University of Virginia Library

On yon bold prominence, around whose base
Winds the broad river with unruffled course,
A mighty castle rears its ancient walls
Brown in the rust of time, sublime and sad
With over hanging battlements and towers
And works of old defence, a massy pile.
Within these naked halls what silence now,
Where once the roar of festive joy was heard
And antique revelry, with swell of harps
And minstrel songs of chiefs once great in fight,
Now seldom visited, but by the few
Who in such deep retirement love to sit,
(Far from the walk of mirth at times remote)
And muse upon the ever changing round
Of earthly things, and in these ruins see
The fall of empires and the fate of kings,
Here once, as legendary story tells,
Lived Desmond, rich in many a wide domain,
And bleating flock, and herd of fruitful kine,
Nightly secured, for in those ages rude
By force not law Men held uncertain wealth,
And neighbouring chiefs, for plunder or for pride
Their vassals mustering, on each other's pow'rs
Waged petty war; hence all those tall remains
Of former strength, that mid' our verdant fields
Stand venerable, by th'enquiring eyes
Of curious men oft seen, whom ancient lore
And relicks of the times long gone delight.
Desmond a daughter had, sweet as the morn,
Who many a petty potentate had sought
With honourable suit, but Brune obtained
The love of Aunagal, a youthful chief
Of princely lineage and vast domain.
A neighbouring prince, O'Connor, hot with rage
At offer'd love disdained, determines quick
By force to seize the maid, and levies round
A numerous host; and in those early times
Not rude in warlike arts, the spear and bow
They well could exercise in distant fight
Or in close conflict point the bloody skein;
Full use had they of ev'ry active limb,
Not cramp'd, nor stiffen'd by luxurious ease,
But firm to bear the hardships of the field,
And resolute in ev'ry danger they,
Whether to harass a retiring foe,
Or in retiring patient to endure;
A hardy race, and able to perform
Great deeds of manly strength, in manly strife.
Marshal'd with horse and foot O'Connor sends
A desperate threat to Desmond, who prepares
His extreme force the chieftain to resist,
Who now is on his frontier, and proceeds
To waste with fire and sword. Soon on the field
Desmond appears in arms, but cautious leaves
A chosen band to guard his castle, where
Entower'd close the lovely maiden wept
Her father and her love with ceaseless tears.
All day in conflict fierce and doubtful fight
They dyed the field with mutual slaughter red
'Till Desmond fell, feeble in hoary age,
And Brune retreats beneath the castle walls
Determined there to try (or perish brave)
The worst that fortune in her frowns may do,
And long the fight maintain'd with desperate rage
Till night soft closing, Connor seem'd to fly
With loss of men and horse cut numerous off,
But to the woods retired; and ere the dawn
Determines furious by one bold assault,
To win the castle, and in silence now
The troops approach, no clank of steel is heard,
Whisper'd from rank to rank the orders fly,
They trail their spears, and ranged in mute array
Come in long file, close by the river's side.
Mean while within the castle walls close throng'd
Needful refreshment Desmond's troops receive,
And due repose after the toil of fight,
While Brune with words of comfort sooths his bride
Who wails her aged sire, when loud alarm
Of horn and shout is heard, the scouts return
Precipitate, and, through the hall, the news
Of Connor at the gate re-echoes round.
Behold them in their haste, how throng'd, how loud
The buz of hasty preparation; quick
With spear or bow snatch'd up they sally forth,
The gates can scarce discharge them in their speed,
Their armours clash and bow-strings intertwine,
Forth like a swarm they rush, whose hive some swain
Disturbs at evening tide, or that wise race
The frugal ants, their small republic crush'd
By labouring peasant's heel. The groans of death
Numerous around denote the conflict dire,
'Till Brune with Connor meets whose arm he sought
And now a fight, such as no modern times
Ee'r saw, between the furious chiefs ensued:
They met with spears, but in the plated folds
Of Brunes tough shield the spear of Connor rang,
Who now defenceless, death expected quick
But Brune, disdaining victory so gained,
His, cast indignant down. and bade approach
His rival, who now, by the moon's broad orb
Which on the face of Brune shone full, descried
His foe's majestic front and manly form,
And thus address'd the chief—“Full well young Prince
“Dost thou deserve the beauty which thou seek'st
“Were it from any but O'Connor's arm
“Thou'dst win the prize—but honour, pride and shame
“Forbid me to resign my right—advance.”—
Approaching both, few steps, they drew their blades
Flashing like meteors from their harness,d thighs,
Each was a span in breadth, which now upraised
Gleam'd horrible athwart the moon-light beam
Like the long streaks which, in the northern sky
Darting their fires, are by the untaught hinds
The portents dire of bloody fields believed.
Now on the chiefs all turn'd their eyes, and stay'd
The busy conflict, and in silence stood
Waiting the issue of so dread a fight,
'Till Connor fell, deep gored with gaping wounds
And e'er the morn look'd pallid from the east,
His mourning host retired.—