higher than a baby's grave — 

Dnnboy ! Dunboy ! the proud, the strong, 
The Saxon's hate and trouble long, 
AU Ireland's hope, Momonia's boast, 
The pride of Beara's iron coast — 
These grass-grown heaps, this crumbling wall, 
This low green ridge — can these be all 
That war and time have left to tell 
Where, long assailed, and foughten well. 
Thy lofty turrets crashing fell ? 

No more remains ; he seeks no more, 

Who knows the story of the past ; 
He looks to find no stair or door, 
No loop-holed frontage by the shore. 

With shade into the water cast ; 
But o'er the Avreck his reverent eyes 

Build up the pictiure from his brain, — 
Walls, turrets, roofs, in thought arise, 

And Beara's flao; flies out again. 


A firm built pile, of simple shape, 

One plain square hall and slender tower, 
Dunboy stood on the rocky cape. 

The central sign of Beara's power. 
No threatening works its base enwound, 

No cunning fences flanked the way, 
Its outworks were the hills around, 

Its ditch, a blue slip off the bay, 
Stretching along for many a mile, 
Shut in by one long mountain isle, 

"Whose points approached the land so nigh, 
That Beara's watchful men would strain 
Across the strait a heavy chain 

When hostile ships would boldly try 
To force an entrance from the main. 
But calm and bright the lake-like sheet 

Beneath those rough hills ever smiled, 
When fierce waves on_the sea coast beat. 

When \vinds were howling high and wild. 
And madly tossed the sea-ward fleet. 
Each vessel in that safe retreat 

Rocked like the cradle of a child. 
Brown sailors, weary of the sea 

Of summer calm and winter gale, 
Would often say 'twas sweet to be 

The chief of that secluded vale, 
The owner of that castle tall. 

The lord of harbour, plain, and hill, 
With clansmen ready at a call 

To work their master's lijrhtest will. 


But not a ship upon tlie sea 

Nor town nor tower upon the shore 
Obeyed a chief more brave than he 

Whose honoured flag that castle bore,— 
O'Sullivan, the Prince of Beare 

And Bantry of the spacious bay — 
A name his foemen heard with fear, 

But loved by all who owned his sway ; 
One of the proud Eugenian line 

Of Heber's blood, from Eoghan sprving, 
Shoots of the grand old Spanish vine' 

By scholars traced and poets sung. 

Brave Donal ! foes and traitors knew 

His spirit high, and feared it too ; 

While young or old, the poorest man, 

Matron or maid, amongst his clan. 

Whose cause Avas good, whose claim was just, 

In his true heart might safely trust, 

And ask from his superior might 

Support and succour for the right. 

Strong -boned, but spare of flesh was he. 

As shght trees grow beside the sea. 

Yet tall and straight ; his stately form 

Seemed well inured to sun and storm. 

His face was thin, his light brown hair 

Half hid a forehead smooth and fair ; 

Fast'came his thoughts whene'er he spoke. 

From his blue eyes quick flashes broke ; 


But wlule ho mused, or walked alone, 

His features took another tone, 

And slow of step he moved along, 

Like one inwrapt in love or song. 

Yet ever in that manly breast 

The passion rulinp^ all the rest, 

The source to which his thoughts returned, 

The central fire that in him burned, 

By life's own forces fed and fanned, 

Was pure love of his native land. 

Fit chieftain he his clan to sway 

From that tall castle by the bay, 

Whose firm and well embattled front 

Seemed built to bear war's fiercest brunt, 

Yet Avhose broad halls were warm and bright 

With music, laughter, love, and light, 

"Whose strong walls held a quiet nook 

Where stood the Cross and holy Book, 

Where bended knees and reverent feet 

By night and day the flooring trod, 
Whence many a prayer, in accents sweet 

Went through the turrets up to God. 

Stem Donal ! many a care and pain 
Tried that great soul, that brilUant brain : 
Rude shocks of war, and subtler art. 
Broke vainly on that gallant heart, 

And only proved, when all was done, 
A patriot pure and true till death 


A hero to liis latest breath 

Was Beara's Prince, O'Svillivan. 

A scene of peace was Beara's vale 
For months, and years, while through " the Pale", 
Along our northern mountain chains. 
And o'er our fertile midland plains, 
The war for faith and freedom, Avaged 
By gallant Hugh O'Neill, had raged. 
Eiver and fort and pass had seen 
The routed troops of England's queen 
Bleed, gasp, and drown, or fly the land 
'TUl death or distance hid from view 
The Banner of the Blood-Red Hand, 

And hushed the shout " Lamh Dearg Abu !" 
And many a fierce and bloody raid 
The well-armed Saxon troops had made ; 
Oft had they swept, in barbarous ire, 
O'er towns and fields with sword and fire, 
Left where they passed but trampled lawns. 
And blackened fields, and empty bawns. 
The flames of village roof-trees showed 
The way theu' ruthless forces went ; 
Dismantled churches marked their road 
With many a mournful monument. 

8 nLN'uor, 

Disease, aud Irish swurds, cut down 

Thuir niuks, but fresh iuvaders came ; 
Their cruel cjueen would lose her crown, 

Or win at last the bloody game. 
Yet dared the bold O'Neill to cope 

With all her world-kiKnvn wealth and might ; 
In Iri^h anus he placed his hope, 
With succour from the holy Pope, 

And Spain's good King, to aid the right. 
Gladly tlic looked-for help was giveu — 

The Royal Pontiflf blest the cause, 
And prayed the choicest grace of Heaven 
On those brave men to battle driven 

For Christ's pure faith and Erin's laws. 
Deep chests of gold King Pliilip sent 
With notice of his fixed intent 
To aid the strife as 'twere his own, 
Not with his steel or gold alone — 
A portion of his army brave, 

Full well equipped and nobly led. 
Would soon be speeding o'er the wave 

To join the native force, he said. 
And sweep the isle, from coast to coast 
Free of the savage Saxon host. 

'Twas blessdd news — a tale of joy. 
It filled the land, it reached Dunboy; 
'Twas told by many a peasant's hearth 
While young and old were circled round. 


And many a war-like wisli had birth, 

And many a heart would gladly bound, 
As great King Philip's praise was rung 
In rich rolls of the Irish tongue. 
Upon the hills 'twas argued o'er 

AVlien clansmen, friends, or neighbours met, 
'Twas long discussed on sea and shore, 

By fishers tending boat and net. 
The very crones, low bent and old. 

Talked bravely of the mighty King, 
In flowing periods proudly told 
His men, his ships, his store of gold. 

The force the promised fleet would bring, 
To win again the Irish lands 
From out the robber Saxons' hands, 
And chase from off" the Irish sod 
Those murderers of the saints of God. 

So spoke his people one and all, 

So swelled the voice of hut and hall, 

When pacing slow, one summer day, 

Before his castle, by the tide 
The Prince of Beara paused to say 

To gallant clansmen at his side — 
" Our country calls ! why dream we here ? 

Her cries have pierced beyond the main 
Why linger midst the hUls of Beare 

While aids arrive from distant Spain, 


Wlicn he who sits where Peter sate, 

Holding within his saintly hands, 
The keys of Heaven's eternal gate. 

Has blest our patriot Irish bands, 
And cheered with like rewards, their work, 

AMio fight the Saxon and the Turk ?" 
Up ! up ! my men, but yestere'en 

My fastest craft brought in the tale— 
The Spaniard's stately ships were seen 

Within the harbour of Kiusale; 
From their huge sides unto the shore 

Brave soldiers by the hundred went, 
And to each fort a goodly store 

Of all the needs of war was sent. 
Come let us call from hill and coast 

All Beare and Bantry's fighting men, 
And haste to join that gallant host, 

Wlio raise our country's hopes again ! 
What though in London's gloomy tower 

Desmond and brave MacCarthy pine,' 
And Munster's boldest chieftains cower, 
Before Carew's and Thomond's power, 

Tlie grander cause is yours and mine 1 
No boon, no gift we own to day 

From the fierce Queen of England's hands ; 
We spTirn her peace, wc cast away 

Her patent for our fathers' lauds,* 
And read our rights, not from her scrolls. 
But on our swords and in our souls ! 

DUNBOY. 1 1 

Come let us forth : whoe'er may fail 

Whoe'er may falter or delay, 
We join the camp before Kinsale — 

Wliat do my trusty clansmen say ?" 

They answered loud, the words he spoke 
Glad echoes in their hearts awoke ; 
They loved to meet theii- country's foes 

On battle fields, -with axe and lance, 
As maidens, blooming like the rose. 

Loved the sweet song and meriy dance. 
A foul and loathsome tiling, they said, 

The traitor's heart must ever be, 
The wretch whose life it feeds, must 

To look mthin himself and see : 
And Httle purer is his heart 

Wlio hears his country's battle cry — 

Who sees her red strife raging nigh — 
Yet coAvers and shiinks and stands apart, 

Irresolute, afraid to die ; 
Or who with furtive eye looks on 

And marks the fortunes of the fight. 
Prepared, when all is lost and won. 

To join the victor, wrong or right- 
Ready to worship fraud and guilt ; 

Or should they fail, as quick to claim 
A glory m the bright blood spilt 

In truth's good cause, in freedom's name. 

13 DL'>'BOT. 

The chieftain's face with j)leasurc glowed 
As towards his castle gate he strode, 
But darkened with a shade of thought 

As, drawing near the loop-huled walls, 
Sweet tones the channdd breezes brought • 

In full soft swells and gentle falls. 
He knew her voice — his Eileen fair! 

lie felt its harp-like ripples run, 
lie knew the wild, yet plaintive air 

That hushed to sleep liis darling son. 
"Heaven guard", he said, "my lights of life. 
My children dear, my gentle wil'e ! 
God save young Donal ! may he be 
A Prince in Erin glad and free, 
A chief of fame on land and sea ! 
Young Donal, were I asked to-day, 
To look my whole life through, and say, 
Since first a human utterance stirred 

My heart ^vith neAvs of joy or woe, 
"What was the happiest tale I heard, 

I'd ova\ 'twas said five years ago 
In that short speech, that simple one, 
That told me of your birth, my son. 
God keep us ! times of change are these — 
A Prince one day, the next day sees 
A houseless wanderer, robbed and banned. 
With strangers fattening on his land ; 
For only those who bend and bow 
To foreign churls are nobles now — 


But He who reads my spirit, knows 

I'd rather see my name and race 
Stamped out by Ireland's brutal foes 

Than flourish through such dii-e disgrace". 

So mused the Piince as soft he stept 
Where EUeen sung and Donal slept. 
Their greetings o'er, the sunny smile 
Evanished from his face awhile, 
And once again the painful thought 
Its change upon his featiu'es wrought ; 
' But soon it passed — his dark eye burned 
With love's pure light, as full he turned 

To her whose heart, however deep 
Its gushing love, for ever gave 

Such counsel as a Prince might keep, 
And still be bravest of the brave : 
And thus he said — 

" My Eileen deaf, 
I know I scarcely need to say 

That Donal's heart is ever here, 
Let Honour call him where she may, — 

With you, Avith this dear boy, and those - 
Sweet babes whose years are fewer still, 

But well my gentle Eileen knows 
That Donal's duty shapes his will. 

To-day " 

He paused, but Eileen said — 


" My Donal, I have heard the tale, 
And guessed your thoughts ; but never dread 

My wi'll-tried heart even now will fail. 
King Philip's aids have come at length 

Our country and our faith to free, 
And you would go, with Bcara's strength 

To join the strile. — Ah, woe is me ! 
"WTiat can I do but sigh and pray 

Above my babes — a sad employ — 
And sorrowing gaze each weary day 

Across the hills from loue Dunboy 1" 

Around her trembling form he threw, 

With hght touch like a tendril's clasp, 
Those great strong ai'ms his foemen knew 

So forceful in their hostile grasp ; 
And said in murmurs soft and low — 

" God bless and guard you well, mo stor : 
Those troubled days that come and go 

But make me love you more and more ; 
As fruit is ripened on the tree, 

And flowers are touched ■with charming 
Not by one heaven of brilliancy, 

But skies of changing light and gloom. 
Not in Dunboy, my Eileen dear, 

My babes shall sleep and you shall pray, 
Lest war and fire should gather here 

While Beara's troops are far away. 


Our brave old castle for a time 

A Spanish force shall have and hold, 
Sure gunners, tried in many a clime, 

And chosen swordsmen, quick and bold. 
From these no prowling English foes 

Shall take our home beside the sea, 
No traitorous Irish, worse than those. 

The masters of our land shall be ; 
But you shall stay, my cherished wife, 

In Avild, but warm GlengarifFe, where 
No sights or sounds of deadly strife 

Shall fright youj eye or shock your ear. 
The wind through bright arbutus trees 

And low oak woods, the blackbird's song. 
Sweet river music mixt with these 

Shall softly speed your days along ; 
And oh, let dreams as calmly sweet 

And hopes as bright, your comfort be, 
Tin once again I come to meet 

My own dear Avife, mo stor, machree ! " 

Through all the castle quickly fled 
The warlike words the Prince had said ; 
The women whispered, half alarmed. 

With looks and signs that boded ill ; 
The hardy kerns smiling armed 

To try was all in order still ; 
Shook their long spears with handles tough. 

Stretched their strong arms and o'er them drew 


Thiir jiickets made of hempen stuff 

With small steel rings worked on and through ; 
Felt their good skeans along the edge, 

And laughing pulled their beards and glibs, 
And told when last each slender wedge 

Went in between a focman's riljs ! 
The stern old bard looked proudly round 

And eyed the group, as if to say, 
To liim they owed that victory croN\'ned 

Their efforts on each battle day ! 
Then to his honoured seat he strode, 

Placed his loved hai-p between liis knees, 
Sweet preludes from his fingers flowed, 

And then he sung such words as these, 
Unto an air that rippled first. 

Then swelled and shook his strings of gold. 
Then loud as summer thunder burst, 

And throu":h the castle echoing rolled : — 

Who will hold back when O'Sullivan, loudly, 

Calls on his people to baste to his aid ? 
Who will not rush to him, gladly and proudly, 
Fire in his heart and an edge on liis blade ? 

Kindred ! clansmen ! 

Seamen and landsmen ! 
Young men and old men, a-far and a-near ! 

Together! together! 

In calm or wild weather, 
"When called by the shout of O'Sullivan Beare! 



Never a coward, a cringer or quailer, 

Was chieftan of Beara of late or of yore ; 
Ever a hero, a soldier and sailor, 

Mighty at sea and resistless on shore ! 

Landsmen ! seamen ! 

Fearless and free men ! 
Namesakes and kinsmen a-far and a-near ! 

Together! together! 

From sea-foam and heather 
Come on to the call of O'SuUivan Beare ! 


Come -with a rush when O'Sullivan needs you, 

Worthy yoiu* cheerful devotion is he ! 
Gaily dash on where O'Sullivan leads you, 
Fearing not, caring not, where it may be ! 
Tall men ! small men ! 
Stout men and all men, 
Horsemen and boatmen a-far and a-near ! 
Together! together! 
In calm or wild weather 
When called by the shout of O'Sullivan Beare ! 

Where was the heart that would not spring 
To notes like these, the listeners said. 

Such quickening words and tones should brmg 
A clansman from his dying bed. 

18 ItlNBOT. 

'Twas well to have, before the fray 
WTiile redly loomed the battle day 

Such music surging tlu-ough the bram : 
It nerved the hand that held the spear, 
It filled the veins •mih fire, to hear 

So wild, so bold a strain ! 

The evening sped, the tliin gray night 
Passed quickly on ; but ere the light 
Of morning touched the eastern bound 
Of Beare or Bantry's rugged ground, 
The news had spread, the Prince's call 
Had reached his warriors one and all. 
They came fi-om near and far away, 

From headlands bold, and sheltered creeks, 
The bearded fishers of the bay 

"With calm gray eyes and hollow cheeks, 
With hands like iron, hard and brown, 

And hearts that never knew despair, 
"WHion wild and black the storm came down. 

And only Heaven could see and hear 

Their wave-tossed craft, their heartfelt pray'r. 
The merrier children of the hUls, 

With faces red as evening skies, 
AVith firmer steps, with fiercer wills. 

With quicker passions in their eyes. 
Some who had borne the brunt before 

Of deadly battle, but who felt 
Their hands could deal good blows once more. 

If not such blows as once they dealt ; 


And glowing youths, wlio never yet 

A foe in mortal combat met, 

But whose hearts' hope was now to be 

The foremost rank of all, — to see 

And smite the churls who dared be found 

As Ireland's foes on Irish groimd. 

All day they came, and days passed by 

And saw them stUl assembling there, 
They paused to shape, to fit and try 

Their dress and weapons : sword and spear 
They stuck into the earth upright 

And blest "with many a form and pray'r.* 
They bade them flash like blinding light. 
And break not, bend not, through the fight, 
Nor ever glance or turn aside, 

But striking keen, whate'er the part. 
Find out the mortal vein, and glide 

Eight onward towards the foeman's heart ! 

At length arrived the marching day, 

And all was ready — every man 

His duty knew, and Donal's plan, 
And all cried out to lead the way ! 
The Prince strode forward to a mound, 

And, looking back, beheld with joy 
The himdreds of his clan and race 
With patriot fire in every face 
Who stood like living ramparts round 

The gray walls of Dunboy ! 


He gave the word to march ! — A shout 

Of stormy ghadness upward rushed, 
The morning sun shone redly out, 

And all the landscape purple flushed ! 
The bristling mass moved gaily on. 
And ere one bright'ning hour was gone, 

The latest ranks were lost to sight ; 
But twice or thrice — so rough the groimd — 
The force was seen as slow it wound 
Some mountain's base or headland round, 

Or climbed some sudden height. 
Then silence brooded over Beare 
And by Dunboy ; the sharpest ear 
In passing by coidd only hear 

The mimic waves, the whispering breeze. 
Or drawing near the castle waUs, 
The warders' tread through empty halls, 

And clanking of their keys. 

Not many days had fleeted by 

Since Donal left his mountain home, 
AMien from Beare island's summit high. 
The anxious watchers could descry 
A foreign war-ship drawing nigh, 
And pitching through the foam. 


She crossed the bay, she swept around 
The island's western point, and found 

The harbour's safest way, 
And those who saw her passage, knew 
Berehaven pilots steered her to 

The mooring where she lay. 
Brass guns peeped through her rounded side, 

Her stern was carved, and blazed with gold, 
Bright saints looked mildly on the tide, 

And winged angels stooped to hold 
The painted ribbon, opening wide. 

Whereon her name Avas grandly scrolled. 
Her prow was curled and gilded too, 

And from her topmasts slim and high 
The Spanish colours proudly flew, 

A welcome sign to every eye. 

Soon from her deck the sailors lowered 
Their painted pinnace, many-oared, 
Upon her planks the light crew sprung. 
Rich cloaks upon her seats were flung. 
Then gallant chiefs whose dress was bright 
With rich rewards for many a fight. 
Stepped in, and soon were rowed to land 

Beneath Dunboy, where all leaped out. 
Sunk their sharp anchor in the strand, 

Then sauntered on and gazed about ; 
Marked how the castle looked and bore 
On wood and mound and winding shore. 


What parts were strong, what walls were weak, 
Which point assailants first would seek. 
Where were the nooks and rooms, the ward 
Should strive the best to arm and guard. 
The soldiers sought the castle then, 

The sailors hastened to their boat, 
Rowed to their ship, and back again 
With such a load of arms and men 

The pinnace scarce could float. 
Berehaven craft, strong built and wide. 
Came clustering round the vessel's side. 
And loaded duep with precious freights 
Of larger bulks and greater weights ; 
Huge chests of powder, long black guns. 
Large balls in heaps of many tons, 
Casks of the flesh of Spanish kine. 
And sacks of corn and butts of wine. 
The castle vaults soon held the stores. 
They touched the roofs and jammed the doors : 
The gtins were mounted on the walls. 
The merry soldiers filled the halls. 
And through thin slits and windows strong 
Came many a snatch of foreign song. 
The ship's appointed work was done, 

She spread her white wings to the wind, 
From her high deck a farewell gun 

Sung out to those she left behind. 
Aroimd the castle soon a crowd 

Of gallant sons of Spain appeared. 


They waved tlieir hats and shouted loud, 
Wliile back from yard and stay and shroud 

The hardy seamen cheered ! 
First for the holy Faith, and then, 

The best of Kings, the King of Spain, 
Then good old Ireland and the men 

He sent them to sustain ! 
The good ship glided fast away 

Before a freshening northern gale, 
Again she crossed the broad blue bay 

And headed for Kinsale. 

Some dreary winter weeks had past, 
The longest night its shade had cast 

O'er Ireland far and near — 
AVhen darker than that darkest night, 
A rumour of the distant fight 
Came like a wind whose breath Avas blight. 

Across the hills of Beare. 
An anxious crowd of young and old 

Thronged wildly round each panting scout. 
Ah, evil news is quickly told 

And thus they gasped it out : — 

24 DUKBoy. 

" Donal is hastening back again 

With shattered ranks from lost Kinsalc ! 
O'Donnell steers away for Spain, 

And northward speeds O'Neill ! 
O fatal night! O wofiil day! 
The Irish troops like sand gave way, 
And Ireland's cause is lost for aye ! " 

" Donal is hastening back to Beare", 

New comers cried, " from curst Kinsale ! 
Plague on the sleepy Spaniards there, 
Who would not watch, and did not hear 
That midnight battle raging near, 

And rising o'er the gale ! 
All, all went wrong ; some ^vretched man 
Forewarned the foe, betrayed the plan. 
O'Donnell madly led the van, 

But led them on to fail ? 
A panic seized the Irish host. 
They broke, they fled, the day was lost — 
First of the ranks still firm and true, 
Were Donal's, Beara's, gallant few,* 

But what could they avail ! 
O fatal night ! O woful day ! 
'Twas long foretold, the wise men say,' 
'Twas toil and blood thrown all away ! " 

But later comers brought the news, 
With sharper lines and darker hues, 


And added points of woe — 
"O day", they cried, "of shame and grief! 
Don Juan — curse the coward chief! — 
Whom Philip sent to our relief, 

Has truckled to the foe, 
Has hauled the Spanish colours down, 
And rendered, not alone the to^vn 
He proudly promised to maintain 
' For Christ and for the King of Spain', 
But every rood of land we gave 
His dainty troops to guard and save ; 
Finin O'Driscoll's castles strong 
Of Donneshed and Dim-na-long, 
Donogh O'Driscoll's castle too, 
By Castlehaven's waters blue ; 
All these the crafty wretch, Carew, 

Will hasten to destroy — 
And then, the craven, last and worst, 
Agreed to yield our foes accurst 

Our castle ! our Dunboy ! 
fatal night ! O woful day ! 
Our castle tricked and signed away ! 
Our good cause lost, and lost for aye ! " 

What grief, of all the griefs of men, 

Can rend the heart, can crash the brain. 

Like his — the patriot soldier — when 
His country's fight is fought in vain ; 



When dazzling hopes in gloom are quenched ; 

"\\'hcn freedom, right, and old renovTi 
On native fields, with good Wood drenched, 

Beneath the invader's feet go down ; 
Wlieii crime in gay success can bask, 

A\'hen virtue's meeds are woe and blight, 
And tortured hearts ynh almost ask. 

Lives there a God of truth and right ? 
^V^lat nobler soul to man is given 

Than his who holds, through storm and ill, 
A changeless trust in righteous Heaven, 

A patriot love that nought can chili ? 
Such grief and love, so firm a faith. 

Was Donal's Avhen he took his way 
Back from Kinsale's red fields of death, 

And sought his home by Bantry Bay ; 
Not shelter 'midst those hills to seek, 

Till past the storm of war had blown, 
And then in pleadings low and meek 

Ask mercy of the English throne ; 
But on the rugged heights of Beare 
In arms for freedom yet to stand, 
And hold, though crushed the strife elsewhere. 
One fortress safe for freedom there, 
One flag erect in all the land ! 

Again O'SulIivan drew nigh 

The home he left in hope and pride ; 

Soon as its broad Hag met his eye. 
He called his trustiest chiefs aside — 


Brave Tyrrell, leader of a band 

Who ever sought war's wildest work, 
Donal Mac Cartliy, strong of hand, 

With wise and valiant William Burke ; 
The Lord of Lixnaw and his men. 

Who from the glades of Kerry came, 
O'Connor, and the Knight of Glyn, 

With other chiefs of lesser name ; 
Upon the rough hill's side they sate. 

And talk'd their country's rise or fall, 
TUl summing up their calm debate, 

Prince Donal spoke the minds of all : — 

" We must win back Dunboy from those 

Who mean to yield it to our foes, 

By force or wUe, by night surprise, 

Or storm beneath the noon-day skies. 

A chosen force we then must send 

Our mountain passes to defend, 

Glengariffe first and best of all, 

For there a band, though weak and small, 

May check an army on its way, 

And hold ten times their force at bav. 

But lest our safeguards all .shotild fail, 

And Saxon might awhile prevail, 

Lest troops should force Glengariffe through 

And Beara see the cursed crew, 

And, though 'tis hard to even suppose 

Dunboy a home for Ireland's foes, 


Yet, lest even that bufal, 'tis meet 
We now mark out a last retreat. 

The Dursy island rises high 

And bluff from out the angry tide ; 

Fierce currents sweep for ever by, 

A stranger force will scarcely try 
To land on either side ; 

We'll send a few brave men to keep 

The forts upon its summit steep ; 

Of arms and food a plenteous store, 

Drawn from Dunboy, we'll send before : 

Then should the worst befal us here. 

We'll take our stand unyielding there". 

On hastened Donal to demand 
The trust he gave, liis house and land ; 
But peaceful summons, threats or calls, 
Brought not the Spaniards from liis halls ; 
To each command the men replied 

They knew the terms their chief had made 
With Lord Carew, and would abide 

By every word he signed and said. 
Thus bearded at liis very gate, 

Donal his angry troops withdrew, 
But had not long to watch and wait, 
Wlien fell a night as dark as fate. 

And wild the west wind blew ; 
He brought his men with noiseless pace 
Before the castle's eastern face. 


Huge stones they picked and pulled away, 
And towards the da^vning of the day 

They burst their passage through ! 
Up screaming leaped the startled guard, 
Down rushed and tumbled all the ward — 
Bright swords gleamed out and miiskets snapped. 
Hard steel on steel opposing slapped, 

But Donal rushed to view. 
My men, he cried, put up your swords ! 
You Spaniards too, obey my words ! 
No enemies or traitors we, 
Your king shall answer if we be, 

And speak for what we do — 
We stand for Spain and Ireland still, 
And only cross Don Juan's will. 

The tool of vile Carew ! 
Behold my three best men are laid 
In gasps of death from ball or blade, 
Upon the bloody floor, and yet 
I will not have my soldiers wet 

A single spear-point in your veins — 
But, raise another hostile hand, 
By Heaven ! my men, who waiting stand 
Without the walls, shall hack and slay 
Till of your numbers here to-day 

No living man remains ! " 

Good Father Archer, often tried 

In scenes as Avild, stepped forth and cried : — 

30 DL'NDOT. 

" Lay down your arms, ye men of Spain ! 
Brave troops in hundreds wait outside, 

And further strife is vain ! 
Know, too, your good and faithful king 

Will not approve Don Juan's course ; 
Soon other ships on rapid wing 
Another captain here shall bring. 

To lead another force ; 
Lay down your arms ; who strikes again 
Is foe to Ireland, Rome, and Spain ! 

They flung their weapons on the floor : 

Then Donal said : " A pinnace fleet 
Even now is waiting by the shore ; 
Let those who wish to aid no more 

Our Irish cause, but long to meet 
Their fickle chieftain, step on board. 
I pledge upon my trusty sword, 

A promise never known to fail, 
My men shall bear them safely on, 
And ere another day be gone 

Shall land them at Kinsalc ! 

They paused a moment to decide, 

Then onward marched towards the tide, 

Save one small group of gunners, who 

Would still remain to Donal true. 

The boat was manned, her sails were spread. 

Like a white sea-bird on she fled. 


The Prince looked on till from his sight 
She swept behind Beare island's height, 
Then Ughtly smiled, as if to say, 
One danger now had past away. 

-O'Sidhvan, if craven fear 

Could reach your heart, 'twas now the time 
To plead unto the Saxon's ear 

And call your patriot strife a crime ; 
For now is Munster swept to bring 

Together all that murderous band 
Who almost blot the green of spring 

In blood and ashes from the land, 
To crowd in one resistless mass 

The victor troops of many a field, 
And trample down like sun-dried grass 

The clans that yet refused to yield. 
Brave Donal, what shall save you when 

An army wraps your forces round — 
AU Ireland knows your valiant men 
Would face their foemen one to ten 

And clear the battle groimd ; 
But for each arm that wields to day 

A blade for Erin and for you, 
A hundred in the tyrant's pay 

Are stretched to conquer and subdue ; 


And not alone the sword is bared 

And cannon crammed to reach your heart,— 
No plot is spumed, no bribe is spared, 

No dark device of traitor art.* 
But you have matched their might ere now 

And lulled their wiles ; this new demand 
On brain and heart but lights your brow 

And adds new vigour to your hand. 
Not even a sliudder sliakcs your frame, 

Though boding thought at times must show 
Your princedom swept with sword and flame, 

Your clan o'erbome, your castle low ; 
Though o'er yoiu* kindly heart must fly 

Dark glooms of care for kith and kin, 
Yet those who meet that calm blue eye 

See only fixed resolve within. 
So may the brave man meet the strife, 

So calm the hero's soul may be. 
When home and freedom, lands and life, 

Are staked for God and Liberty. 

'Twas summer mom, the eastern skies 
Were rich in gold and crimson dyes. 
The sunshine, like a glorious rain, 
Streamed from the east and steeped the plain ; 



But Beara's circling mountains kept 

The bright flood frona the vale that slept 

Beneath their feet, until the sun 

Raised high the tide, and streams would 

From clefts and hollows in the hills 
Down to the vale like golden rills, 
Each moment finding leaks anew, 
That dazzling jets came shining through, 
Till meeting, mingling, spreading wide, 
The flood swept all the mountain side. 
And Beara, like a golden cup, 
With glorious light was brimming up ! 

That brilliant gush of morning light 
Showed Donal's men a hated sight. 
Close by the isle those dull black dots 

The last night's clouds too well concealed. 
Stood plainly forth, the direst blots 

That e'er the noonday sun revealed. 
A glance sufficed — a hundred hps 
Cried out : " The ships — the English ships !" 
Fast runners over hill and dale 
Bore on the brief but startling tale. 
" Ho I men", they said, " the strife is nigh ! 
The English ships at anchor lie 
Within our harbovir : hasten all 
Now with your Prince to stand or fall !" 

31. DUNBOV. 

Soon on Bcare isle the Saxons swamied, 

Close by the shore their camp they formed. 

No petty force for trivial fray, 

No fraction of an anny thoy, — 

Four thousand soldiers, trained and tried, 

They came to Bcara, well supplied 

"With anus and stores, commanded too 

By skillul chiefs and captains, who 

Had fought, and ^v^eckcd, and gathered spoil 

From Gal way down to Carrigfoyle. 

Days flitted by on rapid wing, 

"Wliile Lords Carew and Tbomond planned 
Their ways and means to safely bring 

Nigh to Dunboy their troops to land. 
A smaller island smiling lay 

So close beside the wished-for shore, 
An army there might choose the day. 

The hour, to take their passage o'er ; 
There would they move their force, and then 

Their finest wit and skill employ. 
To baffle and deceive the men 

AVlio watched and guarded rovmd Dunboy, 
Then on a sudden push across 

To some defenceless point, and there 
Leap out and gain with little loss 

A footing on the soil of Beare. 

But first Carew was fain to try 
A plan that served him oft before. 


Some proffered bribe, lie said, might buy 

A warder from the castle door, 
That marksman from the castle wall 

WTiose aim and gun were Beara's boast, 
Some guard or scout, or best of all. 

The captain Donal trusted most. 
He whispered Thomond what to do : 

He bade him threaten, bribe, cajole, 
Sound him and spy him through and through, 

And strive to shake the rebel's soid, 
Thus from his fears, his greed or guile, 

With half the threatened cost obtain 
The end they'd marched so many a mile 

And toiled so long to gain. 

It was agreed, and Thomond penned 

An offer to the Prince of Beare. 
It said, " Your trustiest chieftain send 

To hold an hour of parley here ; 
The spot where he and I shall stand 

The castle and the camp shall see ; 
Some distance off on either hand 

A force shall wait for him and me ; 
But, howsoe'er we may decide, 

For war or peace, our parley o'er, 
Unharmed your man shall cross the tide 

And reach Dunboy once more". 

So be it, Donal said, and soon 
Upon a well selected space, 



Beneath the glowing sky of June, 

The chosen chiefs stood face to face. 
One was a man of middle size, 

His port was firm, his glance was keen'; 
But what the wrinkles near his eyes 

And hnes around his mouth miglit mean, 
The gazer failed awhile to know, 

Till at some turn, some word he spake. 
The guile that filled his heart would show, 

His lips would hiss, his eyes would take 
The serpent's cold and deadly glare. 

And every glint and glisten told 
He might be foiled, but would not spare 

The victim once within his fold. 
Such was the Earl of Thomond, who 
Sprung from the line of great Boru, 
Yet, shameless, pUed a traitor's sword 
To aid a viler foreign horde 
Than that whose power the monarch l)roke 
And bowed beneath the Irish yoke. 

The other was a larger form, 

A finer mould, with ease and grace 
In his strong limbs ; much sun and storm 

Had deeply browned his manly face ; 
Yet boyhood's smile would curve his lips 

And light his eyes, till thought or care 
Would sudden come, and half eclipse 

Or dim the cheerful glories there. 


Then stooped his eyebrows till they met 

Above the orbs they nearly hid, 
And looked one level line of jet 

Beneath the stately pyramid 
Of his great forehead. But again 

The clouds passed oiF; his heart would huid 
Its grief aside, or hide its pain, 

The long black line would break and curl 
Again above his calm brown eyes, 

And face and form alike would show 
He was a wai'rior, bold, but wise, 
' A faithful friend, a gallant foe : 
So stood the Prince's chosen man. 
His best loved chief, Mac Geohagan. 

First Thomond spoke. " Well pleased am I", 

He said, " to meet you, chieftain, here. 
Behold, a mighty force is nigh. 
And yet we pause and calmly try 

To save the haughty Prince of Beare. 
Tell him we offer lands and life. 

Perhaps a title from the queen, 
If he but cease this foolish strife, 

Adopt her creed, nor longer lean 
For succour on the Kmg of Spain, 
Or Rome's proud priest, whose aid is vain". 

Calmly replied Mac Geohagan : 

"Methinks, sir earl, his house and lands 


,18 DrN'HOY. 

He holds with all his gallant clan. 

His life? 'tis in his Maker's hands! 
A title? Well, he boasts of tw'(.>— 

The Prince of Beare is siu-ely one, 
The other — not a strange or now, 
But old and famous, good and true. 
No monarch's gift ; its glory grew 
From noble deeds : All Ireland through 

Who knows not The O'Sullivan ? 
Proud titles flow from England's throne : 
My chief is happy with his own". 

"It pales, it fades, even while you speak", 

The earl replied. "You sure must know, 
That month by month, aye, week by week. 

Such titles disappear, like snow 

From trampled highways ; where we go 
Such tenures fail, are cloven through 

By keen-edged SAVords, are reft and burned 
Where'er our banners flout the blue, 

AVhere'er our cannons' mouths are turned. 
I too could summon for the fight 

A force like yours ; I too could send 
Br^ve clans to break on England's might, 

But whose the profit in the end ? 
Instead, I save my home, my land, 

^ly wealth, my title, from the whii-1 
That gulps you dowTi, and here I stand 
No hapless outlaw, watched and banned. 

But a high captain and an earl ! 


So may your master also be. 
Go bid him from Carew and me 

Surrender " 

" No", tlie chief replied : 

If this be all, our task is done ; 
Let further sjseech from either side 

Be spoken out from gun to gun. 
The Prince of Beare rejects your bribes, 

Defies your queen, contemns her creed, 
Heeds not your threats, flings back your gibes, 

And dares you now from word to deed !" 

" Stay !" said the earl, " one moment stay : 

I now would speak a word with you. 
Say will you waste your life away 

Amongst this doomed and desperate crew ? — 
A brave young chieftain, formed to grace 

Gay scenes, and there the gayest shine — 
Why hide within this lonely place, 

Between those mountains and the brine ? 
Say will you join even now with us. 

And win the court's, the Queen's applause, 
Or nameless die, maintaining thus 

A failing creed, a ruined cause ?" 

Mac Geohagan moved back a pace. 

His broad chest heaved, his head rose higher, 
Quick shadows flitted o'er his face. 

His eye balls gleamed like yellow fire : 

40 nrNnoy. 

liut soon the rising fury died 

Within his heart ; a sad half smile 
Played round his lips as he replied : 

"I did forget a little while 
The words, sir earl, were said by you : 

They hissed indeed upon my ear ; 
But when I ventured here, I knew 

The words I might expect to hear ; 
I therefore will not now complain 

Of honour wronged, Ijut only say, 
You try your subtle art in vain 

To wile my poor support away. 
I know the peril ; I have lost 

Ancestral lauds and castles fair ;' 
I've paid down all the strife can cost 

Except my life, and that I dare 
From day to day for Ireland's sake ; 

1 choose again the patriot's part, 
And freely bid my country take 

The last red Ufe-drop from my heart". 

" We part", said Thomond, " soon to meet 
Amid the battle's dust and heat, 
Or in the captured castle, where 
Your after thoughts we yet may hear". 

"The castle? No", the chief returned. 
While like twin stars his dark eyes burned- 
" The castle ? Never. Mark me well, 
For time shall prove the truth I tell — 


No English troops shall ever find 

A shelter from the rain or wind, — 

No English preacher ever raise 

A canting hymn in England's praise, — 

No English council ever prate 

The weal or Avoe of England's State, 

Nor Irish slave one hour enjoy. 

Beneath the roof of proud Dunboy". 

Unto his boat the chieftain strode ; 
The earl retraced his mountain road. 
Arid to his anxious master told 
How spoke the rebel, proud and bold. 
" Wliat ! shghted thus", Carew out cried, 
" My threats contemned, my force defied ! 
Thinks he his small half-armed pack 
ShaU chase my valiant regiments back ? 
His clan forsooth ! some dozen score 
Of paltry rogues. Good earl, no more. 
Call in the boats, ship all the men. 
Cross o'er to Deenish isle, and then 
At dawning of some cloudy day, 
Quick to the main-land make your way. 
Soon from that time 'twill plain be seen 
Who rules — the rebel, or the Queen". 

To Deenish isle the transports bore 
The reg'ments and their warlike store. 
From thence the mainland's crookdd coast 
Was distant half a mile at most 



At points from whence the castle lay 
Three miles of rugged ground away. 
Agiiin the boats moved from the isle, 
Disguised their plan a little while, 
Then steered to the appointed strand. 
And safely bore their freights to land. 

The clansmen hurried to oppose 
The wily movement of their foes ; 
But ere they swept one half way round. 
The troops were finn on Beara's ground. 
Still on they came ; drawn nigh at length 
Amazed they saw the Saxon's strength. 
The mighty mass of veteran troops 
In ordered lines and busy groups. 
The huge guns dotted o'er the green, 
Tlie heaps of smaller arms between, 
Tlie posts and works of Avicker made 
"NYliile on the larger isle they stayed. 
And all that showed a force prepared 
For all an array ever dared. 
Dark looked the fortunes of the few 
Who stood by Donal firm and true, 
And witnessed in that gloomy hour 
Tliat dread array of England's power. 
" Yet", shouted Tyrrell, " though we see 
Those odds are fearful, shall it be 
That those vile churls, this crew accurst, 
Shall pass this night, and this their first, 


On Beara's soil, and never feel 
One vengeful point of Irish steel ? 
No, comrades no, ere set of sun, 
Their yelloAv Saxon blood shall run 
On the polluted soil, to show 
Dunboy's first welcome to her foe ! " 

On rushed the Irish Avith a shout 

That rang through all the hills around r 
The English Avheeled their ranks about 

And formed upon the rising ground. 
Eoud burst Avar's tumult on the gale, 

The cannons' sullen thunder rose, 
The muskets launched their leaden haJ 

Red hghtnings leapt amidst the foes, 
Bright swords and polished daggers shone^ 

Sharp skeans gleamed out and hid again, 
And crash and curse, and stab and groan, 

Mixed in one roar of rage and pain, 
Long lances, straight as sunbeams, tipped 

With ru.ddy points, jerked through the 
crowd ; 
Bright axes rose aAvhile, and dipped, 

And answering shrieks came high and loud. 

But the red sun set, and the battle's din 
Declined at length as the gloom fell in, 
For the gimner's aim was no longer true, 
And the pike-men scarce their foemen knew. 

I I nrxnoY. 

Anon a crash — 

A sudden stroke 
A Imsh — a flash ! 

And tlie eclioes woke 
ThroTigh the circling hills as a cannon spoke! 
Then a grapple and a clink of steel, and a hard 

and hurried breath, 
And an under groAvl of triumpli, and a heavy 
groan of death. 

Still the darkness fell, and the fearless few 
Who had braved a host, in tlie gloom withdrew • 
But all night long from the blood-stained vale 
Came the challenge stern, and the fitRd wail. 
And a busy hum on the eastern gale. 

" A\niat mean those songs and sounds of joy 

That burst to-night from doomed Dunboy ?" 

The tired and Avounded heroes cried, 

As the castle gates were opened wide. 

Surprised they saw within the hall 

The ward assembled one and all, 

The range of torches flaring red, 

The cheer upon the tables spread, 

The harper striking out his strains, 

As if his strinjrs were Ireland's chains — 


" What news is here ?" -with one loud voice 

They asked, " that jou can thus rejoice 

AYhile tread the Saxons on your shores, 

Nay while they threat your very doors ?" 

" Good news ", they answered ; " news to cheer 

The hearts of all assembled here. 

And all beside, Avho wish to see 

The Saxon crushed, our country free. 

But ere we speak it, let us know 

How fared your onslaught on the foe " ? 

" We scarce can tell ", the men replied ; 
" But when our force they first espied, 
Their cannon opened on our way 
Wliile not a gun had we to play 
Upon their ranks ; yet on we rushed, 
Into their midst our Avay we pushed, 
And only ceased the unequal fight 
When fell the darkling shades of night. 
Behold the wounds we bear, and say 
If lightly passed that sudden fray. 
Or bid your Avardens count and tell 
Out of the fcAv how many fell. — 
But no — before a thought you turn 

On us — before a wound is drest, 
Howe'er our flesh may pant and biu-n, 

First set our anxious minds at rest. — 
Again we ask, what news of joy 
What cheer, what hope for old Dunboy ?" 



"Ghid news", they answered: "more than hope, 

True aid, and pnjofs of love and care 
From good King Philip and the Pope, 

Have reached our shores, are waiting near. 
Within Kenniare's wood-bordered bay 
Before our castle of Ardea 

A Spanish vessel rests her keel. 
By holy men her deck is trod, 
Owen ilac Egan, blest of God, 

And faithful friar'Neale ;'*• 
They come to ask our fortunes here. 
To bid us boldly persevere 

For further aid -will soon come o'er : 
A force of fourteen thousand men 
Was gathering for our service when 

They left the Spanish shore ! 
Even now they bring to our relief 
Large sums in gold to every chief 

Who fights by gallant Donal's side. 
They've, brought us too across the brine 
A store of gladdening, glorious wine, 

As ever Spain supplied ! 
They've brought us something to bestow 
Upon our graceless Saxon foe. 

Though these the gift may welcome not,— 
Some casks of powder good and strong. 
To send into the ruffian throng. 

Some piles of iron shot ! 
Long may the good King Philip reign ! 
The glorious King of happy Spain, 

DUNBOY. 4 i 

And Ireland's friend — Hurra ! Hui'ra !" 
The words were echoed round about 
The wounded men stood up to shout 

And ten times o'er to say — 
" The Kmg of Spain, the glorious King ! 
May Heaven prolong his life, and bring 

His heart new gladness day by day, 
May glory and renown attend 
The arts and arms of Ii'eland's friend, 

The King of Spain — Hurra !" 

But when the gladsome shouts were o'er, 
And converse might be held once more, 
The wisest chieftains in the hall 
Round Donal grouped, and said : 

" We all 
"Would urge you. Prince, that ere the morn 
From out the bright'ning east is born 
You reach Ardea, and promptly tell 
Our Avorthy friends we greet them well. 
Good Bishop Egan waits you there 
His plans to shape, his gold to share. 
King Philip bids him thus to do, 
For much he trusts and hopes in you. 
We'll guard Dunboy ; though good your blade, 
'Tis yours to bring us better aid ; 
Go wait the force that noAV must be 
Fast speeding o'er the southern sea, 
And bid them welcome when they stand 
Arrayed upon our Irish strand ; 

•IH DUNnoY. 

Then as upon some wintry tlay 

The rain-swellerl river sweeps away 

Tlie matted drift tlie stream liad tried 

In vain to break or turn aside, 

So rush you down the hills, and sweep 

This Saxon rack into the deep. 

Till then be ours the fiery task, 

Though small may seem the force we ask, 

One hundred men and forty-four 

Our strength shall be, — we'll keep no more,- 

But these, a brave and skilful few, 

Shall do as much as men can do : 

There's not a loop-hole in the wall 

That shall not poiu: a rain of ball : 

There's not an angle, nook, or joint. 

From Avhich some barrel, blade, or point, 

Shall not project, to lay the foe 

Who dares to venture near it, low". 

" Good friends", said Donal : " I depart. 

May Heaven protect each gallant heart 

That beats before me here to-night. 

And dares this Saxon horde to fight ! 

Mac Geohagan ! your hand — your hand : 

My honoured fciend, the chief command 

I leave to you till my return, 

And well I know you'll bravely earn 

From Donal thanks, from Ireland fame, 

A patriot's meed, a hero's name. 

Good soldiers all, and clansmen true 

A brief, and l)iit a l>rief, adieu!" 


He said, and mounted on his steed 

And dashed away at rapid speed; 

Till at Knockoiu'a's base again 

He leaped to earth, he drew the rein 

Around his arm, then quickly went 

With light steps up the steep ascent. 

But ere he made a single stride 

Adown the mountain's fiirther side. 

He turned him round, and paused awhile 

To see his Beara's morning smile. 

The sun had risen, but dull clouds came 
To bask before his face of flame. 
And on the hills, still tinged with blue, 
Broad stains of darker shadow threw. 
The bay was dimmed with misty shade, 
Like damp upon a polished blade ; 
And o'er the villaged valleys hung 
The gloom the passing night had flung. 
But soon the strong sun rent away 
Those tangling clouds of fleecy gray. 
Set the slow drifting shreds on fire, 
Chmbed the blue air-fields high and higher, 
And like a victor glad and free 
Looked proudly down on land and sea. 
A glory o'er the landscape spread. 
The mist cleared ofiT, the shadows fled, 
Gay colours gladdened all the ground, 
Out started hill and slope and mound, 

50 DUNBor. 

And Imt and hall, unseen before, 
Now sparkled on tlie further shore. 
As when an artist clears away 
The gathered dust of many a day 
From some old painting : sudden smiles 
Some bright lake freck'd with golden isles, 
Soft foliage gleams, the river foams. 
Smooth fields spread out by sunny homes, 
And in the foreground, sharp and clear, 
Bright figures, men and maids, appear. 
So looked the scene to Donal's sight 
In that sweet gush of morning light. 

Before him, framing in the bay, 
A long brown rib of mountain lay ; 
Beyond again, a glittering spike 
Of bright blue ocean, dagger-like, 
Stretched far inland, and sea and sky 
Were all beyond that met the eye. 
That rough land nursed a race as stem, 
Nursed boatmen bold and hardy kern. 
And dauntless chieftains who woidd be 
At home alike on land or sea. 
But flowers of grace and beauty grew 
Within its sheltered valleys too. 
The wild rose of his heart had there 
Spnmg up and sweetened all the air : 
With tender hands, with glistening eyes, 
lie gathered up the glorious prize, 


And filled with love, with hope and joy, 
He bore it to his own Dtmboy ! 
Dunboy ! He stroked his wrinkling brow 
As thought contrasted then and now. 
He sate him down a moment's space, 
Within his hands he hid his face, 
Then from the chambers of his brain 
The grand old times trooped forth again, 
And memory showed the happy day 
He brought his Eileen o'er the bay. 

Again from fleets of bannered boats 
Sweet laughter rings, gay music floats. 
Soft plashings of unnumbered oars, 
Glad welcomes from the peopled shores, 
Fond wishes, blessings, earnest prayers, 
In one rich chorus, fill his ears. 
And stir his heart ; but sweeter still, 
A deeper touch, a finer thrill, 
The loved face blushing by his side 
Reflects his looks of joy and pride ! 

They reach the shore ; he leaps to land, 
He takes his Eileen by the hand — 
A storm, a storm of wild dehght — 
A whirl of blades and banners bright — 
Faint gasps of music, well nigh drowned — 
Within the sea of rougher soimd — 
Gay peasants dancing on the green — 
Good cheer spread out the trees between— 

52 DfNBOY. 

Peace, plenty, mirth 

Rut, God! that roar 
Tliat sliakes the liills! His dream is o'er. 

lie started up, a glance he flung 

Upon the real scene below 
A blue smoke round the turret hung 

Whence sped that death-bolt towards the foo, 
And nigh the castle he could see 

Tlie Saxon soldiers dotted roiuid 
In little knots of two and three 

To view the walls and mark the ground 
For future conflict. 

" Be it so". 
The hero said. " Full well I know 
That did I choose to live a slave 

With bended neck and supple knees, 
Even now one word of mine would save 
My honoured home, my people brave. 

From foes and dangers such as these. 
And she, my fond and gentle wife, 

"Wlio shelters in GlengarifFe now. 
Might spend a tranquil, happy life, 
Without one thought of bloody strife 

To cloud her sunny brow. 
What — happy, said I ? Eileen dear, 

I did her wrong, but meant it not : 
I know my love would mildly bear 
The inward grief; would fondly share 

Ibr Uonal's gloomy lot, 


But liappy ? no, she coiild not be. 

Her brave good heart, though sorely tried, 
Prefers to share those risks with me. 
Accepts those toils unflinchingly, 
Proud in her darkest hour to be 

A patriot's worthy bride! 
Then be the issue what it may, 
Upon this mountain top to-day, 

Beneath this arch of glittering blue, 
By all on Earth my heart holds dear, 
And all my hopes of Heaven, I swear 

To fight this struggle through! 
Aye, to the last, though lost it be 
Aye, while in all the isle I see 
One shred of our good flag floating free 

With one hundred men beneath it, 
I'll still be first m the holy toil 
Our foes to slay, their plans to foil, 
And my bones shall bleach on my native soil 

Or mine be the last sword sheathed. 
Farewell, Dunboy". 

And he paced away. 
But Avould frequent pause, and would musing say : 

" Yes, fearless hearts, as I ever found them — 
One hundred men and forty-four 
In those narrow halls — not a mortal more — '^ 

Four thousand foemen round them ! 


Another scene of mirth and light 

Is all within Dunboy to-ni^'ht. 

The watches still are kept with cad:e. 

But feast and song are everywhere. 

Beside the breeches of their guns 

Sit groups of Beara's hardy sons, 

And tell their deeds of war once more^ 

Or talk to-morrow's battle o'er. 

The great hall like a casket shines, 

The walls seem decked from diamond mines, 

For burnished weapons catch the blaze, 

And glint aside the glistening rays* 

The oaken panels smooth and old 

Flash in the light like sheets of gold, 

And every carved point and curl 

Seems silver streaked, or tipped ^vith pearl ! 

Full oft before, that hall had been 

A brilliant and a merry scene. 

With yet a chann, an added light, 

A sweetness Avanted here to-night ; 

For then did Eileen with her lord 

Make glad the room and head the board ; 

And Munster's lirightest beauties were 

From its best houses gathered there. 

Daughters of fierce and haughty sires, 

Yet gentle maids, aU smiles and sighs, 
With nought that showed their fathers' fires^ 

Save those bright sparkles in their eyes. 


And nought to hint, in all. their charms, 
The strength within their brothers'^ arms. 
Gone are those forms of light and grace 
That oft had cheered the happy place, 
But, like some building once o'ergrown 

With flowers that twined its columns 
That stripped and bared into the stone. 

Is still a stately beauty found, 
So looked the scene that evening, when 
The hall was thronged -with stalwart men ; 
Wlien every arm could deal a blow 
To lay the stoutest foeman low ; 
Wlien every eye that sparkled there 
Could range the gun or point the spear, 
And every warrior, not alone 

For Ireland's cause could gladly die, 
But first could lay beneath his own 

A foeman's corse whereon to lie. 

" Come", said Mac Geohagan the brave, 

" Come, chieftains, friends, and comrades 
We've had our councils calm and grave. 

Let's have our merry meeting too ! 
We know, when morning lights the land, 

Our foes, now well-prepared, "will ope 
Their guns from yonder rounded strand, 

Their battery from the mountain slope f^ 

5fi DUNBOr. 

And wc, from out these good old walls, 

Shall send tliem hot and cjuick replies. 
But ere the voice of battle calls 

Come, let the laugh and song arise ! 
/ will be merry: — there has lain 

A grief within me, night and day, 
For Aveary years, a ceaseless pain 

No himian art could charm away : — 
To-night — 'tis strange — those sorrows turn 

To some ncAV feeling like delight, 
And dull cold shades that wrapt me, bum, 

Like sun clouds on the mountain height. 
It is to-morrow's deadly strife 

That lliiigs its ruddy rjiys before, 
That warms the chilly stream of life, 

And stii-s my heart with hope once morc,- 
"With hope ? — yes, hope I name it still — 

But, chieftains bold, my speech is long, 
Come, Con O'Daly, prove your skill, 

Come, strike the harp ! — a song, a song ! 

Hurra, Hurra, 

Mac Geohagan 
Our noble chief" 

Cried every man 
" Our Captain good and true !" 

Upon the wall the bright arms shivered 
As tables, roof, and flooring cpuvered, 


The flags around the room depending 
Stirred in the storm of sound ascending, 
The clansmen filled their goblets flowing 
And set the shout once more agoing — 

" Hurra, Hurra, 

Mac Geohagan, 
The trusted chief 

Of Donal's clan, 
Mac Geohagan abu !" 

Before the din had died away 

The prelude of O'Daly's lay 

Came on the ear in silvery tinklings, 

Strong wild gtists, and starry sprinklings, 

Growing louder, fuller, clearer. 

As down sat cheerer after cheerer, 

'Till amidst the listening throng 

Every voice to silence hushed, 
Thus his new-made time and song 

Like a rain-swelled river rushed. 

The foemen are rpund us to-day. 

The Saxons are round us to-day, 
With their merciless bands 
Come to ravage our lands, 

To plunder, to biirn, and to slay ! 
Let us rise in our might, 
Let us rush to the fight. 



Ami crush them or chase tlicm away — 

Hurra ! 
Let us crush tliean or chase them away ! 


Tliey come like the wolf on his prey 

To day, 
To rend and to tear — if they may : 

They shall break like the shock 

Of the waves on the rock 
That is moveless abroad in the bay ! 

Even so the thin flood 

Of their Sassanach blood 
Shall be spirted and washed into spray, 

Hurra ! 
Round the brave men of Beara to-day. 


We are one to their twenty, they say. 

To-day ; 
We are one against twenty, they say 

But to count man for man 

Of O'Sullivan's clan 
With their clouts, is to count them in play ! 

They shall soon know our worth 

When our men sally forth 
Like lightnings unloosed, to the fray, 

Hurra ! 
To cleave them or chase them away ! 


The men applauded loud and long, 
They praised the music and the song, 

" "Well done ! well done " ! they cried ; 
" O'Daly, could we only do 
Our parts as yours is done by you, 
We'd soon mow down this English crew, 

And sweep them to the tide ! 
Ha-ha! ha-ha! — well done, old Con, 
No fire from out your veins is gone, 

Although your head be white as snow ; 
Your blood is hot, your ear is fine, 
Your toiich upon the silver twine 
Is clear and fresh, and sounds divine 

Like sweet wild winds around you blow. 
Till passion-stirred. 
Such storms are heard. 

As that which burst awhile ago". 

" Well done O'Daly, right well done — 
My instrument — a six-feet gun. 

Shall sound its notes to-morrow morn", 
Said tall Hugh Eoe, who loved a fight 
And liked a joke ; a merry wight 
With thick red beard and eyes of light. 

And voice that rung like hunting horn. 

" Come", said the revellers, " merry Hugh, 
Let's have your own old song from you : 
We've heard it twenty tunes before — 
You'll sing it oft, we trust, again 

<'0 nrxnoY. 

To laughing maids and merry men, 
But, lest we may not hear it then, 
Give us the rhyme once more". 
Loud laughed tall Hugh, and then he swuni. 
His head in time, while thus he sung : — 

My name is Hugh Roe, 

And not long, you must know. 

Had my friends seen my presence exciting. 
When my spirit broke out. 
And I proved beyond doubt, 

I was born with a fancy for fighting. 


From nurse-maids to men 
Have I battled since then : 

All over the isle I've been ranjrinff : 
And strifes that were tough 
And furious enough. 

Have I shared, but my taste is unchanging. 


It is only the right 
I espouse in the fight, 

I aid no ill cause whatsoever ; 
But there's plenty of wrong 
In this world, on my song, 

To keep a man figlitiug for ever. 



And who needs to ask 
For a warrior's task, 

Whose heart has one throb for his sh'e-land, 
While Sassanach clowns 
Waste the fields and the to\\Tis, 

And strive to be masters of Ireland ! 


For a soldier like me, 
Wliat the ending must be, 

I know as if clearly foresho-ttTi it ; 
When that ending comes round, 
I'll not grieve, I'll be bound. 

And I'll ask no one else to bemoan it. 


But I hope that my name 
In our annals of fame 

Will be set in a small piece of writing,'' 
Saying " Then, and just so. 
Fell the gallant Hugh Roe, 

Wlao was born with a fancy for fighting". 

" Well done, Hugh ! right weU sung, Hugh !" 
The room re-echoed through and through. 
" His words are ti'uth", one clansman cried ; 
" His foes would own it", one replied ; 


C2 nrN'nov. 

" I've seen him in the deadly strife 

With every l)low blot out a life ; 

I've heard the crash of cloven bones, 

I've heard the growl of heart-wrung groans, 

Go with him as he cleaved his way 

Right through the thickest of the fray". 

" No wonder", one remarked ; " but few 
Can boast of arms like those of Hugh. 
I've seen their strength one evening, when 
He played with Carbery's hardiest men : 
Each tried in vain to lift a block 
Of stone from oflf a neighbouring rock : 
He raised it ^^^th a qviiet grace 
Up to his knees, his hips, his face, 
Then flung it off so far away 
That some around were heard to say 
'Twould take a right good powder blast 
To give it such another cast". 

" And I", another said, " have seen 
Him snap an ash limb tough and green 
Between his hands with seeming ease, 
Which others strained across their knees 
And could not break. But see his wrist, 
The breadth across his rugged fist^ 
Why let him take into his own 
An arm of average flesh and bone, — 
He'd turn it like a woollen twist I 


But hush ! no more of strong-limbed Hugh ; 
They ask a song of Demiod Dhu, 
Who loves, as all Berehaven knows, 

The prettiest maid in half the land, 
Yet comes to crush his country's foes 

Before he takes her snowy hand. 
Hush, hush, good friends, I would not choose, 
When he begins to sing, to lose 
A single soft, dehcious note, 
For nature in some curious start 
Gave Dermod, with a manly heart, 

A woman's dainty Hps and throat". 
So spoke the men themselves among 
'Till Dermod thus sang out his song : — 

Beneath a mountain rough and hoary 

Lies a valley fair to view, 
A river, like an olden story. 

Softly Avinds and miu'mui's through. 
There she dwells, my Una dear, 
Una, dear as life to me, 
Una of the golden hair, 

White-necked Una 6g machree.* 
In that valley flowers are springing 

AU the rounding months along ; 
Birds upon the boughs are singing 
One unending happy song. 

• Anglice — White-necked young Una of my heart. 


Little may be my surprise — 
Una day by day they see, 
Una of the bright bkie eyes, 

Darling Una 6g raaehree. 


So my tlioughts are full of flowers, 
So my heart with song runs o'er, 
While I dream of happy hours, 
By that river's winding shore. 
Happy with my Una dear, 
Una dear as life to me, 
Una ever fond and fair, 

Bright-eyed Una 6g machree. 

^^^lo stalks like a spectre right into the hall. 
Why start up the chiefs and the revellers all ? 
Wlience comes he— with visage all pale, save 

those streaks 
Of red gaping wounds on his forehead and cheeks ? 
Whence comes he ? — he presses liis hand on his 

WTiere the folds of his clothing with crimson are 

His eyes for a moment are darkened with pain, 
And liis head droops aside, but he rallies again. 
They bear him along to a couch like a mound, 
Of brightest hued silks flung in heaps to the 



Soft cushions they push 'neath his shoulders and 

And they pour the red wine through his colour- 
less lips ; 

He motions his thanks with his hands and his eyes, 

And thus to their queries at length he rephes : — 

Two days ago, friends. 
Two days ago, 
In Dursey island 
We fought the foe. 

But forty men 
In the forts were we, 
They came a hundred 
And fifty-three. 

On oiir northmost fort 
First their fury fell ; 
We fought them long, 
And we fought them well ; 
Even they must own 
That we fought them well. 

But their guns were many, 
And ours were few ; 
And a stronger fort 
Was the south, we kncAV — 
To our southern fort 
Then our men withdrew. 

66 DUNBor. 

And again wc fought them, 
Both long and well : 
That the fight was fierce 
Even they must tell ; 
For fast their soldiers 
Before us fell. 

Each man we lost 

Cost the Saxons two, 

But they could spare them— 

Their bloody crew 

"Were thrice our number — 

What could we do ? 

When further contest 

Was all in vain, 

"When our guns were broken, 

Our captains slain, 

And no help was near us 

On isle or main — 

Our men surrendered, 
And doing so 
Believed they dealt 
With a gallant foe.— 
How fared they after 
You soon shall know. 

Witliin their camp, 
Only yesterday, 




One after one 
Did they foully slay. 
Their blood yet clots 
On the yellow clay. 

They thought me dead, friends, 
They thought me dead. 
As I lay and moved 
Neither hands nor head. 
Though the friends I loved 
Were my gory bed. 

But when night fell dark 
And the sentries slept, 
O'er the cold wet grass 
From their camp I crept. 

And I made my way 
To the castle door. 
Good friends, I faint, 
I can speak no more. 

" Comrades !" Mac Geohagan exclaimed, 
While hke red fires his large eyes flamed- 
" Though sad our wounded brother's tale, 
Let no stout heart amongst you quaU ; 
For though we may not hence retire 
To Dursey's forts, noAV battered low, 


Yet couUl we cross the belt of fire 
That wraps us round, who would desire 

From our dear castle now to go ? 
And if oiir comrades brave are slain, 
If honour's, mercy's pleas were vain. 
Let this but urge us on again 

To smite so base, so false a foe !" 

" Aye", cried the soldiers, " let us feel 
The spirits of our friends are here. 

To nerve our hearts, to point our steel, 
To tell us how to strike and where ! 

Yes, let us deem the castle now 
Dunboy and Dursey both in one. 

And only think and labour how 

With axe and sword, with pike and gun, 
The double work may best be done" — 

" God save you, soldiers", said the priest 
As slow he strode into the room — 
" The stars die out, fast fades the gloom, 

And morn is blushmg in the east. 

" I told my beads the live-long night 
And watched as well as prayed for you, 
For well by certain signs 1 knew, 

That morn would bring tlie bloody fight. 

"Soon loud shall burst the battle note — 
I've seen them feed each levelled gim, 


CroAvd round the piece awhile, and run 
The ball into its iron throat. 

" To arms, good friends, ^\'ithout delay — 
Ha ! see that vivid, blinding flash ! 
Hark, hear that roar — that sudden crash ! 

And hear again, their loud huzza ! 

" Haste, soldiers, each unto his post — 

I wish you triumph, glory, fame, 

I bless you in the potent name 
Of Father, Son, and Holy Ghost !" 

The skies were red with morning light 

When the English guns commenced to play, 
From batteries, planted through the night. 

At seven score yards from the walls away. 
Thick dykes stood round the castle's base, 

Hurriedly raised since the Saxons came, 
But high on the biulding's western face 

Was the chosen point of the gunners' aim. 

One after one. 
Each massive gun 
Eoared, and anon 

Crashed all together — 

70 DlNboY. 

Echoed the sound 
Through the hills around 
Like a thunder peal in stormy weather ! 

Hour after hour, 
The iron shower 
Kained on the tower 

That groaned and rumbled— 
Ball after ball 
Eat through the wall, 
Till the tiuret tottered, slipped, and tumbled ! 

Down with a crash on the vault below ; 

Down was the castle's best gun hurried, 
In fell the vault with the mighty blow, 

And brave men deep in the wreck were buried. 

Then lower on the castle's side 

The English turned their cannon all ; 

Again the gray old pile was j)lied 
With a steady hail of racking ball — 

Gun after gun, 
Till hours had run, 
And the l)linding sun 

In the south was Hashing — 
The big stones split, 
As the bullets hit. 
And the splinters flew from the granite crashing ! 



Firm and tough 
Was the building stuff 
That torn, and rough, 
So long impended — 
A flash ! a roar ! 
One dull stroke more, 
And the whole field shook as the mass descended! 

Then loud the Saxons' shout arose, 

They waved their flags with frantic joy : 

" Hurra", they cried, " thus die our foes. 
Thus falls the famed Dunboy !" 

Forth from the ruined building came 
A soldier whose white flag would claim 
Exception from the gunner's aim. 

His peaceful errand bent to do. 
The Saxon camp he marched unto. 
And asked to speak with Lord CareAV. 

" Aye, let the rebel pass to me" 
The wily cliief said '• we shall see 
What may his comrades' thmkings be. 

" But when we've heard his story, then, 
Be yours the care, my trusty men, 
He never sees Dunboy again. 

Before him was tlie envoy led, 

His white Hag Jroo])ing oVr his head ; 

He gravely bowed, and thus he said : 

" My comrades send mo, Lord Carew, 

With peaceful offers unto you, 

As brave men iu their strait may do. 

" With yours compared, their force is small. 
Their guns are few ; wall after wall 
Before your stronger fire must fall. 

" Yet think they even they may say. 
For every man your force might slay 
Your army with a life would pay. 

" With hearts for either fortune steeled, 
They offer now in peace to yield 
The castle and the battle field, 

*' If, with their arms and colours, they 
Shall all be free to take their way 
Where'er they please, from lience to-day". 

" No" said Carew, " in sooth not so. 
We offered terms ere yet a Ijlow 
^^'as interchanged, some weeks ago. 

" You scorned them then, and by my vow, 
No peace, no truce shall we allow 
Howe'er you pray or parley now. 


" And mark I — we saw you hither press, 
And wave your sign of peacefuluess, 
Yet fired your guns no shot the less. 

" Your cannon flashed your flag to mock, 
Your balls came in Avith stroke and shock — 
Ho, Marshall ! bear him to the block !'"* 

The trumpets brayed ! the army stirred, 

And quick assumed the battle build, 
'V^Tiile summoned by that warning Avord 

The breach with Beara's soldiers filled. 
Full in the front stood tall Hugh Roe, 

Who smiled and cheered his gallant 
He swung his long sword to and fro 
And freed his elbows for the blow 
With which he meant to greet the foe 

That now were tramping near at hand. 
The trumpets sounded ! onward pressed 

The English ranks — a shout, a screech, 
Told when the men were breast to breast 

And grappled in the deadly breach ! 

Glaring in each other's faces, hissing in each 

other's ears, 
Searching for the mortal places where to plant 

their shining spears, 


1 4 nt'KnoT. 

Striking in uitli sudtlcn lunges, with tlic sword 
blade deftly sloped, 

Starting forth Avith forceful plunges when the 
ranks a moment ope'd ; 

Panting, straining, loud complaining, as the wells 
of life were found. 

And the bright red tide came raining quickly on 
the dusty mound, 

Grunting gladly, cheering madly, answering with 
a bitter yell, 

When some fierce hard -striking foeman caught 
the deadly woimd and fell ; 

Beaten backw ard for a moment, pressing on again 
in haste, 

All the crumbling dust beneath them trampling 
into bloody paste — 

So they fought the murderous combat, while the 
red-faced siin looked doA\Ti 

From between his crimson curtains on the land- 
scape ■with a froAvn, 

Deepening till the hills seemed risen freshly from 
some purple flood. 

And the tranquil sea below them looked a flow- 
ing bath of blood. 

Wounded thrice vnth musket bullets, scarred by 

keen and ready blades. 
Captain Kirton held the passage, caDing loud for 

English aids. 

DuxBor. 75 

Mewtas answered to the summons, rushing forward 

\nth a cheer, 
Hurling fresh and eager forces on the gallant 

men of Bearc ; 
WeU they met them ; added \-igor into every blow 

they flung, 
Quicker now their swords descended, deeper now 

their pike points stung ; 
To and fro throughout the battle ranged the brave 

Mac Geohagan, 
Cheering on liis gallant soldiers, watching well 
• his foemen's plan. 

Rushing when the need was greatest madly for- 
ward to the front, 
Often for a time sustaining all alone the battle's 

By the eddpng of the combat, circling, surging, 

one might know 
Where the tide was breaking wildly on that 

rugged rock, Hugh Eoe. 
Oft his blood-stained blade was lifted, but the 

eye could only see 
In the air a bright red circle, coming, going 

As one sees when playful children tA\-irl a fire- 

tipp'd stick at night, 
And the vision catches only one bright band of 

ruddy light. 
Strong limbed Hugh ! a score of foemen thought 

their might but matched in him. 

76 Dl-KBOY. 

And he seemed to take the honour witli a jiltasurc 

wild and grim, 
Earning well tlie high opinion as his vengeful 

blade he plied * 

And from out tlie group he wrought on, foemen 

staggered, dropped, and died. 

Still the bloody gap was holden ])y the castle's 

gallant few, 
Loud again the trumpets sounded for the troop 

of Lord Carew ; 
Fast into the breach they flooded, and before the 

gathered strength. 
Far outnumbered, thrice o'erpowcred, Beara's 

men gave way at length ; 
Slowly yielding 'twixt the biiildings raised around 

the castle's base, 
Inch by inch the ground disputing, till they 

reached a sheltered space 
Where the cannon of theu- foemen raked no more 

their little band. 
And the fight was closer, fiercer — man to man 

and hand to hand. 

Long within that narrow passage Avas the furious 

strife maintained, 
Hours of bloody toil passed over, not a step the 

Saxons gained ; 
Nought availed their greater numbers, in the 

narrow frontage there, 


Beara's stiu'dy men presented sword for sword 

and spear for spear. 
Quickly fell the foremost foemen ; pressed the 

forces closer yet, 
Wearing, grinding down each other at the edges 

where they met. 
Never paused the strife a moment, till a sharp 

and sudden cheer 
Made the tired and baffled Saxons look around 

and up with fear. 
High upon the ruined castle, standing on the 

broken wall, 
Armed with many a weighty missile, jagged stone 

and iron ball, 
Stood a range of Irish soldiers — soon into the 

narrow pass 
Flung they down their ponderous weapons on the 

solid Saxon mass. 
Crushing strongest men like stubble, beating gaps 

into the crowd. 
That like helpless things could only shiver, shriek, 

and howl aloud. 
On the castle's ragged outline, perched upon its 

highest part, 
Bold O'Moore'^ was seen to labour, striving hard 

with all his heart : 
Fragments from the wall he rooted, swung them 

upward to his teeth. 
Hissed and cast them fiercely from him on the 

groaning""ranks beneath, 


Shouting, singing, d:mcing wildly, as he saw the 

weighty stones 
Reach the earth and drive before tlieiu mangled 

flesh and shattered bones ; 
Still the patient Saxons suffered, hoping strong 

reliefs were near, 
For they knew their men were seeking entrance 

through the castle's rear. 
And ere long their hopes were answered ; fast 

their regiments hurried through, 
Sought and found the narrow passage held by 

Beara's fearless few. 
Gallant Hugh ! they hastened towards him, soon 

a dozen rays of steel 
In his manly heart were buried like the spokes 

within a wheel ; 
Up they rushed into the ruin — Ha, those soldiers 

on the wall — 
Never more shall these be flinging jagged stone 

or iron ball ; 
DowTi they dragged them, stabbed and clove 

them, saw their death wounds doubly sure, 
Turned to wreak their direst vengeance on their 

deadliest foe O'Moore, 
But he sprung from off the ruin ; ore he touched 

the bloody ground 
Saxon spears ran redly through him and a speedier 

death was found. 
Downward from the rooms they hastened, for 

despite the force below, 



Saw tliey sallying from the castle forty of the 

Irish foe, 
Hastening whither? where was shelter? short the 

space they had to flee, 
English troops were close beside them, straight 

before them spread the sea ; 
Caught between the closing regiments, soon the 

little band was crushed, 
But a few strong men escaping, thence into the 

water rushed ; 
Swam, with clinging clothes encumbered, boldly 
• for the island's shore, 
Though the point that jutted nearest, distant lay 

a mile or more ; 
Slowly o'er the waveless water glided on each 

rugged head, 
But the soimds of oars came to them ere one 

fourth their course was sped ; 
Fast came up the boats piu'suing, from each bow 

and o'er the side 
Saxon soldiers drove their lances through the 

swimmers in the tide ; 
One by one beneath the surface dipped the heads 

and disappeared. 
Loud the troops on shore applauded, loud the 

brutal boatmen cheered ; 
Scare a token of the slaughter in a minute more 

Save where'er the dull green water with a ruddy 
hue was stained, 



Save that plancinpr nliarply doM-nward, bloody 

stR-aks were seen to grow 
Like long strings of purple sea -weed branching 

from each corse below ; 
Save that when the boats returned, thin red linos 

of human gore 
Marked their sides with Avavy outlines, circled 

round each clumsy oar- 
Once again the captains ordered on a 

new assault, 
Ere the night to crush the clansmen still disputing 

hall and vault. 
Onward pressed the Saxon forces, hoarsely cheer- 
ing as they dashed 
Hard upon their desperate foemen while their 

helping cannon crashed : 
Never quailed the patriot soldiers; hideous now 

>nth dust and blood, 
Plying well their blunted weapons, strong in their 

despair they stood, 
Checking oft their swarming foemen — but despite 

of stop and stay, 
Still the crowding English regiments slowly, surely, 

won their way. 
Short the space they had to traverse, yet the time 

was told by hours 
Ere they planted on the ruin flags that waved 
like gaudy (lowers. 


Joyful leaped the English soldiers, burst a cheer 

from every throat, 
"When they saw their blood-stained banners o'er 

the hard won capture float. 
But their task not yet was ended ; in a moment 

more they found 
Their unpekling foes descended to the cellars 

Vainly did they strive to follow down those 

narrow stairs of stone. 
Every man who ventured forward tumbled inward 

with a groan ! 
Hold ! cried out the wearied captains to their 

tired and woimded men. 
Hold ! we rest till dawns the morning ; we shall 

rout the rebels then. 
Set a guard above the cellars, Avatch the place 

•sAath SAVord and fire, 
Let the force no longer needed to their cauA-as 

quick retire ! 

Spoke a voice from far below, 
" Saxon soldiers ! hsten ho ! 
Brave men fight, but ncA^er do 
Murder on a vanquished feAv : 
Here we yield, Ave end the strife, 
Claiming, asking, only life". 

" Irish rebels, beaten foe", 
Spoke the Adctors, " listen, ho I 


At our mercy simply yield, 
We are masters of the field.' 
In our hands we hold your fate 
Vainly now of terms you prate". 

Spoke the voices from below, 
" Never, never : well we know, 
Taught by black and bloody scenes, 
AVhat your Saxon mercy means. 
If our blood must glut your hate, 
Take it at a dearer rate". 

" Soldiers !" cried the Saxon captains, " watch 
the place through midnight's gloom: 

If they yield not ere the morning, their retreat 
becomes their tomb". 

But seventy men and six, of those 

Who dared four thousand to the fight, 
When morning o'er Dunboy arose, 

Beneath the ruin grouped at night. 
And these were weary, wounded, weak, 

Some, one might see, would droop and die 
Before another rosy streak 

Of morning touched the eastern sky. 



The white huired bard who proudly sung 

While last night's hours ou light wings flew, 
Now bent abdve his harp unstrung, 

His heart unstrung and shattered too. 
And there upon the moist cold ground 

Mac Geohagan low moaning lay, 
While forth from many a crimson wound 

His life blood dripped and ebbed away. 
Many a stout limbed son of Beare, 

A giant in his strength that morn, 
Lay wearied, faint, and wounded there, 

Weak as an infant newly born. 
Some just could struggle through the task 

Across the room to limp or crawl, 
By groping on from cask to cask, 

And steadying by the cellar wall. 
Not one was there unmarked -\\dth gore, 

With scar and bruise, Avith blood and dust, 
No weapon on the ground but bore 

Some crimson stain or purple crust. 

" Friends", said the warrior priest, "though ill 

I speak their Saxon jargon, still, 

Methinks were I but face to face 

With their stern chief to plead our case, 

My words might have sufficient art 

To reach and touch his cruel heart. 

In other lands 'twas mine to see 

Brave soldiers flushed with victory, 

84 nt'Knor. 

To hear full oft' addressed to th»se 

The fair appeal of vaTupiished foes, 

And, AvhatsoeVr the battle's heat, 

Ilowe'er his heart might burn and beat, 

I've seen the conquering soldier stand, 

And sudden stay his vengeful hand, 

When as he swung his blade in air, 

The yielding foeman shouted ' spare !' 

Yes ; battles avou and lost I've seen ; 

Vanquished and victor have I been, 

I, Dominick Collins : at the head 

Of gallant troops of horse I've sped ; 

Finn in iny hand the tnisty lance 

Grasped for the Holy League of France — '* 

And borne me — so I hope at least — 

As fits a soldier and a priest. 

I -will confront oiu- Saxon foes. 

Perhaps in one brief hour to close 

The life I care not to prolong 

In this wild world of sin and wrong ; 

But yet perhaps some good to do. 

To win the terms you seek for you. 

Full well I knoAv that one and all 

As little care what fate befal. 

Yet well may I be foimd the first 

To hope the best and brave the worst". 

Then said the soldiers : " Be it so. 
But bless^us, Father, ere you go. 

Light is the sokliei-'s heart, who feels 

That, howsoe'er war's thunders roll, 
Wliate'er the fate red battle deals, 

No ills can reach his sinless soul ; 
Wlio in the wildest danger sees 

The path to "win the world's reno^vn, 
His country's thanks, or, failing these, 

Death, and with death a brighter crown. 
Bless us, good Father, bless us all ; 
To-morrow let what may befal". 

.He bless'd them all, and begged their pray'i-s, 
Then mounted up the narrow stairs. 
Slow, as if half resolyed he stept. 

Till on the topmost stone at last, 
One bitter burst of grief he wept, 

Then forth into the air he passed. 

The cellar gloom was damp and chill ; 
'Tis true the night was short, but stiU 
Those few brief hours, the soldiers said, 
A cheerier time might Avell be made. 
They struck their flints and quickly raised 
A merry fire that cracked and blazed, 
They fed the flame vrith. logs of pine 
TTet with strong iisquebaugh and wine ; 
Unto the Avarmth the strongest men 
Brought up their weaker friends, and then 
From the rich plenty round them stored, 
That oft had decked a gayer board, 


Drew forth and gave, ^vith kindly speecli, 

Good cheer around to all and each 

Who still could drain a cup or two, 

To Ireland and her soldiers true. 

But generous drinks and grateful food, 

To glad the heart and warm the blood, 

Were not the only stores that lay 

Around them heaped and stowed away. 

Not long erect on Irish land 

Could princely hall or castle stand. 

Which had, close by its basement stone, 

But com and wines and meats alone, 

And held not full supplies for those 

Who came the way as friends or foes. 

By that deep cellar's walls were found 

Stout barrels trebly hooped and bound. 

They held — not fare to cheer and brace 

The huntsman weary of the chase. 

They w^ere not wells whose taste would move 

The lips to song, the heart to love — 

Beneath their lids so closely kept, 

A fierce, a mighty giant slept ; 

One touch of fire would break the spell, 

And raise from out each fragile shell 

A dazzling shape, that with a flash — 

A thunder roar — a sudden crash — 

Would crush and kill, would scorch and burn, 

Cast down, uproot, and overturn, 

Would scatter wreck and death around. 

Then pass from off the blackened ground 


As quickly to the trembling air, 
And on the instant vanish there ! 
Unto the centre of the floor 
One barrel from that dreadful store, 
The soldiers moved, and quick undid 
The fastenings of its heavy lid, 
But loosely on the dull black grain 
Laid the thick covers doAvn again. 
Then turned to spend the passuig night 
As well and gaily as they might. 

'^ Soldiers !" in accents faiat and weak, 
"Mac Geohagan was heard to speak : — 
" Amid the battle's crash and heat 
I've watched you well, and now 'tis meet 
That ere my lips are closed for aye, 
I own your gallant deeds, and say, 
That well you've borne the bloody day. 
The ruined pile above will stand, 
A sign to all who tread the land, 
That by no brief assault was won 
The fight that wrecked this stout old Dun ; 
That here, these ragged walls among, 
Defenders brave, assailants strong. 
In deadly combat battled long ! 
God rest the dead, the brave and true. 
But, living comrades, what of you ? 
In one brief hour, as all must know. 
Above our heads Avill swarm the foe — 

SH DrsnoY, 

If stUl my brave men's lives they ask. 
If still they crave their bloody task, 
Then, comrades, then — the powder cask ! 
Aha ! about my heart I feel 
A hand as hard and cold as steel, 
And yet, despite the mortal pain 
A glory bathes my dying brain ! — 
O'Daly ! touch my favourite strinp:, 
Sweet thoughts in wildering music fling. 
Upon my heart : O'Daly, :-ing !" 

" A shattered harp is mine to-night", 

O'Daly said, " for even I, 
"When hotly raged the unequal fight, 
And red blood flowed before my sight, 

Could not stand idly by. 
I scarcely thought this withered arm 
Could work the cursed brood such harm, 
But yet beneath the weights I hurled, 

ISIore than one hateful Saxon hound 
Howled out with pain, bowed do^vn and curled, 

And rolled upon the bloody ground. 
Rut Avhile I stood upon the wall 

Some marksman keen my post espied. 
Ere long a well aimed musket ball 

Ripped up the flesh along my side, 
Aiid glancing struck the harp I laid 

Not far away. Our songs are o'er, 
My harp, my much-loved harp, I said ; 

Dunboy will hear thy strains no more ! 


But yet a few deep chords remain, 

I'll wake the tones though faint they be, 

One old air haunts my darkening brain — 
And thus I sing, my chief, for thee. 

'Tis bitter news for Bantrj-, 'tis gloomy news for 

'Tis mournful news for Ireland, the grief that 

smites us here ; 
Mavrone, mavrone, our tribes will groan, and 

o"\vn the Aveight of Avoe, 
As white lips say, " Beside the bay Dunboy is 

lying low". 


No wonder sighs and sobs should rise ; no wonder 

tears should riui ; 
No wonder Erin dear shoidd weep, as a mother 

weeps her son ; 
'Neath many a loss and heavy cross 'twas her's 

to bend and boAV, 
But some were bliss and joy to this that breaks 

her fond heart now. 

But, good and gallant clansmen, enough, enough 

for you, 
YouVe fought the fight for Ireland'r) right, as 

Ireland's sons should do. 


God will decree what's yet to be, but pray, dear 

cliinsmen, pray. 
That soon His hand may raise our laud, and 

chase her Iocs away. 


Home of my I'ace, my native place, green isle, 

I've loved thee long ; 
Low at thy feet, I've hymned thee, sweet, and laid 

my gift of song ; 
But joy more time I never knew, than noAv, a gra 

When this red flood of living blood flows from 

my heart for thee. 

The song is hushed, the listeners speak, 
Even dying men, bowed down and weak, 
A moment raise their heads to say, 
The bard ne'er sung a sweeter lay. 
But one whose praise was ever dear 
As blessings to the hai-per's ear. 
Speaks not, moves not — what can it be ? 
They hasten to their chief to see — 
He lives ! he lives ; he is not dead, 
His noble spirit has not fled. 
Though like a corse the hero lies 
With Ups relaxed and closdd eyes. 
They lay his massive frame at ease. 
His head upon a soldier's knees ; 


They loose the gun and sword belts wound 
His manly breast and body round, 
Then, lest the Saxon troops come on, 
And find their ordered valour gone. 
To Taylor, ever wise and brave, 
The chief command with greetings gave. 
Nor could the faithful clansmen's voice 
Have spoken out a better choice. 
His was a heart that never knew 
A moment's fear, but firmer greAv 
When danger near and nearer came, 
And death's keen dart seemed sure of aim. 
His form, of more than middle height. 
Stood Hke a poplar straight and slight ; 
His face was pale, his cheeks were deep, 
The bones alone would seem to keep 
Their sides apart ; his gray eyes seemed 
To light a brain that ever dreamed ; 
His yellow hair was loosely thrown 
From off the lofty plate of bone • 
That o'er them stood : He looked a man 
Steady of purpose, slow to plan, 
But sure to act, and aye abide 
By that his will shoidd once decide. 
He took the post they called him to : 
Its duties now were plain and few : 
He pushed a seat across the floor, 
And placed it by the powder store ; 
He sate him calmly dovra, and bid 
The soldiers lift the loosened lid ; 

02 DfN'noY. 

Soon as the Saxons' tramp ciimc near, 
lit' firmly grasped a burning brand. 

He listened with an anxious ear, 
And held the red light in his hand, 

Then when their haughty summons broke 

The silence, to his men he spoke : — • 

" Soldiers, the hour for strife is past, 
The fight is fought, the die is cast. 
Yield ye who will. I set ye free ; 
Let those who choose remain with me ; 
But which are braver, none may say. 
The men who leave, or those avIio stay, — 
All fought the hard fight yesterday. 
Yield ye who will : I still remain, 
Once more, though well I know' in vain. 

Our last night's terms of peace to ask. 
Should they but mock my Avords again, 

To answer with the poANTler cask. 

A moment's pause, and twenty-three 

Sore wounded men together came. 
Spoke to their comrades mournfully. 

And bowed their heads, as if in shame, 
Then slowly climbed the bloody stair, 
Gloved out into the morning air. 

Still with the night dews chill and damp, 
Marched straight across the Avell known ground, 
And in a minute more were bound 

In chains within the Saxon camp. 


Another pause, and from tlie few 
Within the gloomy vault, -wdthdrew 
Three war worn men, Spain's Avorthy sons, 
Who bravely worked the castle guns. 
And spurned the bribes Carew would pay 
To wia them from their posts away. 
Not less their proud hearts' bitter grief, 

That there were guns to Avork no more, 
For Spanish king or Irish chief, 
'Gainst Saxon dogs of unbelief. 

On Irish sea or shore. 

Asxain the Saxons shouted, " Ho ! 
Irish rebels still below. 
Yield, or we batter down a wall 
Above your heads, and one and all 
Imprisoned in the vault remain 
And soon for exit howl in vain". 

" Promise life unto my men", 
Taylor said : " we yield but then. 
Still refuse, and Avith the brand 
Brightly flaming in my hand, 
Friends and foes at once shall I 
Hurl in one blast tow'rds the sky"." 

The Saxons left Avith curse and froAvn, 
Again their cannon redly flashed. 
Their huge balls through the rvdn crashed, 

And fast the old walls Avasted doAvn. 

Ot Pl-NBOY. 

But sec, from midst the dusty drifts 
A figure comes, his hand lie lifts 
Above his head, and drawing near 
His shouted words the EngUsh hear : — 

"We yiehll we yield! we strive no more, 
Our arms are piled on the cellar floor. 
Taylor, our captain, murmurs yet, 
But we hush his voice with plea and threat. 
Enter ; the clansmen round you Ipng 
"Will strike no more ; are dead or dying". 

Into the vault the Saxons ran : 

The voices and the tramp of feet 
Aroused the chief Mac Geohagan, 

Whose heart had well nigh ceased to beat. 
With hard wild stare he looked around, — 

Were these the Saxons near him ? what !- 
His gallant men disarmed and bound ? 

He tottered to the flames and caught 
A glo^ving ember in his hand. 

Then toAvards the cask held on his way. 
The English soldiers saw the brand, 

And rushed in front his course to stay ; 
Their captain, Power, forward flew, 

And grasped the dpng hero fast, 
The while another of the crew, 
His bloody weapon through and through 

The noble chieftain's body passed. 


Slow dripped the blood ; that heart had nigh, 
Before the cruel deed, run dry ; 

But ere his gallant spirit fled, 
Lord Thomond caught the chieftain's eye, 

And thus with dying breath he said : — 

" Ha ! Earl, you'll own I told you true 

When on the island's side we met ; 
The words should still be known to you, 

I can recall them even yet — 
' No English troops shall ever find 
A shelter from the rain and vnnd ; 
No English preacher ever raise 
A canting hymn in England's praise ; 
No Enghsh council ever prate 
The weal or woe of England's state ; 
Nor Irish slave one hour enjoy. 
Beneath the roof of proud Dunboy'. 
I spoke you thus, and, traitor, tell. 
Have I not kept my promise well ? 

" Donal and Eileen ! yes, I see, 

You're here to laugh and sing with me. 

Strike up, O'Daly! prove your skill! 

What ! Wliy is all so cold and still ? 

So still and dark ! Where am I ? Where ? 

Donal and Eileen ! No one near ! 

Ah ! yes, I know. Dunboy, good bye ! 

God take my soul ! I die, I die !" 



That eve witliia the Suxon's camp, 

The hi-adnian's stntkfs continued lonj?, 

With a steady chamj), like a measured tramp, 
For the clansmen's bones were stout and strong." 

Four days from thenco the Saxon troops, 
Their guns and stores had stowed away 
Into their ships ; to-morrow they 
Would cross again the heaving Ijay. 

And wherefore stood those watchful groups 

On board upon the vessels' poops, 
On shore on many a rocky height, 
And towards tlie ruin turned their sight ? 

The outworks stand. 

And some walls are high, 
Though a useless heap 

As they meet the eye. 
Even these must fall. 

The Saxons swear : 
Each work and wall. 
They shall level all, 

Ere they sail from Beai'e. 

The train is laid to the powder store, 

The fire creeps on — in a moment more 

The flame leaps forth witli a hoarse dull roar, 


Dazzling the eye 
With a wildering light, 
That makes the noon sky 

Look black as night ! 
The flash is passed ; a snjoky pall 

Hides for a time the wreck around, 
While fragments of the broken wall, 
And high-hurled stones, returning, fall 
On the trembling ground 

With a heavy crash ; 
Into the sea 

With a noisy plash. 
The once green bank 

With the wreck is cumbered ; 
With beam and plank 

Is the blue tide lumbered. 
The dust drifts by, the smoke clouds sever, 
But no castle now 
Shows its haughty brow, 
Dunboy is swept from the earth for ever. 

He saw the flash, he heard the sound, 
As o'er Knockoura's hill he came ; 

He shrieked and made a sudden bound. 
As if his heart had felt the flame. 



As if some huge and lieavy stone, 
Forth from the blazing ruin thrown. 

Had struck him down, to earth lie fi^ll; 
A shudder, and a fitfid groan, 

Awliile were all the signs to tell 
That through the prostrate body ran 
The hot blood of a living man. 

He rose again, he gazed about. 

His eyes beheld Dunboy no more ; 
The very walls were blotted out — 
He scarcely knew the place, without 

That building by the shore. 
The sea, the hills, seemed something strange. 
So great, so sad, the sudden change, 

In one destructive moment wrought ; 
He sate him down a moment's space, 
Within his hands he hid his face. 
Again his mind was wdth the past, — 
The day he saw that valley last 

Was glowing in his thought. 
But from the long day-dream he broke, 
And oft-used words again he spoke : — 

" Aye, be the issue what it may. 
On this hill-side again to-day, 

I pledge my sacred vow anew. 
By all on Earth my heart holds dear, 
And all my hopes of Heaven, I swear 

To fight this struggle through. 


To fight it through, though well I see 

Few are the hopes that now remain 
To you, my native land, or me ; 

Our forts are fallen, our chiefs are slain, 
And men of Irish blood and birth 

Are stooping dowTi to vile disgrace, 
Showing that scandal to the Earth, 

The rotting of a noble race. 
Crushed into slaves are royal tribes, 

High chieftains fight for Saxon pay, 
The sons of kings take foreign bribes, 
, Brothers their brothers' blood betray, 
And clan on clan works ruin, while 
The common foe wins all the isle. 
Yet while in all the land I see 
One shred of our good flag floating free. 

With a hundred men beneath it, 
I'll still be first in the holy toil, 
Our foes to slay, their plans to foil ; 
My bones shall bleach on my native soil, 

Or mine be the last sword sheathed !" 

So spoke the chief, and well he kept 
His oft' repeated promise true ; 

Though Desmond, hill and vale, was swept 
By Wilmot, Thomond, and Carew ; 

Yet with a brave and desperate band, 

That flocked to him from half the land. 

1 00 Dl'NBOY. 

He still defied the Saxons' might, 
Dashed on their outposts day and night, 
And many a stately keep and dun, 
Back from tlieir Irish allies won ;" 
Yet like a stead}' tide arose, 
Tlie triumph of his Saxon foes. 
And f^m his side, day after day. 
Some new support was swept away. 
Brave Tin-cU, iilled with wide despair, 
Moved northward from the hills of Beare, 
And Burke, when all looked darker yet 
From Donal parted Avith regret. 
One gallant chief, Iracti's lord, 

O'Connor Kerry, still remained. 
And held unsheathed as good a sword 

As ever Saxon life-blood stained. 
But vainly Bcara's prince and he 

Might hope that struggle to prolong, — 
No Spanish aid came o'er the sea. 

Their friends grew weak, their foemen 
strong ; 
The true men of the land were slain. 

Cabins as well as castles crushed, 
And far o'er Munster, hill and plain. 

The very sounds of life were hushed. 
No cattle lowed from l>awn or keep. 

No farmer delved witli spade or plough ; 
None cared to sow, for who might reap, 

Or see the harvest planted now ? 


So dii'e the wreck the Saxons made 

With gun and sword, and burning brand, 
That troops unkept by foreign aid, 

Would famish in the Avasted land.^" 
Sad Avas the scene to Donal's view, 

As from the Sheehy heights he gazed ; 
But midat the Ulster hills, he kneAv, 

His country's flag was still upraised. 
O'Kourke, O'Cahan, brave O'Neill, 
Despite the Saxons' gold and steel. 

Their treacherous arts, their subtle plans, 
'Still filled the Pale with woe and dread, 
Still on to battle bravely led 

The remnants of their broken clans. 
'Twas now his sole remaining course 

On to their lands to travel fast ; 
To add to theirs his shattered force. 

And fight the good fight to the last. 

Fair Eileen, prized and treasured long 

All treasures of the Earth above. 
Whose life was sweetened like a song. 

With tender thought and glomng love ; 
Whose lightest wish had power to sway 

Brave hearts that battle never shook, 
Whom chiefs were happy to obey, 

Rewarded by one sunny look — 

1 02 I.UNT.OY. 

How sa(^ly olifinged those hours that roll, 

"While hid from war's destroying blast, 
With nought to cheer her sorrowing soul, 

Iler days and nights of gloom went past; 
AV^ile Donal and his war-worn clan, 

On Muskerry's fields the fight maintained, 
And but one tnisty h\imble man 

To guard her and her babes remained — 
Mac Sweeny — ever faithful found, 

Faithful of heart, and strong of arm, 
Who midst wild dangers gathering round, 

Would shield his precious charge from harm. 
Well did he guard the princely brood, 

Banticrna* and her darling sons, 
He robbed the eaglets of their food 

To feed the young O'Sullivans,^' 
From the bright stream hooked up the trout, 

Trapped the fleet hare in copse and field, 
And rude but bounteous fare spread out 

Where Donal's loves were safe concealed. 
He sung old songs in accents low. 

To tunes the babes were pleased to hear, 
He told strange tales of long ago, 

To charm awhile their mother's ear. 
And held, like fosterer true and brave. 
The trust his honoured master gave. 

He came, the Prince of Bcara came. 
To that dear nook within the glen, 
* Bantierna—Tho Lady of the land ; the Chieftainess. 

DUNBOY. 103 

Toil-worn and vanqiiished, still the same 
Unclouded brow, unbending frame, 

And eyes of sparkling light, as when 
Around Dunboy his single name 

Could summon tAvice a thousand men. 
The same to gentle Eileen too, 

As in those unforgotten days, 
"When from her fond young heart he drew 
The glowing love that pure and true 

Still burned with calm and quenchless blaze. 
He clasped her neck, he kissed her brow, 
• He dried the tears she wept with joy, 
And owned as deep a gladness now. 

As aught he felt in proud Dunboy. 

He came — 'twas come to this — to take. 
For their dear lives, and honour's sake. 
His loved ones thence ; to bear them forth 
On that dread journey to the north. 
For now by Beare or Bantrj-'s shore 
Wlio 0'\\Taed his blood was safe no more. 
His faithful people, wild with grief. 
Gathered around their glorious chief, 
Men, women, children, all would go 
Where'er he went — in vreal or woe, 
In war or peace, would share his lot, 
But make no home where he Avas not. 
He sent not from his exile band, 
The slow of step, the weak of hand, 


Whu swelled the crowd, though well hu kut-w 

His danger with their number grew ; 

lie j)laced the feebler forms within 

A trij)le rank of sturdy men, 

And :ill, one dark December day, 

From Bcara took their mournful way. 

God help the weak ! the world, alas ! 
Will use them hardly as they pass : 
God pity Ireland ! she has nurst 
Of all her foes the fiercest, -worst. 
Her children's ablest plans were laid 
That Irish blood might be betrayed, 
Her warriors struck their hardest when 
The blows fell on their countrymen, 
And scarce one deed of guilt and shame 
The strangers, from the day they came, 
Wrought in the wronged and outraged land, 
Unaided by a native hand. 

Onward the sad procession sped, 
Fast fell the rain and winter snows, 

The way was long, and rough to tread — 

O bitter news, O tale of dread — 
Upon them pressed a cloud of foes ! 

The settlers of the English Pale, 

Swept forth from every wooded vale, 

And Irish traitors rushed before, 

To dip their hands in Irish gore. 

DUN BOY. 105 

Dire was the luipless clansmen's fliglit, 
They fought by day, they fought at night ;^^ 
Midst Muskery's hills they strove and bled, 
Liscarroll's fields they streaked with red. 
Base Barry, with his mvirderous brood, 
And Teige Mac Carthy's men, pursued. 
From rough Sliebh Lougher, Cuffey's troops, 
Clan Gibbon's fierce and eager groups, 
All hurried forward to destroy 
The flying tribe from far Dunboy. 
Well fought the clan, but field and flood, 
,The course they went was marked with blood, 
And slain and famished bodies lay 
Behind them on their fatal way. 

They stood upoi. the Shannon's side. 
The flood ran fast, the way was wide, 
No ford was there to travel o'er. 
No boats to bear them to the shore, 
While nearer, like a rushing flame, 
Tipperary's Saxon sheriff came. 
Hard was their strait, at last bereft 
Of every chance, what hope was left ? 
In gloom each head awhile was bowed, 
Till spoke the Prince of Beare aloud — 

" Let skiffs of osier twigs be made. 

Kill you your horses, let a hide 
Tight on each Avicker frame be laid. 

Launch the light curraghs on the tide. 


Step softly in : wliat more to say 

To Ixiatineii nursed on Bantry Bay ?" 

Soon on the waves the curraghs tossed, 
From hmd to hmd they safely crossed, 
But just as half the shattered ranks 
Were landed on the further banks, 
Upon the yet remaining few, 
The sheriff's savage party flew. 
Bloody and brief the fight that sped, 
Ere back the beaten Palesmen fled. 
And the light curraghs onAvard bore 
The victors to the Galway shore. 

One thousand persons, young and old, 

They marched from Bantry's deep blue tide. 

Two hundred — every mortal told, 
They stood upon the Shannon's side, 

And hardships Avorse than axight they met. 

Lay in the path before them yet. 

By Aughrim's slopes, beside a Avood, 

An English force Avell posted stood, 

Trained soldiers all, and ably led. 

With captain !Malby at their head. 

In numbers thnce exceeding those 

Whose Avay they gathered to oppose. 

And SAvorn to leave no living man 

That evening of the rebel clan. 

DUNBOY. 107 

But on the desperate patriots dashed, 

Undaunted by that stem array, 
Like tongues of fire their -weapons flashed, 

As on they clove and dug their way 
Through yielding ranks ; like men possessed. 

They raged amidst the Saxon mass. 
Strong men went down where'er they pressed, 

Like broken reeds or trampled grass. 
On through the battle, to and fro, 

The Prince of Beara fiercely fought, 
Who saw his restless eyes, might know 

That for some certain foe he sought. 
One moment more, that foe was seen, 
'Twas Malby — none might stand between 

The chieftains as with tiger bound 
They leaped to meet, they fenced, they gripped, 
Turned, twisted, straightened, sudden slipped, 

And rolled upon the bloody ground. 
Turned o'er and o'er, with limbs inlocked. 
Now struggling hard, noAV slowly rocked 
With balanced strength : one moment grown 
Stiff as one solid block of stone. 
Next moment quick with vigorous life. 
Two forms, but grasped in mortal strife. 
Another pause, the longest since 
The fight began ; — uprose the Prince, 
His red right hand held by the hair 

The English captain's severed head. 
He flung the trophy high in air — 
Burst from the Irish ranks a cheer — 

1 08 nuNnoY. 

llurni. hurra! wliat troops could tlion 
Withstand that rush uf joyful moa — 
The Saxons wavered, slirunk with fear. 
Turned from the l)k)ody field and flcd.'^ 

But, to the clansmen, dire the cost 

Of every fight they won or lost. 

From each attack they battled through, 

Their dwindling force emerged more iew, 

And fainter, fewer, now they stood, 

Than when they crossed the Shannon's flood. 

Still onward pressed the warrior band, 

Till on O'Rourke of Breifny's land. 

Tired, wounded, faint, at length they found 

One friendly spot of Irish ground. 

Their rest was short, their stay was brief, 

The brave OTlourke, bowed down with grief, 

Surrounded by the spreading Pale, 

His wasted strength of no avail, 

Foemen to check, or friends to save, 

Submission to the Saxons gave. 

But Beara's sons not even now 

Beneath the hateful yoke would bow. 

One chief stiD waged the patriot Avar, 

And they would seek him, near or far. 

Before their wounds had time to heal, 

They bared agam their glittering steel. 

Went forth, and fought through conflicts stern, 

Till by the brink of broad Lough Erne 

DTXBOT. 109 

The brave men stood — but thirty five 
Out of one thousand left alive — 
Then their's the woe, the grief to learn 
In vain, in vain their long, long toil, 
In vain their life-blood Avet the soil, 
He too surrendered — Hugh O'Neill ! 
And Ireland,' like a swamp of gore. 
Lay waste and still from shore to shore. 

""Twas summer night, the rude winds slept, 
As o'er the bay a vessel crept. 
Two muffled forms went pacing slow 
Along her smooth deck, to and fro, 
Watching betimes the far stretched spars 
Sway back and forward through the stars, 
Pausing to hear the watch dogs' bark 
From distant fields come through the dark. 
And hear the heaving waters snore 
Along the old familiar sliore. 
Whose headlands only met the sight 
As gloomier patches of the night. 
On passed the ship with easy glide, • 
Unto Bearehaven's tranquil tide ; 
Her low, black boat, in calm profound. 
Bore on one form to Beara's ground. 
He moved about with moody pace, 
He travelled o'er and o'er the place, 


1 1 (^ DUNBOT. 

Then, wlien tlie brightening of the daj 
Had Avarned him from tlie scene away, 
He sought the sacred spot of all, 
The ruin — once a castle tall — 
And wept upon the broken wall. 

On board ! on board ; fair blows the wind, 

The Caha hills sink down behind ; 

Beare island dips, tall Hungry too, 

Melts down into the sea of blue, 

No more, except in dreams, to rise, 

To Donal's or to Edeen's eyes. 

Like winter rain, fast fell her tears, 

And he, whose heart through troubled years 

Its inward griefs in silence kept, 

BoAved down his head, and wildly wept. 

In Spain, high placed beside the king, 

The wearied exUes rest at last. 
If honours, wealth, and peace could bring 

A charm to hide the painful past, 
'Twas Donal's now ;'** but annals say 
His heart -was by his native bay ; 
His words w^ere of the gallant men 
Whose good swords Hashed through pass and glen 
Where'er he led ; and when he thought 
O'er all the wrongs the Saxon wrought, 
The deep dyed crimes that Heaven must hate, 
And GolI will punish, soon or late. 


Oft did liis tliotights break out aloud, 
And many a time lie firmly -vowed 
His race, though now proscribed and banned, 
Would have and hold then- native land, 
And guard with patriot pride and joy, 
The very stones of old Dunboy. 




The Sun is setting angrily, 

In thi-eat'ning gusts the wind is blowing — 
Holy Mary ! Star of the Sea ! 
Speed our small bark fast and fi-ee 

O'er the homeward way we're going ! 

We left the land as the morninsr briorht 

Purpled the smooth sea all before us — 
We prayed to God, and our hearts were light, 
We placed our bark in thy saving sight, 

And knew thou would'st well watch o'er us. 

* The following pieces are re-printed from the Nation 
newspaper, to wliicli journal they, with others not in- 
cluded in tliis vohinie, were contributed by the writer at 
various times within the past few years. Many of tliem 
received a large circulation from journals published in 
Ireland and in America — losing, in several cases, during 
their progress, the signature or initials attached to them 
on their first appearance, and acquiring new ones in place 
of them. Some " smart" gentleman, who gave his name, 
had one of them published in a Boston paper, with a 
line stating that he had written it expressly for that 
journal. They are indeed but small matters, yet the 
owner does not desire to see them appropriated bj- other 
persons; and, therefore, it is not unnecessary to i^rcfacQ 
their re-publication with this note. 

1 1 1 SONGS AND rOF.MS. 

But now tho sun sets angrily, 

From black wild clouds the Avind is blowing — 
Holy Mary ! Star of the Sea! 
Send our small liark fast and free 

O'er the darkling way we're going ! 

"We fished the deep the live-long day, 

The waves weie rich, through God's good plea- 
sure ; 
We ventured far from our own bright bay, 
And lingered late ; we fain Avould stay 
'Till filled with the shining treasure. 

But now the night falls threat'ningly, 

The sea nins high with the fierce wind blowing- 
Holy Mary ! Star of the Sea ! 
Our light, our guide, our safety be, 
O'er the stormy way we're going ! 

We pass the point where the tempest's strain 
Is lightened off by the land's high cover ; 

Our -village lights shine out again — 

I know my own in my window pane. 
And the tall church glooming over. 

Holy Mary ! Star of the Sea ! 

With grateful love our hearts are glowing ; 
Behold we bless thy Son and thee ! 
Oh, still our light and safety be 

O'er the last dread course we're going ! 



"A young soldier of the 18th Royal Irish, named MacDonnell, 
was blown to atoms before Sfbastopol. A few days since, our youug 
hero".s widowed mother had his medal witli four clasps presented 
to her, the only relic of her son. In the course of the evening tlie 
poor woman ' laid out' the medal on tlie kirchen table, and having 
procured four mould candles, she collected her neighbours and kept 
up tlie • wake' mitil an early hour the following morning. — Tralee 

And this is all she has to lay 
To-night upon the sno^vy sheets 

Before the friends who come the Avay, 
And sighing take their humble seats — • 

This medal, bravely, dearly won, 

Poor token of her gallant son. 

But over this, as nought beside 
Of him she loved to her remains. 

The lights are lit, the croon is cried, 
And women weep in saddest strains, 

While men who knoAV his boyhood well. 

Say, foes went down before he fell. 

These clasps and medal ; only these ! 

For this she nursed and loved him long. 
She rocked him softly on her knees. 

And filled his ears with pleasant song, 
And saw him, with a mother's pride, 
Grow up and strengthen by her side. 


Till bright vitli inanhood's glowing cbarnis 
lie in his turn her nurse became, 

Hu clasped her in his manly arms, 

And fondly propped her drooping frame. 

Her step grew weak, her eye grew dim, 

But then she lived and moved in him. 

He went ; he joined the deadly fight, 
His true heart loved her not the less ; 

But these are all she has to-night 
To light and clieer her loneliness, — 

These silver honours, dearly won, 

Poor tokens of her gallant son. 

But even these, to-morrow morn, 

When lights burn out and friends depart. 

Shall round her withered neck be worn, 
Shall lie upon her weary heart 

Till death, for his dear memory's sake. 

And then — shall deck another wake. 


Far out beyond our sheltered bay. 
Against the golden evening sky, 

A brown speck rises, then away 
It sinks — it dwindles from my eye. 


Again it rises ; drawing nigh, 

Its well known shape grows shai-p and clear — 

It is his bark, my Donal dear ! 
And oh ! though small a speck it be, 

Kind Heaven, that knows my hope and fear, 
Can tell the world it holds for me. 

My boat of boats is steering home — 
She bends and sw-ays before the wind ; 

I cannot see the milky foam 

Beneath her bows and far behind. 

• But oh! I know my love will find, 
Howe'er the evening current flows, 
Howe'er the rising night wind blows, 

The shortest course his keel can dart 
From where he is, to where he knows 

I wait to clasp him to my heart. 

Come, Donal, home ! See by my side 
Your little sons, impatient too. 

All day they loitered by the tide. 
And prattled of your boat and you. 
Into the glancing waves they threw 
Some little chips : the surges bore 
Their tiny vessels back to shore. 

Then Avoiild they clap their han-ls and say 
The first was your's : then o'er and o'er, 

Would ask me why you stayed away. 


Como, Don.ll, home ! Tin? red sun sets; 

Come to your children dear, and me; 
And hring us full or empty nets, 

A scene of joy our hearth shall be. 

You'll tell me stories of the sea ; 

And 1 will sing the songs you said 

"Were sweet as mid sea-music made 
By mermaids on the weedy rocks. 

When in some sheltered quiet shade, 
They sing, and comb their dripping locks. 

He comes I he comes ! My boat is near ; 

I know her mainsaU's narrow peak. 
They haul her flowing sheets — I hear 

The dry sheeves on their pivots creak. 

He waves his hand ; I hear him speak- 

Come to the beach, my sons, with me ; 

He'll greet us from her side ; and we 
Shall meet him when he leaps to shore ; 

Then take him home, and bid him see 
Our brighter deck — our cottage floor. 


Though FatR will permit us no longer 
To stiiiggle through life side by side, 

Let our love but grow purer and stronger, 
However our hearts may be tried. 


We are parted — it may be for ever — 
But, tliougli we be far from each other, 

One bond that no distance can sever 
Shall always connect us, my Brother. 

And oft, when my prospects look dreary, 

AVlien those I have trusted, deceive; 
"WTien I sink, disappointed and Aveary, 

And scarcely know what to beUeve ; 
When the dark clouds of life gather o'er me. 

One star shall outshine every other ; 
And the long, rugged pathway before me 

Grow bright with the love of my Brother. 

How oft does some sweet recollection, 

From various occasions, arise. 
That touches the chords of affection. 

And brings a hot dew to my eyes — 
How oft does some incident waken 

The thoughts I could share with no other ; 
And my heart, like a chamber forsaken, 

Re-echo my wish for my Brother ! 

As barques that the tempests have driven 

And tossed far apart on the main. 
Steer on by the beacons of Heaven, 

And meet in one harbour again ; 
Even so, if the storms of existence 

Have parted us here from each other, 
Let us steer to that light in the distance, 

And meet in that haven, my Brother ! 


Sulcus AND I'OEMS. 

WEST W A R I), II O ! 

My Mary ban,* 'tis nearly dawn, 

Come down, my Mary dear ; 
And let not those, our sleeping foes, 

Your passing footsteps hear. 
For should they -wake, my life they'd td.K e , 

Or take away from me 
My more than lite, my plighted wife — 

My Mary ban, machree. 

My love, my pride, the world is wide, 

And W'heresoe'er we roam, 
We've strength, and youth, and love, and truth, 

To build otu-selves a home. 
There's nought but care and sorrow here 

In everything I see ; 
And nothing bright, by day or night, 

But Mary ban, machree. 

My love ! I knew your word was true ; 

Your heart was strong and brave. 
We'll seek, asthore, the better shore 

That smiles beyond the wave ! 

* bAn— pronounced • bawu". means fair. 


Our lot, we know, where'er we go, 

A lot of toil must be ; 
But yet away we start to-day, 

JSIy Mary ban, macliree. 


My Lady fair ! thy gentle slumbers 

Will not shnt out this lay of mine, 
But through thine ear its plaintive numbers 

Shall steal into thy dreams divine. 
The murmur of a streamlet flowing 

Through sunny lands, the strain may be, 
Or wind through blossomed foliage blowing, 

But yet 'twill breathe of love and thee. 

And when from thy bright dreams awaking, 

Those plaintive notes thou still Aalt hear, 
Upon the night wind softly breaking, 

While all beside is dark and drear ; 
Then fancy's wUes no more misleading, 

Thy heart will know the strain to be 
The fond appeal, the fervent pleading. 

That bursts from mine for love and thee. 


Like some pale plant in darkness pining, 

'J'liat struggles toward the one bright ray 
Into its cheerless prison shining, 

So I too fade and pine away ; 
And so I creep unto thy dwelling, 

Before thy window pane, to see 
The lij^dit that, gloom and grief dispelling, 

Falls on my soul from love and thee. 

The path I've traced is dark and lonely. 

And distant far my cottage lies. 
But let me hear thy voice, and only 

One moment see thy beaming eyes ! 
Then dangers wild may wait before me — 

Then Heaven may hide its stars from me, 
And thunders burst around and o'er me, 

I'll only think of love and thee. 


Frown not, my love ! ah, let me chase 
Away the shade; of care that lies 

To-night so darkly on your face. 
And mist-like o'er your manly eyes. 

Ah, let me try the winning ways 


Yoli said were mine — the angel art 
To pour at once ten thousand rays 
Of dancing sunlight on your heart ! 

My love, my life ! 

Your little wife 
Must bid these gloomy thoughts depart. 

When love was young and hopes -were bright, 

I thought, 'midst all our dreams of bliss, 
That clouds might come like these to-night, 

And hours of sori-ow such as this. 
And then, I said, my task shall be 

To soothe his heart so fond and true. 
And he who loves me thus, shall see 

How much his little wife can do. 
My heart, my life, 
Your little wife 

Must bid you dream those dreams anew. 

Then let me lift those locks that fall 

So wildly o'er your lofty brow, 
And smooth, with fingers soft and small, 

The veins that cord yoiir temples now. 
How oft, when ached your wearied head, 

From manly care, or thought divine, 
Yoii've held me to your heart, and said 

You wanted love so deep as mine ! 
My o-\\Ti, my life ! 
Your little wife. 

That love is all her life's design. 


And here it is — a lovo as wild 

As e'er defied the world's control ; 
The fondness of a tearful child, 

The passion of a woman's soul, 
All mingled in my breast for thee, 

In one hot tide — I cannot speak : 
But feel my throbbing heart, and see 

Its brightness in my burning cheek — 
My Icve, my life ! 
Your little wife 

Must cheer you, or her heart will break. 

Ah, now the breast I found so cold. 

Grows Avarm within my close embrace ; 
And smiles as sweet as those of old 

Are stealing softly o'er your face ; 
And far within your brightening eyes 

My image, true and clear, I see ; 
Each shade of care and sorrow flies, 

And leaves your heart again to me — 
My love, my life ! 
Your little wife 

Its only Queen must ever be. 



Come on, come on, my heai't of hearts, 

Come fondly nigh to me : 
Our hearth is bright this wintry night, 

Howe'er the skies may be. 
Dark clouds have cloaked our darling moon, 

There's not a star to see ; 
My moon, my star, my sun you are, 

And more than all to me. 

To-night the wind is howling loud 

Through turrets grand and high ; 
With softer rush, with swell and hush, 

We hear it hurry by. 
The rain upon our cottage thatch 

Is drifting noiselessly — 
So soft may all life's tempests fall 

On you, my love, and me. 

Or let them bring us icy words, 

And looks as cold as snow — 
They'll melt before our cottage door. 

We'll thaw them Avhere we go. 
They cannot touch our hearts of fire, 

Or dim those eyes of blue, 
Or e'er unfold the clasp I hold, 

^ly heart of hearts, of you. 


Or let tlie winter last for aye, 

Let all its rain be hail, 
Let clouds the worst around us burst, 

And wild words load thu gale. 
I still shall have a .suiiinu'r bright, 

A flower of fairest hue, 
And liizlit and heat, and fruitage sweet. 

My heart of hearts, in you. 


Oh ! sailor from yon stately ship, 

Whose wet sails tell a stormy tale, 
Tell me if on your fearful trip 
You've seen a small barque roll and dip, 
And live throughout the gale ? 

She left these shores whou winds were low, 

With white sails set and flag unfurled ; 
Her crew were told those gales would blow. 
Those thunders burst — yet would they go. 
And brave the stormy world. 

" I've passed the barrpie far out at sea, 
Along the mountain waves she flew ; 
The Avaters boiled beneath her lee, 
Her spars were bent as spars could be, 
Yet fearless seemed the crew. 


"And like a bird she swejit along, 

With white sails set, and flag unfurled ; 
The storm around was mixed with song, 
She gilt the waves she rolled among. 
And proudly braved the world. 

" And ever upAvard looked the crew, 
As if to say, ' though dark it be, 
The brilliant sun will yet burst through, 
Light clouds ^Yi\\ fleck a sky of blue. 
And soft winds sweep the sea'. 

" She passed ; she faded from my sight, 
The darkness fell. I only say. 
That barque whose freight was love and 

Might weather through so wild a night, 
When passed was such a day". 

God bless the barque and bless the crew, 

And as they ho2)e, so may it be. 
That brilliant suns will soon burst through, 
Light clouds soon fleck a sky of blue. 

And soft w'inds sweep the sea. 



In great Columbia's grandest town, 

I toil and think the whole day long ; 
And sometimes sigh, Imt never frown, 
For Hope still sings a cheerful song — 
" Toil, toil away. 
Fast comes the day, 

Wlien once again your eyes shall see 
Your own dear isle. 
And her whose smile 
It. dcai'cr still to thee". 

Lean o'er your anchor, Hope divine, 

I inly cry ; oh, tell me more 
Of her whose pure young heart Avas mine. 
And yet may be, tliis trial o'er. 
" Her large white brow 
Is calmer now — 

More Avoman sweet her face appears ; 
Her brown eyes seem 
For aye to dream, 

And not unused to tears". 

Again I bend me o'er my task. 

With nerves new strung and gladdened will ; 
Yet something more my heart would ask ; 

A shadow haunts my spirit still — 


Her love ? Her truth ? 
Her vows of youtli ? 

" She steals away with face all pale, 
To gaze each day 
G'er ocean's spray, 

For some expected sail". 

Kind Hope ! oh ! bid her not to fear 

My heart is changed, or vows were vain. 
I Avill not linger longer here, 

But haste across the stormy main 
That rolls and raves 
In mountain waves. 

Between my native land and me — 
My own dear isle, 
And her Avhose smile 

I've pined so long to see. 

And with the wealth my hands have Avon, 
One home shall soon be hers and mine, 
A cottage fronting to the sim, 

A few bright fields, and glossy Idne ; 
And we shall tread 
The soil, nor dread 

The village tyrant as of yore, 
But sow and reap. 
And wake and sleep, 
Secure for evermore. 



Deep in Canadian woods we've met, 

From one bright island ihiwn ; 
Great is the land we tread, but yet 

Our hearts are with our own. 
And ere we leave this shanty small, 
Wliile fades the autumn day, 
We'll toast old Ireland ! 
Dear Old Ireland ! 
Ireland, boys. Hurra ! 

We've heard her faults a hundred times. 

The new ones and the old. 
In songs and sermons, rants and rhymes. 

Enlarged some fifty fold. 
But take them all, the great and small, 
And this Ave've got to say : — 
Here's dear old Ireland ! 
Good Old Ireland ! 
Ireland, boys. Hurra ! 

We know that brave and good men tried 

To snap her rusty chain, 
That patriots sufFi-red, mailyrs died, 

And all, 'tis said, in vain ; 
But no, boys, no ! a glance will show 


How far they've won their Avay — 
Here's good Old Ireland ! 
Loved Old Ireland ! 
Ireland, boys, Hurra ! 

We've seen the weddrng and the wake, 

The patron and the fair ; 
The stuff they take, the fun they make, 

And the heads they break do^\^l there, 
With a loud " hurroo" and a " pillalu", 
And a thundering " clear the way !" — 
Here's gay Old Ireland! 
Dear Old Ireland ! 
Ireland, boys. Hurra ! 

And well we know in the cool gray eves. 

When the hard day's work is o'er. 
How soft and sweet are the words that greet 

The friends who meet once more ; 
With " Mary machree !" and " My Pat ! 'tis he !' 
And " My own heart night and day !" 
Ah, fond old Ireland ! 
Dear Old Ireland ! 
Ireland, boys, Hurra ! 

And happy and bright are the groups that pass 
From their peaceful homes, for miles 

O'er fields, and roads, and hills, to Mass, 
When Sunday morning smiles ! 


SONGS AND ror.Ms. 

Ami (loop tlie zoal their tnio hearts fool 
Wlion low tlicy kneel and pray. 
Oh, dear old Ireland! 
Blest Old Ireland ! 
Ireland, lioys, Hurra! 

But deep in Canadian woods we've met, 

And we never may see again 
The dear old isle where our hearts are set, 

And our first fond hopes remain ! 
But come, fill up another cup. 
And Avith every sup let's say — 
Here's loved old Ireland ! 
Good Old Ireland ! 
Ireland, boys, Hurra! 


Columbia the free is the land of ray birth. 
And my paths have been all on American earth ; 
But my blood is as Irish as any can be. 
And my heart is with Erin afar o'er the sea. 

My father, and mother, and fr' -nd? all around, 
Are daughters and sons of the sainted old ground — 
They rambled its bright plains and mountains 

And filled its fair valleys with laugh and with song. 


But I sing their sweet music, and often they own 
It is true to old Irehmd in style and in tone ; 
I dance their gay dances, and hear them with glee 
Say each touch tells of Erin afar o'er the sea. 

I have tufts of green shamrock in sods they 

brought o'er, 
I have shells they picked up ere they step; ed 

from the shore, 
I have books that are treasures ; the fondest 

I hold 
Is "The Melodies", clasped and nigh covered 

with gold. 

My pictures are pictures of scenes that are dear, 
For the beauties they are, or the glories they 

And of good men and great men whose merits 

shall be 
Xong the pride of green Erin afar o'er the sea. 

If I were in beautiful Dublin to-day. 
To the spots I hold sacred I'd soon find my way, 
For I know Avhere O'Connell and Curran are laid, 
And where loved Robert Emmett sleeps cold 
" in the shade". 

And if I Avere in Wexford — how fondly I'd trace 
Each field I have marked on my maps of the place, 



Where tlio brave Niuety-Eight men poured hotly 

and free 
Their blood for dear Erin afar o'er tlie soa. 

Dear homo of my fathers ! I'd hold thee to blame, 
And my cheeks would at times take the crimson 

of shame, 
Did thy sad tale not show, in each sorrow-stained 

That the might of tliy tyrant was greater than 


But her soldiers are many, abroad and at home, 
Her ships on all oceans are ploughing the foam. 
And her wealth is untold — sure no equal was she 
For poor plundered Erin afar o'er the sea. 

Yet they tell me the strife is not yet given o'er — 
That the gallant old Island will try it once more ; 
And will call, with her harj^ when her (In^ is 

Her sons, and their sons, from the ends of the 


If so, I've a rifle that's true to a hair, 

A brain that can plan and a hand that can dare ; 

And the summons will scarce have died out, when 

I'll l)e. 
Mid the green fields of Erin afar o'er the sea. 



Far far away from my native land, 
With a heavy heart and a weary hand, 
JSIy life is wasted in care and toil, 
And my bones shall lie in a foreign soil. 

I little thought that a few short yeai-s 
Would quench my bliss in a tide of tears, 
And see me fly o'er the ocean foam, 
'Like a lonely bird from a ruined home. 

The grass grows high on my cottage floor, 
The wild wind sighs through the open door ; 
The rain falls down, and the sunbeams shine. 
Through the roof that once sheltered me and mine. 

Still and cold is the hearth to-night. 

Where the song was loud, and the laugh Avas light, 

Where the neighbours came from their homes 

And a loving welcome was always found. 

Where the wife of my heart would sing to me 

The Irish music that seemed to be 

Some spirit's sighing, softly driven 

Through the golden bars of the gates of Heaven. 


But bliglit ami ruin camo down ere long, 
And quelled the laughter and hushed the song ; 
And in the hour of our deep distress 
The landloi'd's l)Osoni was merciless. 

And wc were thrown on the roadside bare, 
Where my darlings pined in the piercing air — 
To my helpless form for awhile they clung. 
But she was Avcak, and my boys were young. 

I would I were in that soft green shade, 
AVhere the grave of all that I loved 1 made, 
To end my days, and to ease my woes, 
By my dear ones' side in a long repose. 

But, alas ! far, far from my native land, 
With a heavy heart and a weary hand, 
My life is wasted in care and toil, 
And my bones shall lie in a foreign soil. 


A youth to manhood growing, 
With dark brown curls flowing. 
O'er brow and temples glowing, 

I came across the sea ; 
And now my head is hoary. 


But, land of song and story, 
Green isle of ancient glory, 

My heart is still with thee. 

Thy hopes still clung around me. 
Thy bonds for ever bound me, 
And all occasions found me 

Within the midst of those 
Whose love was ever paid thee. 
Who met to cheer and aid thee, 
And at a distance made thee 

A terror to thy foes. 

Long through this sad sojourning, 
!My heart and brain were burning 
With hopes of yet retiirning 

To Erin glad and free ; 
My hopes were unavailing, 
I feel my strength is failing, 
And still that bitter wailing 

Is drifting o'er the sea. 

But I have yet, thank Heaven, 
Four gallant sons, of seven 
My Irish wife has given, 

To soothe raj heart's decline ; 
Four youths of noble bearing. 
Of spirits high and daring. 
Whose hearts are ever sharing 

Those cherished dreams of mine. 


And sliould my dear land ev«»r 
Roncw tlie old cndeavDiir 
Her fatal bonds to sever, 

Tliough 1 can strive no more, 
Four soldiers brave I'll send her, 
To aid her and defend her, 
And thus I still can render 

Allegiance, as of yore. 

I have one gentle daughter: 
How fondly liave I taught her 
Of Erin o'er the water. 

An island green and fair ; 
And marked her bright eyes shining 
As on my knees reclining, 
I kissed her, while entwining 

Bright shamrocks in her hair. 

Her mother's songs she sings me, 
Sweet thoughts of home she brings me; 
The secret jjang that wrings me, 

Her breast can never know. 
But Irish love so purely. 
Runs through, I rest securely 
Thereon, and say that surely, 

'Twill never nurse a foe. 

But life is fading slowly. 
My friends must lay me lowly 
Far from that abbey holy 


I loved through all the past. 
The world grows dim before me 
A broad wmg closes o'er me — 
But, Erin dear that bore me, 

I love thee to the last. 


Let sages frown, let cynics sneer, 

Let heartless cowards doubt and fear, 

Let traitors barter and betray, 

And hollow friends go creep away ; 

Through sun and shade, through good and ill, 

We'll keep the Green Flag flying still. 

Till o'er the isle, at length, Ave see 

Its bright folds Avave triiunphantly ! 

Our band though small, our blades though few, 

Have met the Avorst our foe can do ; 

And if our cause could fail, Ave knoAV 

This strife had ended long ago ; 

But noAv, by all that cause has cost. 

Our sacred hope shall not be lost, 

Above this isle Ave yet shall see 

The Green Flag Avave triu.mphantly ! 

The axe, the gibbet, and the chain, 
Have done, and do their Avork in vain ; 


Our martyrs fall, our heroes bleed, 

But gallant men again succeed ; 

And, by the ashes ol' the dead. 

The tears they wept, the blood they shed, 

Above this isle we yet shall see 

The Green Flag wave triumphantly I 


" At length, brave Michael Dwyer, you and your 

tnisty men 
Are hunted o'er the mountains and tracked into 

the glen. 
Sleep not, but watch and listen ; keep ready 

blade and ball ; 
The soldiers know your hiding to-night in wild 


* The glen of Email, in the county of AVicklow, For 
a sketch of tlie adventures of Michael Dwycr, see Dr. 
Maddcn's Lives of the United Irislimen. Many were 
Dwyers hair-breadth escapes, for some of -which lie was 
indebted to the kindness of a soldier who used to give 
him timely warning when the military were on his 



The soldiers searched the valley, and towards the 

daA\-n of day 
Discovered where the outlaws, the dauntless 

rebels, lay 
Around the little cottage they form'd into a ring, 
And called out, " Michael DAvyer ! surrender to 

the king !" 

Thus answered Michael Dwyer : " Into this house 

we came, 
Unasked by those _who own it — they cannot be 

to blame. 
Then let those peaceful people unquestioned pass 

you through. 
And Avhen they're placed in safety, I'll tell you 

what Ave'll do". 

'Twas done ; " And now", said Dwyer, " your 

work you may begin. 
You are a hundred outside — we're only four 

within ; 
We've heard your haughty summons, and this 

is our reply. 
We're true United Irishmen, we'll fight until we 


Then burst the war's red lightning, then poured 

the leaden rain, 
The hills around reecho'd the thunder peals again . 

112 t)ONC.S AND l-OtMS. 

The soldiors falling round liim, brave Dwyer 

sees with |triile, 
But, ah ! one gallant comrade is wounded by his 


Yet there arc three icmaiiiing, good battle still 
to do, 

Their hands are strong and steady, their aim is 
quick and true — 

But hark that furious sliouting the savage sol- 
diers raise ! 

The house is fired around them ! The roof is in 
a blaze ! 

And brighter every moment the lurid flame arose, 
And louder swelled the laughter and cheering of 

their foes. 
Then spake the brave M'Alister, the weak and 

wounded man, 
" You can escape, my comrade?, and this shall 

be y(jur plan : 

'" Place in my hands a musket, then lie upon the 

I'll stand before the soldiers, and open wide the 

They'll pour into my bosom the tire of their 

array ; 
Then, whilst their guns are empty, dash through 

them and away !" 


He stood before his foemen, revealed amidst the 

From out their levelled pieces the wished for 

volley came. 
Up sprang the three survivors for -svhom the 

hero died, 
But only Michael D^vyer burst through the ranks 


He baffled his pursuers, who followed like the 

wind ; 
He swam the river Slaney, and left them far 

behind ; 
But many an English soldier he promised soon 

should fall, 
For these his gallant comrades who died in wild 



Brave heart, bold heart, and active brain. 

What hopes and griefs were like to thine. 
Thou patient worker, whose design 
Was wrought till promised triumph shone 
Upon its summit — then again 
Was dashed to ruin — 

Gallant Tone. 


I sec thy calm pure spirit rise 

Like some pale moon that takes its way 
Through storms that frathered all the day, 
Yet looks wheii clouds a])art have blown 
As high and holy in the skies 
And bright as ever — 

Fuitliful Tone. 

The force of earnest will, allied 
To fixed purpose, and a mind 
"Within -whose crystal depths enshrined 
The patriot's passion glowed alone, 
Or fed on all that live.l beside, 
Made up thy being — 

Fearless Tone. 

Thine was the joy to win the ear 

And strong heart of a mighty land, 
To see her stretch an armed hand 
With aid and cheering towards thine own. 
To see the tyrant pale with fear. 
And Erin hopeful — 

Gallant Tone. 

And thine the nameless grief to see 

The vision fade — the wild night fall, 
The storm burst fiercely forth, and all 
Thy life-long labour overthrown, 
The worst itself no worse could be 
To thy proud spirit — 

Hnploss Tone. 



A certain planet in the sky, 

The star-seers often had perceived 
Was much perturbed, they knew not why, 

'Twas their mistake, they first believed. 
They blamed their glasses, blamed the Avay 

They'd taken down theii- observations, 
And alyjost all agreed to say 

The fault was in their calculations. 

But one, the keen Le Yerrier, thought 

It was a fact, and had a cause 
That might be found, if calmly sought, 

In nature's grand, eternal laws ; 
He said the orb inclined and swayed 

To some vuaknown, but strong attraction ; 
And, by a cool synthesis, made 

A caiise to suit it to a fraction. 

He said, there is — there must have been — 

Another planet circling near ; 
A planet I have never seen, 

But I'll engage the thing is there. 
'Tis such a weight, and such a size, 

In such a line, at such a distance, 
Whoever seeks as I advise, 

Will soon perceive ita bright existence. 


1 ir, SON(iS AND rOF.MS. 

He wrote to Berlin to a man 

Whose fame was known the earth around, 
And showed by logic, map, and plan, 

Where this new world should then be found. 
The learned German turned his glass 

Upon the space so clearly given, 
And soon the orb was seen to pass 

Amid the shining hosts of heaven. 

A curious tale, and true beside ; 

But here, as well as up on high, 
I think the rule may be applied 

To finding more than meets the eye. 
There's my friend Ned — I made, one night, 

A few such simple observations, 
And soon found out the body bright 

That causes all his perturbations. 

There's witty, gay, and pretty John, 

I've also found the hidden force 
That sways his path, and draws him on 

In such a wild, eccentric course. 
Poor Dick ! his centripetal strength 

Was never great. One day we missed him, 
And on Le Verrier's plan, at length, 

I've found him in another system. 

In short I find in every case, 

The Frenchman's reasoning just and true, 


Not only in the fields of space, 

But on our dusty planet too. 
And when I see a strange effect, 

However long and well I've conned it, 
I'll always strive to recollect. 

How bright a cause may lie beyond it. 


There's not a print-shop windoAV in the city 
Without its stock of " valentines" displayed ; 

All sorts and sizes. Some are rather witty. 
And others scarcely civil, I'm afraid. 

Each with a verse of some appropriate ditty. 
To suit the kind or cruel man or maid ; 

And some are frightful — sure such horrid features 

Were never seen on any hiunan creatures. 

First, here's the genus " Swell" — a class of thing 
I have not found in Buffon or Linnauis. 

The waist of each would fit into a ring ; 

The head of each, perhaps, holds three ideas. 

With pretty lisp each seems to say or sing — 
"I wonder, demme, do the girls see us! 

We surely must look stunnin now, good gracious. 

With these cigars stuck deep in our moustachios". 


Next comos that perfect lieaiity, young Miss 

Bedizened in tlic liighest style of art ; 
Indeed a man woidd think it quite a sin he 

Shoukl ever spoil her dress against liis heart. 
Dear tender soul, who dotes upon Bellini, 

And boastsno small acquaintance with Mozart — 
In short, who lives in one perpetual jingle 
Of "Take this ring", "All's lost", and "Do not 
" mingle". 

And here are sylvan landscapes — woods and 

With pretty nooks Avhcrein to sigh or swear, 
And breechless Cupids roving through the flowers, 

The rosy urchins seeming not to fear 
The bitter winds and long-continued showers 

Of this inclement season of the year, 
But playing off their pranks and evolutions. 
Regardless of their little constitutions. 

Then here are buildings they've contrived so neatly, 
The doors and windows can be opened wide, 

And at a single glance yoix see completely 
"Whatever may be going on inside. 

I'erhaps the question has been murmured sweetly. 
Perhaps the lady's fainted and replied — 

Or it may be, Papa in sobs addressing 

The happy youth, saying " Take her, with my 


Behold a church — the holy knot is tying 
Within its walls as tight as tight can be ; 

And here's a cottage — turtle doves are flying 
About the roof and on from tree to tree ; 

The very flowers upon the wall seem trying 
The precious thing Avithin the room to see. 

You look, and find (a slight anticipation) 

A pretty, plump young "lord of the creation". 

But none of these will suit me, and I fear 
My love must do without a valentine ; 

.But stop an instant — yes, go bring me here 

That box of colours and those sheets of mine ; 

I feel an artist's impulse 1 declare 

I'll execute my own sublime design — 

Oh ! honoured ghosts of all the great Italians, 

Now crowd aroimd me in your bright battalions ! 

Inspire my heart and guide my daring hand, 

Eafiaelle, Buonarotti, Cimabue ! 
Give me a little of your old command 

O'er all the lights and shades of every hue. 
Oh, bear my soul away to Fancy-land — 

But bring it back — be very sure you do. 
For some one here — nor do I mean to doubt it — 
Declares, indeed, she could not do without it. 

Dear little maiden, vain is all endeavour 

To paint the love my heart would send to thee. 


I'll only say, that heart is thine for ever, 
Tliat love is deep as human love can be. 

I'll only tell thee, pen or pencil never 

Drew form so fair and dear as thine to mc, 

And these fond truths, I know, will please thcc 
1 letter 

Than smart quotations or a pictured letter. 


"When I was young and sentimental, 

And my head was, day and night, 
Filled with fancies transcendental. 

Dazzled with the Poet's light. 
Well, said I, I'll love for ever, 

But I'll never wed, unless 
I shall meet some very clever, 

Gentle, thoughtful. Poetess. 

In the course of my researches, 

I confess I met a few 
Boasting of some household vii-tues. 

Let me see ! — some one or two 
Knew the current price of mutton, 

Some coidd make a paste or pie. 
Others sew a loosened button — 

Not the thing for me, said I. 


Yet I never minded sobbing, 

For, like Lamartinc, I knew 
That a heart was somewhere throbbing 

To my own Avith pulses true ; 
But the thing was how to get it, 

Long I thought, but could not guess, 
And I own I somewhat fretted 

For my gentle Poetess. 

But I found her; oh, I found her! 

'Tis no matter where or how, 
Such a brightness all around her ! 

Such a light upon her brow ! 
Ask not sate she at a window 

With a sampler or a book, 
Did I take her for Belinda, 

Or the ghost of Lalla Rookh. 

Ask not did I woo her kneeling, 

Did I rather choose to stand — 
Did I pour a flood of feeling 

In the style of Madame Sand ; 
Heed not had she much of Norah 

Creina in her silken dress, 
Or the visage of Medora ; 

But I found my Poetess. 

Ah ! the vulgar way of doing 

Such a work as ours that night — 

lo'2 SuMiS AM) roKJis. 

Uli, llu- juy, tlie bliss of •wooing 

At a tnie poetic lieiglit! 
Briglit ideas interchanging, 

^N'inj^dd fancies flitting by, 
Glorious thouplits for ever ranging 

From our jilanet to the sky ! 

Thrillings, throb])iugs, sweet sensations, 

Airy strains divinely mixed — 
Halos, flashes, scintillations, 

Suns and systems, loose and fixed^ 
Floated round us, seemed to pass us, 

Oh, the nameless happiness 
Of making love on Mount Parnassus 

To a gentle Poetess ! 

Yet at times through all my pleasure 

Kan a vague mysterious fear. 
Lest the Gods should see my treasure, 

Lest some spirit hovering near 
With more than human passion burning, 

Should take her off, his home to bless. 
And leave me musically mourning 

For my gentle Poetess. 

But they well declined comniitti/ig 
Such a grievous piece of wrong. 

And I won her in befitting 
Snatches of extatic song. 


Tliose who doubt or question whetlicr 

I was wise, or acted well, 
Let them come along together 

To the cottage where we dwell. 

Enter here — no power refuses 

Though he come from halls above ; 
'Tis the temple of the Muses 

And the sweet abode of Love. 
Never heed the small confusion, 

Who could well expect it less, 
In the dignified seclusion 

Of a gifted Poetess ? 

Playing with the fender irons, 

Scratching at each other's eyes, 
See the httle Moores and Byrons, 

Hear theii- laughter and their cries ! 
See them cut then- little capers 

Till they get some rapid smacks. 
For disturbing all the papers. 

On their faces, or their backs. 

Hear Letitia Hemans Browning 

Loudly squalling to be fed, 
See young Scott take like a drowning 

Hold of cross Childe Harold's head. 
You can't see our little Dryden, 

Being gone to sleep, I guess. 


lie's the one I ought to pride in, 
Says my gentle Poetess. 

Shelly is to get a powder, 

He's not well, I grieve to say, 
And his cries, though there are louder, 

Pierce me in a dreadful way. 
Little Pope, I fear, will never 

Very tall or healthy be, 
Meeting accidents for ever, 

Most unfortunate is he. 

Then of course -we've nymphs attendant, 

Luna seeks in spite of fate 
To keep the fender quite resplendant, 

And raise a polish on the grate. 
There you see our blooming Hebd, 

Unto whose especial care 
"We confide our precious baby, 

Paying two pounds ten a year. 

Then there's Mercury, her first cousin. 

And Egeria, of the springs, 
"Who does our washing by the dozen, 

And never counts the bal)y things. 
There are also other graces, 

I must say a loving three, 
But they've advertised for " places", 

And they'll soon be leaving me. 


Well, howe'er the world may view it, 

Call it trouble, tumult, noise, 
I am quite accustomed to it, 

And I love my girls and boys. 
Should a youth to-day come seeking 

Hints from me on happiness, 
I should tell him, plainly speaking, 

Win a gentle Poetess. 


Note 1, Page 5. 
"Shoots of the grand old Spanish vine". 

In a letter of Donal O'Sullivan to tlie King of Spain, 
wliich is printed in tlie Pacata Hibernia (an autlientic 
account of the wars of Queen Elizabetli in Ireland, com- 
piled by Sir George Carew, Lord President of Munster, 
afterwards Earl of Totness, who was one of the cliief 
■actors in those wars), the following passage occurs : — 

" We the meere Irish long sithence deriving our roote 
and originall from the famous and most noble race 
of the Spaniards: viz., from Milecius, sonne to Bile, 
Sonne to Breogwin, and from Lwighe, sonne to Lythy, 
Sonne to Breogwin, by the testimony of our old ancient 
bookes of antiquities, our Petigrees, our Histories, and 
our Cronicles. Though there were no other matter, wee 
came not as naturall branches of the famous tree, whereof 
we grew, but beare a hearty loue, and naturall affection, 
and intire inclination of our hearts and minds to our 
ancient most loving kingsfolkes, and the most noble race 
whereof we descended". 

This Breogwin, grandfiither to Milesius, was one of the 
Kings of Spain. About 1,000 years before the Christian 
era the three sons of Milesius led an expedition into Ire- 
land, The names of the three brothers were Heber, 
Heremon, and Ir. They divided the country between 
them. Heremon had Leinster and Connaught ; Ir had 
Ulster; Heber had Munster. In the second century of 
the Christian era, Eogan More, King of Munster, one of 
the descendants of the Heber above mentioned, was 
married to the Spanish Princess Beara, daughter to 
Heber, King of Castile. By this marriage Eogan More 
had a son, OilioU Olum, who became King of Munster. 
OilioU had tlu-ee sons — Eogan, Coruiac Cas, and Kian. 

158 nijtks to dunuoy. 

From Kian were (ksi'ciulcd the clnn Kinii ; from Cormac 
Ciis, the Dalcassians; froiii Ko^'aii, the Eu^'oiiianc The 
O'SuUivans are of tlie Eugeniaii Une, and took their 
name from Siiileahhan, one of their chiefs, in the tenth 
century. — Fruin tht notes to L'onneUuns Edition oj the 
Four Masters. 

Note 2, Pa(/e 10. 

" And cliocrcd wltli like rewards their work 
Who Hglit the Saxon and the Turk". 

Pope Gregory XIII. (a.d. 1580) granted to all who 
should fight against tiie Knglisli in Ireland an induljjence, 
of wliicii he said — ''Thi.s is tlie same indulgence as that 
which was imparted to tliose who fought against the 
Turks for tlie recovery of tlie Holy Land". Some years 
subsequently (ad. liiOO) l\)j)e Clement VIII. sent similar 
indulgences to Ireland, ami sent a present of a plume of 
phoenix feathers to Hugh O'Neill, the leader of the 
patriot forces. Judging from the religious and rever- 
ential character of Donal O'Sullivan, as revealed in his 
letters, those facts nmst have powerfully influenced him 
in his opposition to the Enghsh power in Ireland. 

. Note 3, Pof/e 10. 

" What thouch in London's cloomy tower 
Desmond and brave iiueCarthy pine". 

" The Catholic cause suffered considerably at tliis time 
by the arrest of James, son of Thomas Fitzgerald, com- 
monly called Earl of Desmond, and Florence .MacCarthy, 
of the illustrious houseof Mac Carthy Kiagh, who had mar- 
ried the daughter and heiress of Mac Carthy More, Baron 
of Valentia, and Earl of Clancar". — MacGeoyheyau's His- 
tory iif IriUitul. The J'acatd contains a curious history 
of the " luggling" of this Florence ilacCarthy. He cer- 
tainly appears to have played fast and loose with both 
parties, but the cause to which he was really attached 
was that of his countr}' ; and of all men Carew ought to 
be the last to compla.n indignanlly of a Uttle "juggling". 

For a full account of the above-mentioned and th« 
other Earls of Desmond, see the History of the GeraU 


dines by Brother Dominicus O'Daly, a translatiou of 
which, by the Eev. C. F. Meehan, has beeu pubUshed by 
James Duffy. 

Note i, Page 10. 

" We spurn her peace, we cast away 
Her patent for our fathers" lands". 

" III the twelfth year of the reign of Queen Eh'zabeth, 
Sir Owen O'Sullivan, in order to estabUsh a sul)stantiai 
title to the countries he then held, surrendered tlieni to 
the Queen, and received a formal grant thereof by patent. 
This measure gave rise to a long suit at law between Sir 
Owen and his nephew Donal McUonal O'Sullivan, the 
latter of whom endeavoured to prove that his uncle had 
usurped the possession at the death of his (Donal's) 
father. The suit terminated by a letter of partition, 
•dated January, 1593, under the Great Seal, being issued 
to plot out the lands and castles of Bere, Bantry, Ardea, 
and others belonging to the O'Sullivans. The castles 
and dependencies of Bere were alotted to Donal, and 
Bantry, etc., to Sir Owen". — Wild's Killarnei/. 

Note 5, Page 19. 

" Swoid and spear 
They stuck into the ground upright, 
And blest with many a form and prayer". 

That this manner of blessing their arms was a custom 
of the Irish in those and in earlier days, is stated by one 
of the Anglo-Irish chroniclers. 

Note 6, Page 24. 

" First of the ranks still firm and trne 
Were Donal's, Beara's gallant few". 

O'Sullivan's little force was amongst those who mada 
the most determined fight on the disastrous day of Kin- 
sale and when the battle was lost, it bravely protected 
some of the retreating troops of the northern chieftains, 
who but for such protection would have suffered more 
severely than thej did. 


Xute 7, J^uyc 2i. 

" 'Twiu long foretold, the wine men say''. 

Carew, in tlio Pnmiii Ililn-niin, liaving given an ac- 
count of the dc-leat of the Irish and Spaniards at Ivinsale, 
says: — '• AUhdu^'h tki man is lesse credulous tlian my- 
selfe is of idk' prophesii'S, the most whereof arc coyned 
after things are done, yit I maiie bold to relate this which 
succeeds, for long time before the thing I speake of was 
brought to light : myselfe was an eye-witncsse when it 
was reported ; in concealing it 1 should wrong the trueth, 
which makes mee bold to remember it. Many times 1 
did heare tiie Earle of TliDmond tell the Lord I'resident 
that in an old booke of Irish i)rophesies which hee had 
scene, it was reported that towards the latter dayes there 
should bee a battell fought betweene the English and the 
Irish in a place which the booke nameth, ncere unto 
Kinsalc. 'i he Earle of 'Ihomond comming out of Eng- 
land, and landing first at Castlehaven, and after at Kin- 
sale, as aforesaid : in the time of the siege myselfe and 
divers others heard him again report the prophesie to 
the President, and named the place where (according to 
the prophesie) the field should bee fought. The diiy 
whereupon the victorie was obtained, the Eord President 
and the Earle rode out to see the dead bodies of the van- 
quished, and the President asked some that were there 
present by what name that ground was called ; they not 
knowing to what end hee did tlemand it, told him the 
true name thereof, which was the same which the Earle 
80 often before had reported to the President. 1 beseech 
the reader to belieue mee, for 1 deliver nothing but trueth : 
but as one swallow makes no summer, so shall not this 
one true prophesie increase my credulitie iu old predic- 
tions of that kinde". 

Nute 8, Page 32. 

"No plot is spumed, no bribe is spared, 
No darli device of traitor url". 

Carew, as we learn from his own account of himself, 
was a consummate rogue. Jn his work, the Pacata llibcr- 
tiia, he has given us n;aiiy specimens of his subtlety and 
dishonesty. When he had arrived at JJantry, on his 


way to besiege Dunboy, he wrote a letter to the Spanish 
gunners who remained with O'Sullivan, informing them 
that if, when the Enghsh forces were in front of the 
castle, they would leave it and come to his camp, he 
would have them passed safely into Spain. '' This above 
■written", said he, " I am obhged by my promise to Don 
Juan to fulfil. But if you haue a desire to finde or reciue 
further favours at my hands, you may with facilitie 
deserue it, that is, when you leaue the castle to cloy the 
Ordnance, or mayme their Carriages, that when they 
shall haue need of them they may prooue uselesse, for 
the Avhich I will forthwith liberally recompense you 
answerable to the qualitie of jour merit". The Spaniards 
despised the traitorous proposition, and fought their 
guns to the last. Again it is clear from the terms in 
which the affair is spoken of in the Pacata, and from 
the character of Carew, that in the interview held a few 
daj'S previous to the siege with Kichard MacGeohegan 
'on'Bere Island, an endeavour was made to seduce that 
brave and faithful chieftain from tlie service of O'Sullivan. 
But in this case, as in that of the Spaniards, the effort 
proved of no avail. After the capitulation at Kinsale, 
while Don Juan, who had commanded the Spanish 
forces there, was on the most friendly terras with 
him, Carew exercised his talents by practising on the 
Spaniard a gross deception and violation of faith. A 
messenger having arrived from Sjtain with some let- 
ters from the liing and others, and " the Lord Deputies 
(Mountjoy's) heart itching to have the letters in his 
hands, he prayed the President (Carew) to intercept 
them if he could handsomely doe it". Carew readily 
undertook the job. He got the messenger waylaid and 
robbed ; he took the letters at once to the Deputy, and 
when both had read them, returned to dine with his 
guest Don Juan ! When the messenger, who had been 
robbed, arrived and told his tale, the Don complained 
bitterly to the Lord Deputy, but that worthy personage 
" seemed no less sorry ; but (said he) it is a common 
thing in all armies to haue debauclit souldiers, but hee 
thought it to bee rather done by some of the country 
thieues ; but if the fact was committed by souldiers, it 
was most like to bee done by some Irish men". The 
Don however strongly suspected Carew, and said so, but 

1C2 NOTES TO orNnoY. 

the Doputv declared him innocent. In the eml tlic pair 
of rojjues offered a larve reward for the discovery uf tho 
rohher ! Tlie means eniploved by (!arew for tiie capture 
of the Karl of Dismon.l were in perfect kcepinK' witli the 
forej;oiii;;. Aiul on such transjiclionsas these bir George 
pridi.d himself very hij,'hly. 

Xote 9, Pa</e 40. 

" I have lost 
Ancestral liiTids nnrt ciu<tks fair". 
The MacGeofihegans had hi«i» rank and largo pos- 
sessions in the County of Meath, all which they lost in 
the long succession oi" wars which desolated that part 
of the country. 

N'ote 10, Po(/e 4C. 
" Owpii Miicr.Kjjan, blest of God, 
And faithrul fiiar Ncule". 

On the fith of June, the day on which the English 
annv diseinharked on the mainland, the defenders of 
Duiihoy received intelligence that on the previous night 
a Spanish ship with succours for them had arrived at 
Ardea, in the bay of Kenmare. '" Some Irish passengers 
was in her (says the Pnnitu), namely, a fryar lames 
Nelaiie, a I'homond man belonging to Sir Tirlogii O'Brien, 
who had charge of the treasun-; Owen MacEggan, the 
I'ope's liishop of Kosse, and his ]'ir(iriiis Apustolkus, 
with letters to sundry rebels and twelve thousand 
pounds. . . The distribution of the money by appoint- 
ment in Spaine was left principally to the disposition 
of Donnell O'Sulevan Beare, Owcii MacKggan, lames 
Archer, and some others''. This same Bishop .MacEggan 
was subsequently killed near Bandon, lighting gallantly 
with his sword in one hand and his beads in the other. 
Ills rcmaius were buried in the abljey of Timoleague. 

Xole 1 1 , Pago 53. 

" One hundred men and forly-four 
In those nuriow lialls, not a mortal more; 
Four thousand foenien round them". 

Carew says the army with which he set out from Cork 


for Dunboy " was in list neere three thousand, but by 
pole not exceeding fifteene hundred". This force was 
however recruited on its march, in accordance with his 
(Carew's) directions to " draw all the forces in the province 
to a head against them" (O'SuIlivan and his friends). Xear 
Bantry the army was joined by the regiment of Sir 
Charles VVilmot, who had been prosecuting the war in 
Kerry. Wilmot's force was "one thousand and seven 
hundred foote in list, but by pole very weak". It is 
therefore probable that the besieging force amounted in 
round numbers to about 4,000, which is the number given 
by Mitchel in his life of Hugh 0"NeilI. The num- 
ber of defenders Mithin the castle is set down by the 
Pacata Hibernia as 143. Another account says 144, 
which does not greatly alter the proportion or dispropor- 
tion between the forces. 

Note 12, page 55. 

"Their guns from yonder rounded strand, 
Their battery fiom tlie raimntain slope". 

Two guns were placed on a point of land on the north 
side of that on which the castle stood ; four guns were 
placed on a height to the west of the castle, and it was 
this latter battery that beat it into ruins. From the 
moment those guns were planted the fall of the castle 
was a matter of certainty. Most of the castles in Ire- 
land, at that time, had been built to resist small arms 
only ; when attacked with cannon, they wei'e easily 

Note 13, Page 61. 

" But I hope that my name 
In our annals of fame 

Will be set in a small piece of writing". 

This was not an unusual wish amongst Irish warriors; 
and in the Pacata Hibernia, amongst other documents 
connected with the defenders of Dunboy, is given a letter 
written the night before his execution by one John Anias 
to the Baron of Lixnaw, in which is the following pas- 
sage : — 

"As ever I aspire to immortalize my name upon the 

It '.4 NOTES TO nrNBOV. 

Karth, so I would request you, by virtue of that ardent 
affection I liiul toward you in my life, you woulil lionour 
my deatii in nialcing mention of my name in tlie register 
of your country". 

Tliis Jolin Anias was one "who concieved himself to 
be a p'od Intieiiiere", as also, it would appear, did '" lames 
Archer, lesuit" ; letters from l)0tii of whom, referring to 
tlie fortilication of Dunboy, are given in the I'ucata. 

Note M,Pngc 73. 
" IIo, Marshall, bear him to the block I" 

" Vpon the fall tiiereof the enemy sent out a messenger 
offering to surrender the place, if they might haue their 
lives and depart with their armes, and a pledge given for 
the assurance thereof. Neverthelesse they continued 
shooting all tlic while the messenger was coming bc- 
twccne them and us, whose message being delivered, the 
Lord President turneil him over to the Marshall, by 
whose direction hee was executed" — P<tc. Ilih. 

Tlie bloodthirsty ferocity of this Carew and his army 
was unrestrained by any feeling of honour or humanity. 
The messenger from the castle should have been sent 
back when his terms were rejected, but rarely could 
Carew have an enemy in his power and not kill him. 
This will appear to any one who reads even his own ac- 
count of Ids proceedings. 

Note 15, Pci(ie 77. 
" Bold O'More wus seen to labour", etc. 
Mellaghlan Moore, who was one of three soldiers who 
leaped from off a vault of the castle and was immv diately 
slain, was, says Carew, " the man that layed hands first 
ujwn the Earle of Ormond, and i)lucked him from his 
horse, when he was taken prisoner by Owhny Mac 

Note 16, Payc 84. 

" Firm in my hand the trusty lance 
Grasped fur tlie holy Leajjue of France". 

" A Fryer, borne in Yoghall, called Dominickc Collins, 
who hail been brought Up in tiie Warres of Fraunce, and 
there under the League had been a Commander of Horse 
in liritanny" — J\tc. Ifih. 


Note 17, Page 93. 
" Friends and foes at once sliall I 
Hurl in one blast tow'ids the sky". 

" Then MacGeohagan, chiefe commander of the place, 
being mortally wounded with divers shntt in his body, 
the rest made choise of one Thomas Taylor, an English 
mans Sonne (the dearest and inwardest man with Tirrell, 
and married to his Neece), to be their chiefe, who having 
nine barrels of powder, drew himselfe and it into the 
Vault, and there sate downe by it, with a light match in 
his hand, vowing and protesting to set it on fire, and 
blow up the Castle, himselfe, and all the rest, except they 
might haue promise of life" — Pac. Hib. 

Note 18-, Page 9G. 
" That eve within the Saxon's camp 

The headsman's strokes continued long, 
With a steady champ, like a measured tramp, 
For the clansmen's bones were stout and strong". 

" The same day fiftie-eight were executed in the Mar- 
ket-place, but the Fryar, Taylor, and one Tirlagh Roe 
MacSwiney, a follower unto Sir Tirlagh O'Brian, and 
twelue more of Tirrells chiefe men, the Lord President 
reserved ahue to trie whether he could draw them to doe 
some more acceptable service than their lives were worth. 
The whole number of the ward consisted of one hundred 
and fortie-three selected fighting men, being the best 
choice of all their Forces, of the which no one man 
escaped, but were either slaine, executed, or buried in 
the mines, and so obstinate and resolved a defence had 
not bin scene within this Kingdome" — Pac. Hib. 

Tirrell endeavom-ed to negociate with Carew to spare 
the lives of his twelve men. "Answer was returned to him, 
and a stratagem propounded, in tlie effecting thereof he 
should obtain pardon and libertie for himself and his 
dependants". What piece of vilhiiny this " stratngem" 
was, Carew does not inform us ; but " the reply which he 
made thereunto was, that he would ransome the Prisoners 
with money, if that might be accepted ; but to be false to 
the lung of Spaine (whom liee termed his master), or to 
betray the Catholicke cause, hee would never ; upon 
which answer his twelve men (before respited) two dayes 
after were executed". Taylor was carried on to Cork, 


where he wiu hange>l in chains, and Father Collins, who 
woulil not '' endeavour to inerite Iiia life by discovering 
the Hehel's intentions (which wa-s in liis power;, or by 
doing of some service that nii>,'ht deserve favour, was 
liiinged at Yough.dl, tlie Towne wliere he was borne". 

Note — *, p(i>/e 99. 

"Brothers tliclr brotlicrs" blood betray, 
And clan on clun workH ruin, while 
The common foe wins ull tlie isle". 

A glance into the historj* of those times will but too 
fully tn'iir out the statement in the lines above quoted, 
in any cjuntry circumstances similar to those in wiiicli 
Ireland then placed would produce like results. Hut, 
however this may be, the English policy of "divide and 
concjuer" worlced its way amongst the O'SuIlivans as 
well as amongst other native families. 

When Donal took up arms for his religion and country, 
Owen, son to Sir Owen (mentioned in note i), was led to 
think that In- remaining attaclud to the Knglish govern- 
ment, and by aiding the expedition of Carew against 
Duidjoy, he would get the partition which had been 
made in his father's time (juashed, and the land of Beare 
granted to him. ^lore than twelve months before the 
English army proceeded to the siege of Dunboy, the Lord 
President of Munster, Sir George Carew, despatched the 
Earl of Tliomond with a force of " 2,.000 foote in list, to 
make tryall whether the rebels in the countrey of Carbery 
would submit themselves upon the siyht of an army". 
Amongst the instructions given to the Earl on this occa- 
sion were the following : — 

" The service you are to pcrforme is to do all your 
ciiileavour to Ijurne the rebels Come in Carbery, Beare, 
and Bantry, take their cowes, and to use all hostile pro- 
secution upon the persons of the iJcople, as iu such eases 
of rebellion is accustomed. 

" When you are in Beare (if you may without any ap- 
parent perill) your lordship shall doc well to take a view 
of the castle of Dunboy, whereby wee may be the better 
instructed how to proceed for the taking of it, when time 
convenient shall be affurded. 

* V,y a inist.iltc-, no rcfi-ie. cr. fgiire was jjut to those li::ei in tlie 


"Giue all the comfort you may to Owen O'Sulevan, 
by whose means you know the affaires of those parts will 
best be composed". 

Thomond proceeded to Bantry as directed, burned the 
rebels' corn in famous fasliion, gave much wordy comfort 
to Owen O'SuUivan, but decided tliat there was " appa- 
rent perill" in attempting to get near Dunboy, inasmuch 
as Doiial with a strong force stood in his way at Glen- 
gariffe. He contented liimself witli strengthening tlie 
garrison of Captain Flower at Bantry, and placing an- 
other garrison on Whiddy Island; he tlien returned to 
Carew with his report of the state of " affairs in those 
parts". Very soon after his departure Donal e.xpelled liis 
garrison from Whiddy Island. Owen O'Sullivan assisted 
in the reduction of Donal's forts on the Dursey Island, 
which was accomplished during the early days of the 
siege of Dunboy. It is no wonder he was a wiUing 
leader in that expedition, as his wife Avas then, and had 
for three months pi'eviously been, a prisoner in one of 
the forts. The Pucata does not say that Owen assisted 
at the siege of Uunboy it^^elf lie captured, however, for 
the English the castle of Dunmanus, " and tooke the prey 
and spoyle of tlie townc". The writer has not learned 
what was his reward in the end. Most probably it was 
to have " prey and spoyle" taken from himself, to fail 
of getting his cousin Donal's possessions, and to lose 
his own. 

Note 19, Page 100. 

"And many a stutely keep and dun 
Back from their Irish allies won". 

" The fall of Dunboy did not prevent the Prince of 
Beare from still acting a brave and noble part. Dermod 
O'DriscoU being returned from Spain, Cornelius, son of 
O'UriscoU More, was sent to solicit speedy assistance ; in 
the meantime the Prince and Captain Tirrell marched 
with a thousand men into Muskerry, and made them- 
selves masters of Carriag-na-Chori, Duin Dearaire, and 
Mocrumpe, where they placed a garrison, after which 
he prevailed upon O'Donoghue of the Glinne to join the 
confederacy; he made incursions into the districts of 


Cork, niul returned loaded with booty". — MucGcnghc- 
pnn''s llistori/ of Irelnud, vol. III. e;ip. xlv. 

Note 20, Pxfie. 101. 

"Troops unkcpt by fiirel^rn aid. 
Would famlsli in the wasted lund". 

The desolation of Munstor, and of other parts of Ire- 
hind, at this time was frightful. Ilolinshed, Spenser, 
Davies, and others, pive terrible pictures of it. The 
former says, " Tiie whole country having no cattle nor 
kine left, they (the Iri.^h) were driven to such extremi- 
ties that, for want of victuals, they were either to die and 
perish by famine, or to die under the sword". And again, 
having spoken of tiie great nundiers slain, he says : 
"After this followed an extreme famine, and such whom 
the sword did not destroy, the same did consume and eat 
out, for they were not only driven to eat horses, dogs, 
and dead carrions, but they also did devour the carciisses 
ofde.idmen. . . . The land itself, which before these 
wars was populous, well-inhabited, and rich in all the 
good blessings of God, ... is now become waste and 
barren, yielding no fruits, the pastures no cattle, the air 
no birds . . . Whosoever did travel from the one end to 
the other of all Munster . . he would not meet with any 
man, woman, or child, saving in towns and cities, nor yet 
see any beast, but the very wolves, the foxes, and other 
ravening beasts, and many of them lay dead, being fa- 
misliL'd, and the residue gone elsewhere". Spenser says: 
" Out of every corner of the woods and glynns they (the 
Irish) came creeping forth upon their hands, for their 
legs could not bear them ; they looked like anatonues of 
death ; they spnke like ghosts crying out of their graves ; 
they did eat tlie dead carrions, happy when tliey could 
find them — yea, and one another soon after, insomuch as 
the very carcasses tlicy si)ari'd ivt to scrape out of their 
graves, and if they found a i)lot of watercr^'sses or sham- 
rocks, there they Hocked as to a feast for the time, ye 
not long able to continue there withal, that in a short 
space there were none almost left, and a most populous 
and plentiful country suddenly left void of man and 


Note 21, Page 102. 

" He robbed the eaglets of their fond 
To feed the young O'SuUivans". 

This is a well-preserved tradition in Beare and Bantry. 

Note 22, Page 105. 
"They fought by day, they fought at night". 
In giving an account of the flight of O'Sullivan into 
Ulster, the Four Masters say : "He was not a day or 
night during that space without encountering desperate 
conflicts and severe pursuits, which were valiantly and 
promptly resisted by him". A detailed account of the 
flight is given in the annals, and in the Historic Catho- 
llcoe Ibeniue Compendium of Don Philip O'Sullivan Beare. 
The Abbe MacGeoghegan, in his History of Ireland, 
says^: " We read nothing more like to the expedition of 
Young Cyrus and the Ten Thousand Greeks, than this 
retreat of O'Sullivan Beare". 

Note 23, Page 108. 
" Turned from the bloody field, and fled". 

" Neverthelesse, when they saw that they must make 
Iheir way by the sword or perish, they gave a braue 
charge upon our men, in the which Captain Malby was 
Blaine, upon whose fall Sir Thomas and his troops, faint- 
ing, with the losse of many men, studied their safeties by 
flight, and the rebels, with little harme, marched into 
Orwyke countrey'' — Pac. Hih. 

" O'Sullivan made an onset, with rage and anger, with 
fury and vehemence, towards the place where the English 
were, for against them was excited his entire vengeance 
and animosity, and he did not stop until he gained the 
place where he beheld their commander, and he fiercely 
and quickly cut ofi" the head of the noble Englishman, 
namely, the son of Captain Malby ; that collected force 
was afterwards defeated, and a great number of them 
were slain, and it is doubtful if the like number of a 
force, fatigued after a long march, and encompassed by 
their enemies as they Avere, performed such an exploit as 
they achieved that day in defence of their lives and re- 
nown" — AnnaJs of the Four Masters. 



Note 2i, Par/c 110. 
"In Siiaiii, lil(^li jiliccil be.tidc the king". 

" O'Neill, 0'I)onncll,(J'Siillivan Bcare, nnd some otlicr 
Irish ciiiefs went the next summer to England to make 
their submission to James I , who had just succeeded 
Elizabeth, and to compliment him uiwn his accession to 
the throne of Knglaiul. O'Sullivan being unable to ob- 
tain his pardon, sailed for Spain, ami was well received 
by King i'liilip III., who created him knight of the mili- 
tary order of St. lago, and afterwards Earl of Bere- 
haven" — Mac (iioijln 'i<ius Jli.stun/. 

O'Sullivan received from tiie King of Spain a pension 
of 30i) pieces of gold monthly. The manner of hia death 
is thus told by his cousia Thilip, in his Catholic Uia- 
tory :— 

" But the last stroke of adverse fortune befell thus : — 
On the eigiiteenth day of the same month (July, 1G08), 
O'Sullivan, i'rince of lieare, in whom all the hopes of )the 
Irish at that time were placed, uniiappily perisiied in this 
manner. John Bath, an Anglo-Irishman, and one whom 
O'Sullivan held in very high esteem— even to the extent 
of taking him under his personal protection, bestowing 
many favours upon him, and even admitting him to his 
own table in the circle of his most intimate friends — quite 
ungrateful for such high favours, carried his presump- 
tion so far as that when a discussion arose touching some 
money advanced by oSuUivan as a loan, he, Bath, dared 
to make unfavourable comparisons between a family, 
one of the most illustrious among the Irish, and the 
English, from whom he himself was sprung. Philip, the 
■writer of tiiis history, a cousin of O'Sullivan {P/tili/>pus, 
0\'Sullic(tm paliuclis), unable to endure this insult, ex- 
postulated with Bath upon the matter. The dispute 
proceeded so far that they attacked each other with 
drawn swords, at a royal monastery, not far from Ma- 
drid. In this contest, Bath, terror-stricken, kept re- 
treating, shouting at the same time. I'hilip wounded 
him in the face, and, as it appears, would have slain him, 
had not Edmund O'Moore and Geralil McMorris (sent 
by O'Sullivan), and two Spanish knights, protected liim, 
and rhilip would have been himself arrested by aeon- 
stable, but for their interference. When many were 


attracted to the spot by the quarrel, among others came 
O'SulUvan, a rosary in his left hand. Whilst thus incau- 
tious, fearing nothing, and looking in quite another 
direction, Bath approached him through the crowd, 
struck hiai through the left shoulder, and again piercing 
him through the throat, killed iiim. Philip hid himself 
in the house of the French ambassador, Marquis Se- 
neccia from the constable, who vainly sought hin. Rath 
was cast into prison, together with a relation of his, 
Francis Bath, who chanced to be present at the struggle. 
A relation to Pliilip, called O'Driscoll, was also impri- 
soned. U'Sullivan's interment, on the next day, was 
attended by a large concourse of Spanish nobles. He 
Avas lifty-seven years old at his death. He was an ex- 
tremely pious, and a benevolent man to poor and needy, 
He was accustomed to hear two or three masses each 
day, and to spend a considerable time in prayer to God. 
He was tall and well built, with pleasing features". 

In our modern Irish literature, Philip O'Sullivan, 
author of the Catholic History, has often been described 
as the son of Donal, the hero of Dunboy. Such descrip- 
tion is incorrect. The father of Philip was Dermot 
O'Sullivan (a first cousin of Donal). The fact is repeat- 
edly stated by Philip in his work, and a full account of 
his family is given by him in one of his poems, which is 
prefixed to the Dublin edition of the Cathohc History. 

J. F. FowLEE, rrinter, 3 Crow Street, Dame Street, Dublin. 


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