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The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore

Collected by Himself. In Ten Volumes
  

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AVENGING AND BRIGHT.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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300

AVENGING AND BRIGHT.

Avenging and bright fall the swift sword of Erin
On him who the brave sons of Usna betray'd!—
For ev'ry fond eye he hath waken'd a tear in,
A drop from his heart-wounds shall weep o'er her blade.

301

By the red cloud that hung over Conor's dark dwelling ,
When Ulad's three champions lay sleeping in gore—
By the billows of war, which so often, high swelling,
Have wafted these heroes to victory's shore—
We swear to revenge them!—no joy shall be tasted,
The harp shall be silent, the maiden unwed,
Our halls shall be mute and our fields shall lie wasted,
Till vengeance is wreak'd on the murderer's head.
Yes, monarch! tho' sweet are our home recollections,
Though sweet are the tears that from tenderness fall;
Though sweet are our friendships, our hopes, our affections,
Revenge on a tyrant is sweetest of all!
 

The words of this song were suggested by the very ancient Irish story called “Deirdri, or the Lamentable Fate of the Sons of Usnach,” which has been translated literally from the Gaelic, by Mr. O'Flanagan (see vol. i. of Transactions of the Gaelic Society of Dublin), and upon which it appears that the “Darthula of Macpherson” is founded. The treachery of Conor, King of Ulster, in putting to death the three sons of Usna, was the cause of a desolating war against Ulster, which terminated in the destruction of Eman. “This story (says Mr. O'Flanagan) has been, from time immemorial, held in high repute as one of the three tragic stories of the Irish. These are, ‘The death of the children of Touran;’ ‘The death of the children of Lear’ (both regarding Tuatha de Danans), and this, ‘The death of the children of Usnach,’ which is a Milesian story.” It will be recollected, that in the Second Number of these Melodies, there is a ballad upon the story of the children of Lear or Lir; “Silent, oh Moyle!” &c.

Whatever may be thought of those sanguine claims to antiquity, which Mr. O'Flanagan and others advance for the literature of Ireland, it would be a lasting reproach upon our nationality, if the Gaelic researches of this gentleman did not meet with all the liberal encouragement they so well merit.

“Oh Nasi! view that cloud that I here see in the sky! I see over Eman-green a chilling cloud of blood-tinged red.” —Deirdri's Song.

Ulster.