Ballads of Irish chivalry :: :: University of Virginia Library

Though the linnets sing sweet from the wildwood,
Young Kathleen no blithe warbling hears,
And the warm wind that plays o'er the moorland
Can ne'er dry her fast-falling tears;
And though gay laughs the sunlight around her,
Still her heart is all sad and forlorn
As she sits by the ford of Glenara
Awaiting her Dermot's return;
For he's gone to the fray with his kindred,
The hard-riding clansmen of Mourne.

II

“There are blood spots full thick on thy charger,
There are blood marks deep red on thy mail,—
Have ye news, have ye news from the battle,
Tired horseman so gory and pale?—
Were you at the bridge of Glanwillan,
And saw you my love in the fray?”
“A curse on that bridge!” cried the horseman,
“There the Irish have conquered to-day!”
Then he dashed through the bright gleaming river,
And away o'er the moorland, away.

III

“There's a smile on thy face, gallant horseman,
Who sweep'st like the wind to the ford,
On thy steed steams the fresh foam of battle,
And the blood stains are wet on thy sword;

202

O, were you at the bridge of Glanwillan?”
With a wild cry of anguish she prayed:
Reining up with a splash in the water,
His hot steaming charger he stayed,—
“Yes, I've news from the bridge of Glanwillan,
Brave news for old Ireland, fair maid.”

IV

“O, stay thee, brave horseman, I pray thee,
And tell how the foeman came down;
Did he drive the good preys from the valleys,
And burn every hamlet and town?
On the narrow red bridge of Glanwillan
Did my Dermot ride front with the best?”—
On his brow shone a bright smile of triumph,
Like the sunlight on Houra's wild crest,
As the tale of that morning's fierce battle
He told at the fair maid's behest.

V

But first he glared over the moorland,
Where the heathbells laugh bright in the sun,
And shook his red sword at the foeman,
Who wounded and weary toiled on:—
“'Twas down from the green sloping mountain
We first saw the foemen's array,

203

Riding forth with high hearts to the foray,
On the broad smoking plain far away.
Dhar Dhee! like the corn sheaves of autumn,
By the bridge lie their corses to-day.

VI

“With a jangling of scabbards and bridles
We dashed down to the broad Avonmore,
Where the long narrow bridge of Glanwillan
Spans the brown tide from steep shore to shore:
And there in the green blooming forest
We halted our ranks on the glade,
And each rider looked close to his pistols,
And loosened his long gleaming blade;
Like a bright wall of steel in the sunlight
We stood for the foemen arrayed.

VII

“You could hear the shrill whine of the otter
As he quested his prey by the shore;
You could hear the brown trout in the shallow
Splash up from the wave evermore;
So still we awaited their coming,
Though each heart for the fight throbbed full fain,
Till we saw through the greenwoods advancing
Their line like a long serpent train,
Till the psalm-singing troopers of Cromwell
Poured down o'er the causeway amain.

VIII

“'Twas then like the storm-cloud of autumn
That rolls over Barna's wild crest,
When its thunder clangs hoarse through the gorges,
And the lightnings leap out from its breast,

204

With our loud ringing slogan of battle
On their thick-serried squadrons we bore,
With a flashing of helmets and sabres,
And a rattling of matchlocks galore,
Till the fresh green was strewn with their corses,
And the causeway was slippery with gore.

IX

“There I rode side by side on the causeway,
With your true-love so gallant and leal,
As he charged 'mongst the foremost and bravest,
In his morion and bright jack of steel.
I could hear the loud clang of his horse-hoofs,
As he swept o er the red bridge's crown,
And many a bold Saxon trooper
'Neath the sweep of his long sword went down.
This day for thy Dermot of Mourne
Is a bright day of deathless renown.

X

“Then weep not, fair maid, by Glenara;
In triumph thy love will return,
His plume waved to-day 'midst the foremost
Of the hard-riding clansmen of Mourne.
His name shall be sacred among us,
And a watchword in foray and fray!”
Then that fierce clansman glared o'er the moorland,
As the wolf looketh out for his prey,
And he dashed through the ford like an arrow
On the track of his foeman away.