 | The poetical works of William H. C. Hosmer |  |
CAROLAN'S PROPHECY.
[It is related of Carolan Twalogh, the Irish Handel, that in his gayest mood he could not compose a planxty on a Miss Brett, the daughter of a noble house in the County of Sligo. One day, after a vain attempt to compose something in honor of the young lady, in a mixture of rage and grief he threw his clàrsach aside, and, addressing her mother in Irish, whispered:—“Madam, I have often, from my great respect to your family, attempted a planxty to celebrate your daughter's perfections, but to no purpose. Some evil genius hovers over me; there is not a string in my discordant harp that does not vibrate a melancholy sound—I fear she is not long for this world.” Tradition says that the event verified the prediction. See sketch of Carolan in the Edinburgh Encyclopedia.]
Its roof with music rings,
For Carolan is sweeping
The clàrsach's quivering strings;
And catching inspiration
From faces fair around,
His voice is richer far than gush
Of instrumental sound.
Of Tara's mighty kings,
Who never to invader knelt,
Exultingly he sings;
And on the glittering sands that edge
The blue and bellowing main,
Beneath the blade of Bryan falls
The yellow-bearded Dane.
His brow is overcast—
And tears from his old, withered orbs
Are falling warm and fast:
In soul he looks on Athunrée,
Disastrous field of gore!
The glory of O'Conner's house
Expires to wake no more.
The wond'rous strain away,
Approving smile and word requite
The minstrel for his lay;
And by the hand of high-born maid
The golden cup was filled,
Commotion in a heart to hush
By grief too wildly thrilled.
His harp of magic tone,
Quoth Carolan—“What bard will not
The sway of Beauty own?
Kind hostess, I will now compose
A planxty, promised long,
In honor of thy daughter fair,
Oh! matchless theme for song!”
So clear and passing sweet,
That, timing to the melody,
The heart of listener beat;
But when the white-haired bard began
His tributary lay,
The soul of music from the strings
Wild discord drove away.
Upon the chords he laid—
He turned the keys, but harsher sound
The trembling clàrsach made:
In honor of the mother, then,
A planxty he composed,
And perfect was the harmony
Until the strain was closed.
To celebrate their charms,
My fainting spirit warms;
By shadows from another world
My soul is clouded o'er—
Oh! would that I might never see
The light of morning more!”
Meet only for the dead—
What sorrow weighs upon thy heart?”
His noble hostess said:
The minstrel whispered in reply—
“The daughter of thy heart,
Before the flowers of summer-time
Are faded, will depart.”
Went sadly on his way;
To bid green Erin's Flower farewell
He could not, would not stay;
But sought, ere vanished many days,
That lordly hall again,
And through its gateway, moving slow,
Defiled a funeral train.
| The poetical works of William H. C. Hosmer | |