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DUNBOY, 
AND    OTHER    POEMS 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2008  with  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


http://www.archive.org/details/dunboyotherOOosul 


DUNBOY, 

AND    OTHER    POEMS 


BY 

TIMOTHY    DANIEL    O'SULLIVAN. 


DUBLIN: 

JOHN     F.     FOWLER, 
3     CROW     STREET. 

MDCCCLXI. 


J      F     rOAVI.EK,    rniNTKR. 

o    CROW    STRKET,    3    CROW    STREET, 

DUDLIN. 


TO   THE   READER. 


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. 


d-^v^cxefif^-ti^ 


CONTENTS 


Page 

t)CNBOy, 

1 

Fisherman's  Prayer, 

.     113 

A  Soldier's  Wake, 

. 

115 

Steering  Home, 

llf. 

To  my  Brother, 

118 

Westward,  Ho! 

120 

A  Serenade, 

121 

The  Little  Wife, 

122 

A  Winter  Night, 

.     125 

The  Little  Barque, 

.     126 

Home!  Home! 

.     128 

Song  from  the  Backwoods, 

.     130 

The  Irish  American, 

132 

Far  Away, 

.     135 

The  Old  Exile, 

.     136 

The  Green  Flag, 

.     139 

Michael  Dwyer, 

.     140 

Theobald  Wolfe  Tone, 

.     143 

Perturbations, 

.     145 

A  Valentine, 

.     147 

My  Poetess, 

.    150 

DUNB  0  Y. 


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. 

1 


2  DUN  BOY. 

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. 


DUNBOY. 

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. 


4  DUNBOT. 

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. 


DUNBOY. 

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 ; 


0  CrKBOY. 

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 


DUNBOY. 


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. 


DUNBOT. 


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, 


10  DLNBOT. 

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 
dread 

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 — 


DUNBOV.  13 

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 — 


14  DUNBOY. 

"  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 
bloom, 
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. 


DUNBOY.  15 

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 


1 G  DUNBOV. 

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! 


DUNBOY.  17 

n. 

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 ! 

m. 

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 ; 


DUNBOY.  19 

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 ! 


20  DLNBOV. 

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. 


DUNBOY,  2i 

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. 


22  DUNDOT. 

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. 


BUKBOY.  23 

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, 


DUNBOT.  25 

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  ! 
0  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 ; 

2 


20  PUNBOY. 

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 — 


DUNBOY.  27 

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, 


-8  DUNBOY. 

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. 


DUNBOT.  29 

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. 


DUNBOY.  81 

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  ; 


32  DUNDOY. 

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  ; 


DUNBOY. 


83 


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 

run 
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. 


DUKBOY.  35 

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, 


36 


DUN'BOr. 


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. 


DUNBOY.  37 

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 

3 


,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 ! 


PUKBOY.  39 

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 — 


41 


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 


12 


DUNBOY. 


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, 


DUNBOY.  43 

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 — 


BUNBOY.  45 

"  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  ?" 


46 


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!" 


DCNEOY.  49 

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, 


DUNBOT,  51 

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, 


DUNBOY.  53 

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  ! 


54  DLNIJOV. 

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. 


DUKBOY.  55 

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 
round. 
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 
true. 
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, 


DUNBOY,  57 

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. 
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. 


58 


Dt'NItOT. 


Ami  crush  them  or  chase  tlicm  away — 

Hurra ! 
Let  us  crush  tliean  or  chase  them  away ! 

11. 

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. 

in. 

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 ! 


DUNBOY.  59 

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. 

II. 

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. 

III. 

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. 


DUNBOT,  61 

rv'. 

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. 

VT. 

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  ; 

4 


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 


DUNBOY.  63 

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 : — 

I. 
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.* 
II. 
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. 


t;i 


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

Darling  Una  6g  raaehree. 


III. 


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 

side, 
WTiere  the  folds  of  his  clothing  with  crimson  are 

dyed? 
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 

ground, 


DUNBOY.  65 

Soft  cushions  they  push  'neath  his  shoulders  and 
hips, 

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, 


\ 


1 


DUNBOY.  67 


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, 


W  DUNBOY, 

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, 


DUNBOY.  69 

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  ! 


DUN  BOY. 


71 


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. 


DUNBOT.  73 

"  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 
band, 
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, 

6 


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 

brunt. 
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 

suddenly. 
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, 


DUNBOY.  77 

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, 


78  IUKDOT. 

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, 


i 


DUNBOY.  79 

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 

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


80 


DUNBOT. 


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   EngU.sh   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. 


DUNBOT.  81 

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 

underground, 
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 


82  DUNBOT. 

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. 


DUNBOY. 


83 


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, 


86  DUNBOY. 

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 


DUNBOY.  87 

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 ! 


DUNBOT,  89 

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 

Beare, 
'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". 

H. 

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. 


90  DCKDOT. 

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. 

IV. 

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 

machree, 
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 ; 


DUNBOY.  91 

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. 


DUNBOY.  93 

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. 


DtJNBOT. 

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  !" 


95 


on  DUNBOY. 

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, 


DUNBOY,  97 

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. 

7 


Of^  DUNTJOT. 

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. 


DITNBOY.  99 

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  ? 


101 


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, 


HU  DINBOT. 

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. 


1 OG  DUNBOY. 

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, 

8 


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. 


DUNBOY. 

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. 


Ill 


SONGS    AND    POEMS.* 


FISHERI^IAN'S  PRAYER. 


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 ! 


SONGS  AND  POEMS.  115 

A  SOLDIER'S  WAKE. 


"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 
Paper. 


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. 


1  I  6  SUM.S    AND   I'OKJIS. 

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. 


STEERING  HOME. 


Far  out  beyond  our  sheltered  bay. 
Against  the  golden  evening  sky, 

A  brown  speck  rises,  then  away 
It  sinks — it  dwindles  from  my  eye. 


SONGS  AXD   POEMS.  117 

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. 


1  1  8  SONGS   AND  I'OEMS. 

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. 


TO  MY  BROTHER. 


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. 


SONGS  AND  POEMS.  119 

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 ! 


120 


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. 


SONGS   A^'D  POEMS.  1-i 


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. 


A  SERENADE. 


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. 


1-2  SONGS  AND  rOEMS. 

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. 


THE  LIITLE  WIFE. 


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 


SONGS   AND  POEMS.  123 

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. 


1"J1  SONGS  AND    rOKMS. 

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. 


SONGS    AND  POEMS.  125 

A  WINTER  NIGHT. 


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. 


126  SONGS  AND    rOKMS. 

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. 


THE  LITTLE  BARQUE. 


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. 


SONGS   AND  POEMS.  127 

"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 

light, 
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. 


128  SONUS    ANU  fOtMS. 


IIU.ME:  HUME! 


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 — 


SOXGS  AXD  POEMS.  129 

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. 


130  SONGS  AND    roEMS. 

SONG  FROM  THE  BACKWOODS, 


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 


SONGS   AND  POEMS.  131 

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  ! 


1.'52 


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! 


THE  IRISH-AMERICAN. 


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 

among. 
And  filled  its  fair  valleys  with  laugh  and  with  song. 


SONGS  AND  POEMS.  133 

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 

were. 
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, 

9 


l'5l  SONGS  AND  rOF.MS. 

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 

line, 
That  the  might   of  tliy  tyrant  was  greater  than 

thine. 

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 

unfurled, 
Her  sons,  and  their  sons,   from  the  ends  of  the 

world. 

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. 


SONGS  AKD  POEMS.  135 


FAR  AWAY. 


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 

around. 
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. 


liJU  SONGS    AND  rOEMS. 

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. 


THE  OLD  EXILE. 


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. 


SONGS  AND  POE.MS. 

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. 


138  SONGS  AND    POHMS. 

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 


SONGS  AND   POEMS.  13^ 

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. 


THE  GREEN  FLAG. 


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 ; 


if  SONOS  AND  I'OE.MS. 

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 


MICHAEL   DWYEIi. 


"  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 

Email".* 


*  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 
track. 


f 


SONGS   AND  POEMS.  141 

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 

die". 

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 

side. 

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 

floor, 
I'll  stand  before  the  soldiers,  and  open  wide  the 

door, 
They'll    pour    into    my  bosom   the  tire   of  their 

array ; 
Then,  whilst  their  guns  are  empty,  dash  through 

them  and  away  !" 


SONGS  AND  POEMS.  143 

He  stood  before  his  foemen,  revealed  amidst  the 

flame, 
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 

outside. 

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 

Email. 


THEOBALD  WOLFE  TONE. 


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. 


It  I  SONGS  AND  POEMS. 

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. 


SONGS  AND   POEMS.  145 

PERTURBATIONS. 


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. 

10 


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, 


SONGS  AND  rOEMS.  li', 

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. 


A  VALENTINE 


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". 


1  18  SONGS  AND  rOEMS, 

Next    comos    that    perfect    lieaiity,   young   Miss 
Skinny, 

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 
bowers, 

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 
blessing". 


SONGS  AND  POEMS.  1-49 

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. 


l.V)  SONGS  AND  iHiEMS. 

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. 


MY  POETESS. 


"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. 


SONGS  AND  POEMS.  151 

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. 


SONGS  AND  rOEMS.  lo3 

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. 


1  ')  I  SONOS  AND  POEMS. 

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. 


SONUS  AND  POEMS.  105 

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. 


NOTES  TO  DUNBOY. 


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 


NOTES  TO  DUNBOY.  159 

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. 


1  tlO  NUTtS  TO  DUNBCA'. 

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 


NOTES  TO  DUNiSUV.  161 

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 


NOTLS  TO  DUNBOY.  1  63 

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 
destroyed. 


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 
lioury". 

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. 


NOTES  TO  OUNBOY,  1(55 

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, 


1  t!G  NOTKS  TO  DUNUOY. 

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  w.is  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 
text. 


NOTES  TO  DUNBOY.  1G7 

"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 


\C>>>  NOTKS  TO  DLNIIOY, 

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 
beast"'. 


NOTES  TO  DUNBOY.  1G9 

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. 

11 


1 70  NOTES  TO  DUNDOV 

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 


NOTES  TO  DUNBOY.  171 

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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