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

Doon hangs above the ocean clear,
With old embattled towers,
And rears its grey head, stern and drear,
O'er inland streams and flowers;
Deserted now for many a year,
While the sun shines on the roses;
And the laugh of man shall never more
Resound within its chambers hoar,
While the waves roll by with thundering force,
Or the ocean calm reposes;
While the linnet sings on the golden gorse,
And the sun shines on the roses.

II

The fairies dance on Doon's grey hill,
When the midnight moon shines brightly,
Or far below by its forest rill,
With many a prank full sprightly;
They foot it too and dance their fill,
When the sun shines on the roses,
On the glade within its forest maze,
Where the flowers with light are all ablaze,
Where the stream along its glittering course
Its many charms discloses,
And the linnet sings on the golden gorse,
And the sun shines on the roses.

112

III

A heavy tramp sounds through the copse,
Upon their sport advancing,
And now their gleesome laughter stops,
And all their merry dancing;
And treading down the lusmore tops,
A steed comes onward prancing—
A great grey steed with glossy back,
With crested mane of midnight black,
With archèd neck and mighty limb,
And bold eyes glittering ever;
Where frowned that castle hoar and grim,
And sang the woodland river.

IV

They look into his great black eyes,
That gaze on them with wonder,
And now they talk in wild surprise,
And now they pause and ponder.
At length a gallant elf-knight cries,
“Out from the castle yonder,
We'll bring the trappings that we found
Deep in the chamber under ground,
And with them send this steed of might,
A master seeking ever!”
Where frowned that castle on the height,
And sang the woodland river.

V

With laugh and shout away they go,
And up the steep rocks clamber;
They heed not that the sea below
Lies stretched like golden amber;

113

They were too busy far, I trow,
For from the haunted chamber
They've brought the harness forth, and braced
The saddle bright with silver chased,
The haunch-plates, breast-plate, forehead boss,
And rein of golden glory,
Where the woodland stream sang through the moss,
And frowned that castle hoary.

VI

They hung beside the saddle sheen
A helm and pair of lances,
The best that e'er in war were seen,
Or heard of in romances;
And then they capered round the green,
And then, with merry glances,
Upon the steed strange spells they laid,
And dancing round him in the glade,
Said, “Go thou forth, thou gallant horse,
And find what fate discloses;
While the linnet sings on the golden gorse,
And the sun shines on the roses!”

VII

The steed sped down the forest straight,
And came to a lordly castle,
Where all were, noon and night, elate
With wine and roaring wassail;
A jolly knight came from the gate,
Bedecked with plume and tassel,
And sprang upon his back, but there
Soon went he flying through the air,
And down on earth with broken bones,
In grief and woe to languish,
And found that sermons lie in stones
Of bitter pain and anguish.

114

VIII

Next by a castle grim and bare
That great steed's hoofs came clanging,
Where rose the puritanic prayer
And hymns with nasal twanging;
Its lord came down the castle stair,
His godly bosom banging,
And sprang upon the horse's back,
But soon went prone into the black
Deep moat, where oft his holy steel
Strewed poor malignants' corses,
And found his puritanic zeal
Was most unfit for horses.

IX

By tower and street, the country round,
By many a hall of pleasure,
He sped, but every rider found
Wanting in some sad measure.
One was a miser whom he drowned,
For all his bags of treasure;
One was a knave that sold his cause,
And one a bloody tyrant was;
Another was a false mean hack,
Of false men's views the ranter;
But all, as each one gained his back,
He hurled to earth instanter.

X

At last by lone Cragbarna's side,
A region Ossianic,
Where none but outlaws dared abide,
'Mid rugged rocks volcanic,
As, proud and strong, the great steed hied,
Down from a crag Titanic
A young knight sprang—'twas John the Brown,
The banished lord of Barnaloun—

115

Sprang on his back, and stuck thereon
As firm as any Persian.
Cried he, as brightly shone the sun,
“Ah, now comes brave diversion!”

XI

The great steed plunged and reared amain,
To cause some dire disaster—
Across the crags did wildly strain,
And down the steep gorge faster;
But every ruse he tried in vain:—
At length he'd found his master;
He'd found a champion brave and true,
Whose heart no foul dishonour knew,
Whose sword was drawn to sweep each curse
Away that wrong imposes,
While the linnet sang on the golden gorse,
And the sun shone on the roses.

XII

And gayly cried Sir John the Brown,
As like a lamb, or tamer,
The steed at last trode mildly down;
“O, now I'm free to name her,—
My ladye love of bright renown,—
To worship and to claim her
To be my bride, for with this fine
Brave steed I'll win what should be mine,
My native hall, my broad domain,
That every charm discloses,
While the linnet sings his merry strain,
And the sun shines on the roses.

XIII

Then round he galloped eagerly,
And called up friend and vassal,
And drew them on the enemy
That held his native castle;

116

And there all were eternally
Immersed in wine and wassail,
And knew not, heard not, till they saw
Sir John the Brown his good sword draw
Before the gate on that great horse,
To slit their traitorous noses,
While the linnet sang on the golden gorse,
And the sun shone on the roses.

XIV

Sir John the Brown his home hath won,
And thrashed the foemen fairly:
His ladye love of bright renown
He made his bride full early.
Both lord and lady now are gone;
Their castle looms all drearly,
A ruin stark and lone: but still
The peasant hears upon its hill
The tramp of that great wizard horse,
And will, as evening closes,
While the linnet sings on the golden gorse,
And the sun shines on the roses.