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

In a hollow cave near that bright well's foam
A mighty robber once made his home.
A man he was fierce sullen and dark
As ever brooded on murder stark,—

III

A mighty man of a fearful name,
Who took their treasures from all who came,
Who hated mankind, who murdered for greed,
With an iron heart for each bloody deed.

IV

As he sat by the torrent ford one day,
A weird-like beldame came down the way;
Red was her mantle, and rich and fine,
But travel and dust had dimmed its shine.

V

A war-axe in his strong hand he took,
And he killed the beldame beside the brook;
And when on the greensward in death she rolled,
In her arms, lo, a babe, clad in pearls and gold!

VI

Then darkly he raised his hand to kill;
But his fierce heart smote him such blood to spill;
And the rage for murder was there beguiled
By the innocent smile of that lovely child.

VII

He buried the beldame beside the wave,
And he took the child to his mountain cave;
And the first jewel his red hand met,
A Fern and a Hound on its gem were set.

VIII

He made it a bed of the fern leaves green,
And he nursed it well from that evening sheen,
And year by year as the little boy grew,
The heart of the robber grew softer too.

IX

Ten long years were past and gone,
And the robber sat by the ford's grey stone;
And there on the eve of a spring-tide day,
A lordly pageant came down the way.

X

Before them a banner of green and gold,
With a Fern and a Hound on its glittering fold,
Behind it a prince with a sad pale face,—
A mighty prince of a mighty race.

XI

“Sad,” said the prince, “my fate has been,
Since the dark enchanters have taken my queen,
And they've snatched my child from his nurse's hand,
And have kept him since in th' enchanted land.”

XII

The robber looked on the Fern and Hound,
Then sprang towards the prince with an eager bound;
And “Why art thou sad, O king,” said he,
“In the midst of this lordly companie?”

XIII

His kindly purpose they all mistook,
For though worn and wan, yet fierce his look;
And sudden a noble drew out his glaive,
And cleft his skull on the beldame's grave.

XIV

The dying robber half rose by the wave,
“O, enter,” he cried, “yon lonely cave.”
They entered: the pale prince found his child,
And all was joy on that mountain wild.