The Poems of Thomas Davis :: :: University of Virginia Library

THE FATE OF KING DATHI.

(A.D. 428.)

I

Darkly their glibs o'erhang,
Sharp is their wolf-dog's fang,
Bronze spear and falchion clang—
Brave men might shun them!
Heavy the spoil they bear—
Jewels and gold are there—
Hostage and maiden fair—
How have they won them?

II

From the soft sons of Gaul,
Roman, and Frank, and thrall,
Borough, and hut, and hall,—
These have been torn.
Over Britannia wide,
Over fair Gaul they hied,
Often in battle tried,—
Enemies mourn!

III

Fiercely their harpers sing,—
Led by their gallant king,
They will to Eire bring
Beauty and treasure.
Britain shall bend the knee—
Rich shall their households be—
When their long ships the sea
Homeward shall measure.

IV

Barrow and Rath shall rise,
Towers, too, of wondrous size,
Tâiltin they'll solemnize,
Feis-Teamhrach assemble.
Samhain and Béal shall smile
On the rich holy isle—
Nay! in a little while
Œtius shall tremble!

V

Up on the glacier's snow,
Down on the vales below,
Monarch and clansmen go—
Bright is the morning.
Never their march they slack,
Jura is at their back,
When falls the evening black,
Hideous, and warning.

VI

Eagles scream loud on high;
Far off the chamois fly;
Hoarse comes the torrent's cry,
On the rocks whitening.
Strong are the storm's wings;
Down the tall pine it flings;
Hail-stone and sleet it brings—
Thunder and lightning.

VII

Little these veterans mind
Thundering, hail, or wind;
Closer their ranks they bind—
Matching the storm.
While, a spear-cast or more,
On, the front ranks before,
Dathi the sunburst bore—
Haughty his form.

VIII

Forth from the thunder-cloud
Leaps out a foe as proud—
Sudden the monarch bowed—
On rush the vanguard;
Wildly the king they raise—
Struck by the lightning's blaze—
Ghastly his dying gaze,
Clutching his standard!

IX

Mild is the morning beam,
Gently the rivers stream,
Happy the valleys seem;
But the lone islanders—
Mark how they guard their king!
Hark, to the wail they sing!
Dark is their counselling—
Helvetia's highlanders

X

Gather, like ravens, near—
Shall Dathi's soldiers fear?
Soon their home-path they clear—
Rapid and daring;
On through the pass and plain,
Until the shore they gain,
And, with their spoil, again,
Landed in Eirinn.

XI

Little does Eire care
For gold or maiden fair—
“Where is King Dathi?—where,
Where is my bravest?”
On the rich deck he lies,
O'er him his sunburst flies—
Solemn the obsequies,
Eire! thou gavest.

XII

See ye that countless train
Crossing Ros-Comain's plain,
Crying, like hurricane,
Uile liú ai?—
Broad is his carn's base—
Nigh the “King's burial-place,”
Last of the Pagan race,
Lieth King Dathi!

The consul Œtius, the shield of Italy, and terror of “the barbarian,” was a contemporary of King Dathi. Feis-Teamhrach, the Parliament of Tara. Tailtin, games held at Tailte, county Meath. Samhain and Beal, the moon and sun which Ireland worshipped.—Author's Note.

Angl. Roscommon.

Hibernice, Roilig na Riogh, vulgo, Relignaree— “A famous burial place near Cruachan, in Connacht, where the kings were usually interred, before the establishment of the Christian religion in Ireland.”— O'Brien's Ir. Dict.