The Poems of J. J. Callanan A New Edition, with Biographical Introduction and Notes |
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THE LAMENT OF O'GNIVE. |
 | The Poems of J. J. Callanan |  |
THE LAMENT OF O'GNIVE.
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(Fearflatha O'Gniamh was family Olamh, or Bard, to the O'Neil of Clanoboy about the year 1556. The Poem, of which the following lines are the translation, commences with “Ma thruagh mar ataid' Goadhil.”)
How dimm'd is the glory that circled the Gael,
And fall'n the high people of green Inisfail;
The sword of the Saxon is red with their gore;
And the mighty of nations is mighty no more!
And fall'n the high people of green Inisfail;
The sword of the Saxon is red with their gore;
And the mighty of nations is mighty no more!
Like a bark on the ocean, long shattered and tost,
On the land of your fathers at length you are lost;
The hand of the spoiler is stretched on your plains,
And you're doom'd from your cradles to bondage and chains.
On the land of your fathers at length you are lost;
The hand of the spoiler is stretched on your plains,
And you're doom'd from your cradles to bondage and chains.
120
O where is the beauty that beam'd on thy brow?
Strong hand in the battle! how weak art thou now;
That heart is now broken that never would quail,
And thy high songs are turned into weeping and wail.
Strong hand in the battle! how weak art thou now;
That heart is now broken that never would quail,
And thy high songs are turned into weeping and wail.
Bright shades of our sires! from your home in the skies
O blast not your sons with the scorn of your eyes!
Proud spirit of Gollam how red is thy cheek,
For thy freemen are slaves, and thy mighty are weak!
O blast not your sons with the scorn of your eyes!
Proud spirit of Gollam how red is thy cheek,
For thy freemen are slaves, and thy mighty are weak!
O'Neil
of the hostages, Con
whose high name,
On a hundred red battles has floated to fame,
Let the long grass still sigh undisturbed o'er thy sleep;
Arise not to shame us, awake not to weep.
On a hundred red battles has floated to fame,
Let the long grass still sigh undisturbed o'er thy sleep;
Arise not to shame us, awake not to weep.
In thy broad wing of darkness enfold us, O night;
Withhold, O bright sun, the reproach of thy light;
For freedom or valour no more canst thou see,
In the home of the Brave, in the isle of the Free.
Withhold, O bright sun, the reproach of thy light;
For freedom or valour no more canst thou see,
In the home of the Brave, in the isle of the Free.
121
Affliction's dark waters your spirits have bow'd,
And oppression hath wrapped all your land in its shroud,
Since first from the Brehon's pure justice you stray'd,
And bent to the laws the proud Saxon has made.
And oppression hath wrapped all your land in its shroud,
Since first from the Brehon's pure justice you stray'd,
And bent to the laws the proud Saxon has made.
We know not our country, so strange is her face;
Her sons once her glory are now her disgrace;
Gone, gone is the beauty of fair Innisfail,
For the stranger now rules in the land of the Gael.
Her sons once her glory are now her disgrace;
Gone, gone is the beauty of fair Innisfail,
For the stranger now rules in the land of the Gael.
Where, where are the woods that oft rung to your cheer,
Where you waked the wild chase of the wolf and the deer?
Can those dark heights with ramparts all frowning and riven,
Be the hills where your forests wav'd brightly in Heaven?
Where you waked the wild chase of the wolf and the deer?
Can those dark heights with ramparts all frowning and riven,
Be the hills where your forests wav'd brightly in Heaven?
O bondsmen of Egypt! no Moses appears
To light your dark steps thro' this desert of tears;
Degraded and lost ones, no Hector is nigh
To lead you to freedom, or teach you to die!
To light your dark steps thro' this desert of tears;
Degraded and lost ones, no Hector is nigh
To lead you to freedom, or teach you to die!
Nial—of the Nine Hostages, the Heroic Monarch of Ireland, in the 4th century—and ancestor of the O'Neil family.
| The Poems of J. J. Callanan | |