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

He had sinews of brass for the chase's flight,
Eyes of fire as he swept the hill;
He'd a heart of steel for the bloody fight;
And his master was Hugh of the Mill.

III

But Hugh of the Mill had a master too—
The Baron of Derrinlaur,
Whom he served in peace as a vassal should do,
And followed in day of war.

IV

Never were twain by hill or by plain
So matched in passion and ill
As the baron bold of that castle old,
And his strong vassal, Hugh of the Mill.

V

By Cummeragh one morn, with stag-hound and horn,
They hunted like the wind,
But the miller's black steed with his sinews of speed
Left the ireful baron's behind.

VI

“This brown steed of mine, strong Hugh, shall be thine,
With fifty crowns so bright;
But I must have thy charger brave,
For I need him in the fight!”

VII

Then out and told that miller so bold:
“I care not for favour or pelf;
And this brave steed of mine shall never be thine,
For I need his strength myself!”

VIII

Then an ireful man was the dark baron,
And an angry laugh he gave:
“I will have thy steed, though the demon should feed
On thy carcass, thou grinding knave!”

IX

And though Hugh was strong, down down to the earth
The vassals have dragged him amain,
And they've changed each saddle and rein and girth,
And mounted him once again.

X

On the baron's brown horse now he's mounted perforce,
And the proud baron sits on the other;
The baron is glad, but the miller is mad
With a passion he cannot smother.

XI

He digs the spurs in the brown steed's sides
Till it snorts with rage and pain;
Then up with a fiendish frown he rides
To the baron's bridle rein.

XII

“May the memory of crime thy bosom freeze—
The worm that never dies—
Till the flames of hell on thy dark soul seize,
And I see it with mine eyes!”

XIII

Then he plunges and volts, and away he bolts,
And down the rough mountain he's gone;
While the vassals' laughter rings loudly after,
And the shout of the fierce baron.

XIV

There were battles enough both bloody and tough
To employ them both, I wot,
And many moons ran over master and man,
Till the curse was all forgot.

XV

But there came a day when the baron lay
On his bed of sickness and dole,
And the bells were rung at the evening grey
For his departing soul.

XVI

There came three knocks at the miller's gate
In the dead hour of the night,
And the miller he rose at a furious rate,
And looked forth in the full moon's light.

XVII

And there sat the Baron of Derrinlaur
Upon the swift black horse,
And his fixed eyes glared 'neath his visor bar,
And his brow was pale as a corse.

XVIII

“Come hither, come hither, thou miller brave,—
Come, mount and follow me!”
On the dark-brown steed Hugh is mounted with speed,
And away with the baron is he:

XIX

In their garb of war by old Derrinlaur,
And down by the rushing Suir,
Till they strike on a track all barren and black,
O'er a wide and lonely moor.

XX

Black mountains rise to the dusky skies
Beyond that desert place,
As side by side away they ride
In a fierce and furious race.

XXI

Taller and taller each giant hill
And darker their deep chasms grow,
As away over quagmire and brawling rill
Like demons of night they go.

XXII

Redder and redder the baron's eyes glared,
But 'twas more from rage than fear,
As the bog-fiend's lamp on their pathway flared,
And they swept that barrier near.

XXIII

And there at last rose a crag so vast
That it hid in the clouds its face;
Then the miller reined in, but the baron spurred past
Till he neared its gloomy base.

XXIV

Then it rocked and shaked, and it groaned and quaked,
And its breast burst right before,
And a mighty flame through the broad rent came
As from hell's eternal door.

XXV

Yet on and on spurred the fierce baron
Till he came to that fiery rent;
Then his teeth he ground, and with one great bound
Through its flaming throat he went!

XXVI

One thunderous roar through the heavens tore
As the rent upclosed again,
And the bog-fiend's lamp went out on the swamp,
And the black cocks crowed by the fen.

XXVII

The miller he rose at the break of day,
And looked for the crag and the moor:
Nought before him lay but that castle grey
And his own blithe mill by the Suir.

XXVIII

Then he crossed the mill weir speedily,
And straight to the stable he sped;
But a humbled and awe-struck man was he,
When he found his steed stark dead!

XXIX

Then sore of body and weary of bone,
To Derrinlaur he passed;
From its gloomy halls rose the vassals' moan,
For the baron was gone at last.

XXX

“And now, once more, my brave black steed,
I will have thee,” the miller said,
As he sought the stable with eager speed:
But the black steed, too, was dead!