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

He grasped his ponderous hammer—he could not stand it more,
To hear the bombshells bursting and thundering battle's roar;
Said he, “The breach they're mounting, the Dutchman's murdering crew:
I'll try my hammer on their heads and see what that can do.”

II

“Now swarthy Ned and Moran, make up that iron well,
'Tis Sarsfield's horse that wants the shoes, so mind not shot or shell.”
“Ah, sure,” cried both, “the horse can wait, for Sarsfield's on the wall,
And where you go we'll follow, with you to stand or fall.”

III

The blacksmith raised his hammer and rushed into the street,
His 'prentice boys behind him, the ruthless foe to meet:

High on the breach of Limerick with dauntless hearts they stood,
Where bombshells burst, and shot fell thick, and redly ran the blood.

IV

“Now look you, brown-haired Moran, and mark you, swarthy Ned,
This day we'll try the thickness of many a Dutchman's head—
Hurrah! upon their bloody path they're mounting gallantly;
And now the first that tops the breach, leave him to this and me.”

V

The first that gained the rampart he was a captain brave,—
A captain of the grenadiers with blood-stained dirk and glaive;
He pointed and he parried, but it was all in vain,
For right through skull and helmet the hammer found his brain.

VI

The next that topped the rampart he was a colonel bold,
Bright through the dust of battle his helmet flashed with gold.
“Gold is no match for iron,” the doughty blacksmith said,
As with that ponderous hammer he stretched the foeman dead.

VII

“Now here's for God and Limerick!” black Ned and Moran cried,
As on the Dutchmen's leaden heads their hammers well they plied.

A bombshell burst between them:—one fell without a groan;
One leaped into the lurid air and down the breach was thrown.

VIII

“Brave smith! brave smith!” cried Sarsfield, beware the treacherous mine:
Fall back, fall back on th' instant, or death is surely thine!”
The smith sprang up the rampart and leaped the blood-stained wall,
As high into the shuddering air went foemen, fort, and all!

IX

Up, like a red volcano they thundered wild and high—
Brave Brandenburghers, spears and guns and standards, to the sky;
And dark and bloody was the shower that round the blacksmith fell;
He thought upon his 'prentice boys—they were avengéd well.

X

At that mighty roar a deadly silence instant settled down:
'Twas broken by a triumph shout that shook the ancient town:
Again its heroes forward dashed, and charged, and fought, and slew,
And taught King William and his men what Irish hearts could do.

XI

Hurrah, for the brave defenders! They've hurled the foemen back!
The blacksmith rushed on the flying ranks; his hammer ne'er was slack.

He's tak'n a Holland captain beside the red pontoon,
And “wait you here,” he sternly cries, “I'll send you back full soon.”

XII

“Dost see this gory hammer? It cracked some skulls to-day;
And yours 'twill crack if you don't stand and list to what I say:—
Here, take it to King William straight, and you may tell him too,
'Twould be acquainted with his skull, if he were here, not you.”

XIII

The blacksmith sought his smithy and blew his bellows strong;
He shod the steed of Sarsfield but o'er it sang no song.
“Ochone, my boys are dead,” cried he; “their loss I'll long deplore;
But comfort's in my heart—their graves are red with foreign gore!”