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

There's a hollow cave in dark Knockbrone;
It faceth to the golden west
From the steep mountain's ridge of stone:
Boulder and crag, around it strown,
Its entrance from the wild winds save:
And there of yore, in that lone cave,
There lived the gentlest fairest maid
From brown Slieve Bloom to Cleena's wave.

II

In grey Kilmallock stands a tower,
And there her lordly father dwelt
Long long ago in pride and power.
And ample was bright Nora's dower,
And many suitors round her came;
Till one old chieftain pressed his claim;
A false and gloomy man was he,
But high he stood in martial fame.

III

Some curse was on her father then;
He looked with scorn on her true love
For young Sir Redmond of the Glen.
They forced her to the shrine, and when
Within its sacred bound they staid,
The withered bridegroom—that fair maid—
You ne'er have seen and ne'er shall see
A bridal match so ill arrayed.

IV

As they sat that eve at sunset red,
The bridegroom said, with bitter leer,
His own dear lady was not dead!
Alas, 'twas truth the old man said:
Then Nora started from her rest;
And plunged a dagger in his breast;
Then fled by glen and bower and tree,
Until she reached Knockbrone's wild crest.

V

Remorseful, mad with grief and pain,
She passed that woeful summer night,
Till morn leapt o'er the hills again.
O, tears may gush like April rain,
Yet the heart's sorrow will not go;
And Nora's grief, remorse, and woe
From her poor bosom would not flee,
Howe'er her bitter tears might flow.

VI

Her food the wild herbs of the fell,
The cave her home for many a day,
Her drink a lone and rock-bound well.
At length she prayed—and legends tell
How God did hear her earnest prayer—
To die on that wild mountain there,
And leave for Heaven her misery,
Her sorrow, madness, and despair.

VII

As by the cave one noon she sat,
Far looking towards her father's hall,
Crags round her grey and desolate,
She saw in burnished harness plate
Many fierce chargers spurn the grass:
Two armies, each in one bright mass,
Rushed into battle valiantly
Beneath her in the Bloody Pass.

VIII

One chief she knew with fatal spear,
'Twas young Sir Redmond of the Glen,
Forth rushing in his wild career.
She saw—the foe's red banner near—
Where knight and kern lay strewn and killed,
Her brave young lover's blood was spilled;
And there that hapless hour sat she,
The measure of her sorrows filled.

IX

She took the huge dirk which had slain
That old and false and villain chief,
Red-crusted with its bloody stain:
A grey old crumbling stone had lain
Beside the cave for many a year,
“Of this,” she cried, “I'll make my bier,
And die where o'er my misery
No human eye can shed a tear!”

X

Morn and noon and sunset red,
The lady plied that dagger strong,
Till she had scooped her narrow bed.
Now the sweet summer time was fled,
Its blooming flowers decayed and gone;
And all forlorn, and weak, and wan,
There on an autumn eve sat she,
The last that o'er her misery shone.

XI

She laid her on her bier of stone,
And there beside that rocky cave
She died in sorrow all alone;
Where, by the ridge of stern Knockbrone,
The peasants found her lifeless clay,
And bare her to the abbey grey.
There sleeps she lowly, silently,
Till mercy comes on Judgment Day.