Ballads of Irish chivalry By Robert Dwyer Joyce: Edited, with Annotations, by his brother P. W. Joyce |
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| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. | VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
 | Ballads of Irish chivalry |  |
VII.
When morn's first beams began to quiver
On crest of rock and wave of river,
A marshalled band we saw far south
Emerging from a valley's mouth,
And knew 'twas Desmond and his men.
He saw us by the ford arrayed—
The Desmond bold—and when they prayed—
His bearded knights—that he would flee
Our onset, stoutly answered he,
With knitted brow and flashing eye—
“Though we are only one to three,
Beside yon ford I'd rather lie,
Bloody and stiff within my jack,
Than on a Butler turn my back.”
On crest of rock and wave of river,
A marshalled band we saw far south
Emerging from a valley's mouth,
And knew 'twas Desmond and his men.
He saw us by the ford arrayed—
The Desmond bold—and when they prayed—
His bearded knights—that he would flee
Our onset, stoutly answered he,
With knitted brow and flashing eye—
“Though we are only one to three,
Beside yon ford I'd rather lie,
Bloody and stiff within my jack,
Than on a Butler turn my back.”
Then hoarsely rose the battle yell,
And fast the Desmond clansmen fell;—
Yet stoutly still our charge they met,
Though gallantly to work we set,
Until Sir Edmund's petronel
Brought Desmond down, and he was made
A prisoner in that gory dell:
So ended his disastrous raid.
'Twas then, as five tall Butlers bore
The wounded Desmond by the shore,
“Where is the mighty Desmond now?”
They asked, amid that battle's wreck;
He raised himself, all red with gore,
And answered with exultant brow,—
“O, where, but on the Butler's neck!”
And fast the Desmond clansmen fell;—
Yet stoutly still our charge they met,
Though gallantly to work we set,
Until Sir Edmund's petronel
Brought Desmond down, and he was made
A prisoner in that gory dell:
So ended his disastrous raid.
42
The wounded Desmond by the shore,
“Where is the mighty Desmond now?”
They asked, amid that battle's wreck;
He raised himself, all red with gore,
And answered with exultant brow,—
“O, where, but on the Butler's neck!”
| Ballads of Irish chivalry | |