University of Virginia Library

Next morn, with friendly partings many a one,
They left the stronghold, and the rising sun
Looked with a kindly eye on their array,
As far they wound upon their westward way.
And with no craven bosoms did they go,
Seeking deliverance, weeping, from their woe,
But with high hearts of youthful hope and pride
That knew not fear, and danger's frown defied,
Onward they marched in their best bravery,
Till on the fifth fair eve the far-off sea
Appeared between two hills to heaven outrolled,
Resplendent 'neath the sunset's burning gold.
Beneath an oak-wood's boughs they camped that night,
And at the first gleam of the morning light
Bestirred themselves, and lit their fires, and made,
With lively hum beneath the leafy shade,
Their meal of wild-boar chines,—a goodly cheer,—
And quern-ground wheat, and flesh of forest deer
And wine and sparkling water. Then they rose,
And struck their tents, and, thick as corn that grows
Wind-waven on the long ridge after rain,
Glittered their spear-points, as they marched again
Into the great gap 'mid the hills wherethro'
The first bright ocean glimpse had met their view,

At noon they cleared the pass, and saw the main
Smooth gleaming to the far-off skies again,
Beyond a level tract wherein a bay
Curved towards them, all its sunny waves at play
With the sweet winds, as if in mockery
Of man's fell wrath and madness raging nigh;—
Nigh on the shore, where from a burning town
The smoke clouds rolled away o'er dale and down,
Where red before the Usnanians' wondering gaze
In forkèd tongues uprose the ravenous blaze;—
Whence on the soft breeze came the sounds of woe,
Now rising high and shrill, now falling low,
Heart-rending as the ululations drear
Of a great tribe around its chieftain's bier!

Then shook the ground beneath the forward tread
Of Usna's host, as towards the town they sped
With high hope-burning hearts,—the mighty Three
Striding before their front ranks manfully,
Their shields advanced, until their armèd feet
Plashed through the fresh blood on the ruined street,
Where scattered far the slaughtered people lay,
Maid, mother, father, child and grandsire gray;—
Where all around beneath the smoke clouds dim
The ruined walls loomed up all black and grim,—
Wherein through rose-bright lattices the sun
Looked with glad beams the household folk upon,
Smiling upon their matin revelling,
Unweeting what the dreadful noon would bring!
And now as up the street the host had come
With vengeful pity and strange wonder dumb,
Young Deirdrè from her car that sight of bale
Marked with tear-streaming eyes and cheeks all pale,
And, with protecting arms full closely pressed,
Clasped her dear little son to her fond breast,
Hiding him 'neath her mantle's crimson fold:
While like a fierce bear of the savage wold,
That turns him in the evening's solitude
Unto his den, and finds his woolly brood
And faithful mate dead 'neath the hunter's lance
And weltering yet in gore; with dreadful glance
He stalks around and snuffs the tainted air,
Now growling stern, now darting here and there
His red eye searching for his mortal foe,—
So Naisi in his wrath strode to and fro,
Now gazing on the dead, now through the wrack
Burning to find the fell destroyer's track;
Till as his dark eyes wandered fiercely round,
Beneath a ruined porch a man he found
Old, wounded, with his back propped 'gainst the wall,
And thus the aged carle:—

“O champion tall,
I hail thee, for with dying eyes I see
Our strong avenger thou shalt surely be!
Long were the people of my name and race
Happy in this now hapless, woful place;
For we were traders inland folk between
And the blithe Rovers of the ocean green,
Protected, happy, till last eventide
Some men of Talc came in their cruel pride
Into our town, from where their pirate sails
Are yonder furled, safe from September gales,
Beyond the hill-ridge in a sheltered bay.
Into the town they came, and with wild fray
And riot filled the street, and stabbed the son
Of Elim our good chieftain, whereupon
We rose and slew them. Then the wrath was hot
Of him whose varlets fierce we sparèd not,
Fomorian Talc, the cruel pirate King,
Whose spears have ceased not yet their glittering
In yonder pass. He came. Thou see'st the rest!”

Down drooped the old man's head upon his breast,
And to the Gods his fierce soul cleft the sky!
And Naisi looked, and with dark threatening eye
Beheld afar, two rocky hills between,
Of spears and harnessed backs the moving sheen
Waveward receding, and right joyfully
Struck his great shield and cried, “'Tis he! 'tis he!
Fomorian Talc, the pirate King, who gave
Our herald's headless trunk unto the wave,
That slew this people!—Kindred, follow me!”

He turned, and with a roar full vengefully
The warriors followed his long strides, all fain
For battle, marching 'cross the shoreside plain
And 'tween the hills, until they gained a height
Green-swarded, flat-topped, and with coast flowers bright,
And sloping to the sea strand. Opposite,
Far as a bow-shaft in its flight could hit,
Arose an island, sea-disparted, steep,
With two long arms outstretched upon the deep,
Enclosing a bright bay whose shining mouth
Oped to the gentle breezes of the south.
Between the flat-topped hillock and the bound
Of the rough isle there lay a shallow sound
Whose waters at the neap-tide rose less high
Than the swarth mail-rings on a warrior's thigh;
And as the Usnanians looked across its tide,
Before them on the wild isle's hither side,
Dread sentinel o'er land and restless sea,
Frowned the Fomorian stronghold gloomily;
While in the sheltered elbow of the bay
Their black-hulled galleys at the anchor lay,
Numerous; as when to some wild island shore
Of Thulè from the north the gannets pour
At breeding time, and strike the arch that spans
The earth and ocean with their whirring vans,
Till settling slowly down upon the deep
They fold their wings, and, rocked in dreamless sleep,
Lie in close pack upon the swelling wave,
So lay the ships. Of hempen coil and stave,
Torn from the ribs of many a stranded bark,
A palisade along the neap-tide mark
Ran by the sound and up the island shore,
Circling the hold. Through this tall fence a door,
Grim with strong bar and boss and seamed with spray,
For the Fomorian rear-guard open lay.

Upon the height the Usnanians now upraised
The Osprey. Brightly in the sun he blazed
On his gay silken field; then tent by tent,
They pitched their ready camp, and eager went
To the height's verge and looked across its tide
To view their foes. Now either host descried
The other, ànd from their strong hearts gave forth
A hostile shout; as when, from out the north,
The Wind-God sends his blasts against an isle
Shaggy with oak and birch for many a mile;
Fiercely they rise, and on their foamy path
Fan the wild billows into rage and wrath,
And scourge the isle till all its tossing trees
Find tongues of thunder roaring winds and seas
Defiance, while the winds and seas reply
Booming along the shore: so rose the cry
'Tween bitter host and host;—from isle and height
Flashed all their brandished spears and harness bright
With dreadful flame; and hill and hollow shore
Gave back the warlike din!

Now rose once more
The voice of Naisi: “O ye faithful hearts!
The thought that thrills the soul, the tear that starts
Into a true man's eye, come back to me
When I think on your deathless constancy.
Great were our needs and trouble, greater yet
The glorious task to-morrow's end will set
For our brave hands of valor to achieve.
Ah! whatsoever meshes Fate may weave
Around a man whose will is stern and strong,
Her tangles bind around him, but not long:
The Fate-compeller, his hard hand of toil
Nerved by his valiant heart, will burst the coil.
The small white kernel in the woodland nut,
Within its fibrey shell of hardness shut,
When Spring returns, the life within, awake
With Nature's strength, its prison walls will break
To light and bloom! So we. Ah, what a ring
Fate tightened round us since the wrathful King
Pursued us with his vengeance; yet our hands
In each sore trial broke its circling bands
With inborn valor, till on this fair place
We stand with our deliverance face to face.
Fear not the end, for all that earth contains
Is in the brave man's grasp who fear disdains;
And ere a second sun shall gild the flowers,
Yon fleet of pirate galleys shall be ours,
To sail the sea to Alba's pleasant shore
Where the King's wrath can trouble us no more!”

And all that day they rested. Night came on,
And o'er the hostile camps the pale moon shone
Stilly and bright, and 'cross the silent sea
From Usna's hill oft rose wild minstrelsy,
While answering from the isle came savage songs
With clash of cymbals and barbaric gongs,
And frequent jest and gibe, and laugh of scorn
And the low grumbling of the guttural horn;
Till, nigh the third watch, over isle and hill
Deep slumber settled down, and all was still.

Now in the lonely hour when with her ray
The moon o'er ocean trailed a shimmering way
That the bright Spirit-folk to heaven might take,
A voice struck Naisi's ear and bade him wake.
Sudden he woke and wondering, to behold,
Beneath the couch's furs and cloth of gold,
His wife beside him wrapt in sleep serene,
And 'mid the pillows, in the moony sheen,
His little boy with wild eyes weird and bright
Laughing and crowing loud in huge delight,
With dimpled arms outstretched all silvered o'er
By moonbeams from the calm tent's open door,
As if some god-like Presence none could see
With kindly wiles there woke his infant glee!
There Naisi looked, and filled with sudden awe
A mighty sword beside its scabbard saw
Stuck two good span-lengths in the grassy earth,
And bright as though the moon had given it birth
And cast it flashing down to where it stood
Within the tent-door, glorying in her flood
Of silver light. Then back in calm repose
The strong babe sank, and, wildered, Naisi rose
And bent above the weapon, marvelling
If mortal hand e'er forged so fair a thing.
And as with curious eyes the hero gazed
On the gold hilt that bright with diamonds blazed,
A spirit voice through his whole being ran,
That seemed to say, “The gift of Mananan!
Take it, and fear not!” Then with eager hand
He grasped the hilt, and plucked the dazzling brand
From the soft earth, and from the tent withdrew
Into the light, and looked with wonder new
On the great blade whereon was picturèd
All shapes that live and move in Ocean's bed.
Long time he gazed upon its mimic sea,
Then whirled the weapon round full joyously
O'er his proud head in circles of bright flame
That made the night breeze whistle as it came.

He stood and paused; stole softly to the tent;
Donned his strong garb of war, and musing went
Down the smooth hill-side to the glassy sound,
And halted on the shore and gazed around
On rugged isle and smooth white-tented hill,
And moonlit shore, that lay all cold and still,
Sleeping as though they ne'er would wake again
To life and morning and the sea-lark's strain.
And, as he looked, a breeze blew on his face,
Perfumed with scents from all the lovely race
Of flowers that blossom by the windy sea,—
The fragrant pink, the wild anemone,
The armèd thistle ere its head grows old
And the winds blow its beard across the wold,
The foxglove, heather, and sweet-smelling thyme,—
Yea, all the flowers, from north to southland clime
That meet the morn with smiles, their odors sent,
With the fresh salty smell of ocean blent,
On that strange breeze that, waxing momently,
Fulfilled the hero with wild ecstasy
Of heart and brain, as though his footsteps fell
In heaven 'mid meadows of sweet asphodel!
And now, as stronger still the breeze blew by,
The sound's clear water caught the hero's eye:
Moveless it gleamed, with not one wave to show
That o'er its surface that weird breeze could blow.
Whereat great wonder filled him. To a tree,
That grew behind on the declivity
Of the green height, he turned: no motion there
Of branch or leaf;—not even his own dark hair
Was lifted by the marvellous wind. Around
Again the hero turned, and with a bound
Of his strong heart, and tingling cheeks all warm
From the fresh blood, beheld the giant form
Of a huge warrior, clad in sea-green mail,
Standing upon the shore. The flowing sail
Of a great bark appeared his cloak; the spray
That dances with the morning winds at play,
Topmost o'er all the woods on Scraba's elm,
Seemed the tall plume that waved above his helm,
While like a spire he stood, upon the sand
His long spear resting, towering from his hand
As a great larch's shaft in Ara's dell.
Silent he stood, the while his glances fell
On the Fomorian gate. A shadow vast
Betimes he seemed, wherethro' the moonbeams passed
With shimmering glow, or in his mantle caught,
Or linkèd mail, to Naisi's vision brought
Strange shifting shapes of all the things that be,
Living or dead, within the crystal sea!

Slowly he turned him round and bent his gaze
On Naisi. As the moon smiles o'er the haze
Of silvery splendor that some silent night
Of autumn robes the hill-ridge, kind and bright
The god-like Spectre smiled, till Usna's son
Felt the warm blood in tingling currents run
With rapture to the marrow of his bones.
Then with high-rising heart and prayerful tones
He spoke the Sea-god: “O thou, Mananan!
Friend of my race through many a century's span,
Since the first day their swelling sails they spread
To the light winds o'er Ocean's billowy bed!—
O mighty Sea-god! loud we call to thee
For help in this our dread extremity!
We ask thee not for valor; valor still
Is Usna's birthright, and the daring will
To do great deeds: but some strong sign of power,
Some portent for the battle's coming hour,
We ask of thee, O Patron great and kind!”

No voice replied, yet in his conscious mind
He felt these words: “Dare fortune thus and win!”
Then saw the towering Spectre striding in,—
Into the middle of the sound that lay
Calm at its lowest ebb. The shining ray
Of moonlight showed the spear then poised on high,
And from the Spectre's hands loud whirring fly
'Gainst the Fomorian gate, until it found
The midmost plank; then with a direful sound
Door, jamb and bolt, disparted, inward fell,
Sharp thundering; as in Dargle's ancient dell,
At the weird silent hour when Mother Night
Spreads her wide wings with pulsing stars all bright
From pole to pole, brooding o'er land and sea
With matron care for her great family
Of men and beasts and birds, and things that creep,
Or swim the wave, till all are hushed in sleep,—
Amidst the lull an aged oak-tree falls,
Hoarse rumbling down the wild dell's rocky walls
With deafening crash into the torrent's bed,—
The wood, upstarting, wakens all adread,
The scared birds' flapping wings and chattering jar,
And wild beasts' howls, are heard from near and far
Throughout the dell; so rose the dreadful clang
Of the great spear against the gate, and rang
From isle to height; the camps awoke; each man
Grasped at his arms and to the muster ran,
Shouting his hostile challenge as he went!—
Then Naisi on the height his keen eyes bent
A moment; when he turned, the waters wan
Far shivering lay, the mighty Shade was gone
In silence as he came;—a monstrous wave
Upheaved its broad gray back, and murmuring drave
Along the sound from answering shore to shore,
While clear and sweet, commingling with its roar,
Came sounds of blowing conch and breathing shell,
And of all things that on the ocean swell
Follow the mariner's bark with omens glad,—
The wheeling sea-fowl and the dolphin mad
With the keen zest of life; then silence came,
And the young Dawn arose in ruby flame!

Fair cleared the morn, yet slow the hours went by
That saw the sound's clear waters rising high
To that still point between the ebb and flow,
When the soft rack of seaweed, trailing slow,
Uncertain seemed of restless ocean's will,
Whether to go or come. From isle and hill
Full many a fierce eye watched the dubious weed,
Eager, till oceanward it 'gan recede
Along the calm sound, like the food-gorged snake
That through the meadowy grass its way doth take,
Slow seeking, green and long, the forest wide.
And now the mid-day fires on either side
Upflung their curling smoke, and meal-time passed,
For many a valiant man of meals the last;
And the great sun 'gan take his downward way
To cool his burning brow in ocean's spray,
Lengthening the mountain shadows; while the sound,
Still sinking foot by foot, at twilight found
The Usnanian and Fomorian face to face
Embattled, ready for the dreadful race
Into each other's arms, whose clasp is death
Or victory.

Now the wind with stronger breath
Blew from the east great fleecy clouds that veiled
The stars and rising moon as on they sailed
Across the wide-spread heaven. The brothers now
Stood by the tent upon the green height's brow;
Naisi with face against his young wife's face,
And arms around her in a fond embrace
At parting; Ardan, Ainli, standing near,
Each leaning on his yellow-bladed spear,
Watching with bleeding heart the efforts vain
Of Deirdrè to control the cruel pain
That tore her breast. No words dark Naisi said,
But to her brazen chair his sad wife led
Before the tent, and kissed his little son
And placed him on her lap; then one by one
Looked in his brothers' eyes with steadfast look,
That half of high-souled confidence partook,
And half anxiety for what might chance
To each and all in the fell fight. One glance,—
One yearning glance of love on child and wife,—
And he was gone.

Now for the dreadful strife.
Young Ainli took the left: the rightward wing
With hearts of fire heard Ardan's harness ring,
As to the front he strode; a moonlight beam
Fell upon Naisi's arms with sudden gleam
Before the central battle, while he gave
The word of onset. As the long reeds wave
With a great noise round Maga's glimmering meres
Before the storm's first blast, so waved the spears
Of Usna, when with loud-resounding tread
The host advanced: and as from Gaulty's head,
When from the south the thawing March winds blow,
With loosened rocks and earth the piled-up snow
Of winter rushes into Bala's lake
With a great roar that all the hills doth shake,
So rattling loud, so thundering in their might,
Close packed they moved, and from the echoing height
Dashed headlong in their fury. High was tost
The spray before their tall knees, as they crossed
The shallow sound; while, as the starlings rise
From the autumnal fields and shade the skies
With countless wings whirring upon the wind,
So rose the Fomor's arrows from behind
The palisade in clouds, and bit and clashed
On shield and brazen mail: yet forward dashed
The Usnanians, still unbroken, undismayed,
Till 'tween the tough ribs of the palisade
Some crossed the spear shaft with their stubborn foes,
Some on the woven fence rained blows on blows
Of sounding battle-axe and bitter sword!
Then fast the archers and the slingers poured
Their missiles inward, till the mighty cry
Of battle tore unto the clouded sky,
Wherefrom the moon would gleam betimes and show
The blood-stained water, and the fitful glow
Of brandished weapons and opposing shields
Along that ridge of death where no man yields,—
The dauntless heart, the coward, or the base,—
Save to the grisly King whom all must face!
Now from the leftward wing a mighty yell
On Naisi's watchful ear triumphant fell;—
There Ainli, first to gain the foeman's pale,
Felt the light arrows smite his shield and mail;
And like a fierce young bull whose brindled flanks
The hunters gore by Lara's reedy banks
In the far wild, till with loud bellowing roar
And tail outstretched he scours along the shore,
Charging his foes, so Ainli, when the flight
Of shafts first clashed against his harness bright,
Rushed forward shouting, and confronted there—
The fence between them—grim-browed Adamair,
Lord of Hebridean isles, who muttering low
Cast a huge javelin at his youthful foe.
Nimbly young Ainli leapt aside: the spear,
Thirsting for heroes' blood, whizzed by his ear,
Glanced from a rock, and then rebounded high,
Still whizzing, half across the sound to fly
Ere in the brine it splashed. Then quick as run
The lightnings, Ainli from his shoulder spun
His brass-bound javelin with unerring hand:
High on the throat, above the golden band
That girt the Rover's neck, the brazen blade
Struck deep and onward its fell pathway made
Under the skull-base;—on the bloody bent
Clashing the hero fell, and Ainli sent
A fierce shout through the night, while all his men
With a wild yell to battle rushed again.
And Naisi heard the cry, and answer gave
With a great shout, and, forward bounding, drave
His mighty spear-head through the ponderous door,
By deft Fomorian hands replaced once more,—
Through boss and sea-worn plank, intent to slay,
Crashing, the cruel spear-head made its way,
Far piercing through a soldier's back and breast
Who stood behind, and bandied gibe and jest,
Laughing, with his compeers,—ah! knowing not
That Death oft seeketh man's securest spot,
To strike unseen! Down drooped the soldier's head,
And a grim pallor o'er his features spread,
And fast his heart poured forth its crimson tide,
And hanging on the spear impaled he died!
Then, as the shy wild deer that from the wood
Come forth to drink the streamlet's crystal flood,
And quench their eager thirst, and gambol free
Over the ferny glade, till suddenly
They hear the savage growl and furious charge
Of a huge wolf from out the forest's marge,
Away they bound with trembling limbs,—away
From the fell danger in their blind dismay;
So the Fomorian guard, struck pale with awe
When the great spear within the door they saw
Transfix their comrade, from their shelter fled
Behind the quaking bulwark. Terror led
Their flight, and winged their coward feet amain,
As Naisi with a shout plucked back again
His long spear, and the armèd corse fell down
Clattering upon the causeway. Then the stowne
Of war rose higher still; from pliant wrist
And ready hand full many a javelin hissed
Its serpent song far-darting, bucklers clanged
And harness rattled, and the bowstrings twanged
Resounding, and the arrows fell like sleet
On Blama from the storm-cloud sharp and fleet
Down whizzing; round the pale, without, within,
The thick ranks strove, and o'er the dreadful din
Fury with foamy lips and blinded eyes
Raised her harsh voice till earth and darkened skies
And deep sea trembled!

As a captain brave
Who steers his bark through stormy wind and wave,
Naisi, now here, now there, his battle led,
And with high word and deed their valor fed
Unflagging, though the gradual rising tide
Floated full many a corse, and far was dyed
With blood-streaks of his kindred. On his ear
The tramp of a great host now drawing near
Down the wild isle there fell, and through the gloom
A broad black banner came, with many a plume
Behind it waving; then a savage roar
Of joy arose that shook the island shore
From the Fomorian ranks. “With swooping wing
The Eagle comes! Great Talc! the King! the King!”
They cried exulting; then a sudden trace
Of moonlight fell, and showed the dreadful face
Of the Fomorian King, as down he came,
His black hair on the wind, his eyes aflame
With cruel light; then all was dark; the shower
Of darts fell tenfold thick, the fatal hour
Of the great Three seemed nigh. From the attack
On the right wing strong Ardan turned his back
A moment; on the centre, Naisi's shout
Was heard in vain by his retreating rout
Of files confused; yet on the leftward fray
Young Ainli, like the hill-cat to its prey
Clung to the palisade full stubbornly.
And now, as Naisi turned, the rising sea
Rolled inward wave by wave, and o'er his waist
Lapped at his mail-shirt, and full soon embraced
His warriors arm-pit high and stopped their flight;
And, as he yearning looked upon the height
To see his loved ones, sudden overhead
The moon shone out through parting clouds and shed
A long bright shaft of glory, slanting down
Athwart the darkness on the hillock's crown,
Showing young Deirdrè on her brazen chair,
Holding her child aloft in her despair
And terror, that his little eyes might see
His father's death scene. Gleaming vividly
The light illumed them, then came trailing fast
Its splendor down the sloping hill, and passed
Across the sound still gleaming, and was gone;
And in that fleeting moment, even as one
Who gropes his way through midnight woods and sees
At last some welcome light amid the trees,
Bringing new courage, Naisi's soul took fire
At sight of his belov'd ones. On the dire,
Dark ruin of his battle his keen gaze
Fell hopeful, as that sudden moonlight blaze
Flashed on the sound, and showed amid the wreck
A mast wind-torn from some great galley's deck
Slow floating towards him. Like the Trump of Doom
Unto his startled foes rang through the gloom
His rallying shout: his warriors turned; the mast
Some poised on their strong shoulders, and the blast
Sang through their plumes, as toward the hostile door,
With a great rush, at Naisi's word they tore,
Shouting, till like a war-ram 'gainst a wall
The great beam struck the door whose direful fall
Followed the shock like thunder. Inward poured
The Usnanians now. Out flashed the Sea-god's sword
Flaming in Naisi's grasp, and far and near
Shrank the Fomorians, shuddering in their fear
Before him, as they saw the dreadful brand
Rising and falling in the hero's hand!

Now Ainli, Ardan's voices left and right
Like cheering trumpets echoed o'er the fight,
While fast before their charge they swept the foe;
As two converging fires, when strong winds blow
In a great wood at night, with fearful glare
Come roaring on, each wild beast from his lair
Rushing in terror, onward thundering drove
Their thick spear-bristling battles, while above,
The clouds disparting, bright the moon sailed out
In the blue heaven, and showed the helpless rout
Of the Fomorians hedged around, and gored
By showers of shafts and javelins. Shrilly roared
The wind; again the moon hid; Mercy fled
The field despairing; Rage or coward Dread
Possessed all hearts; while, raising her wild shriek,
Slaughter with crimson wings and raven beak
Flapped the black sky above exultingly:
Till, as the sinking moon from o'er the sea
Cast her last beams ere morn across the isle,
Weirdly they glimmered on the ghastly pile
Of pirate dead that cumbered all the strand,
Whereby strong Naisi stood, in his left hand
Holding aloft the grim and gory head
Of the Fomorian King!

Now rosy red
The morn arises, and the clouds of night
From sea and glittering landscape take their flight
Before the conquering sun; and with them go
The clouds of doubt, of terror, and of woe
From Deirdrè's mind, as on her chariot seat
She sits with Gaier, and hears the armèd feet
Tramp round her of her husband's host; while he
Walks by the car, the light of victory
Within his dark eyes drowned in love. Before
The chariot, as they gain the sunlit shore,
To cross the sound, the maids and children sing
Their songs of joy, and woven garlands fling
On the white steeds and car; the harpers play
Their notes of triumph, while the trumpets bray
Hoarse symphony. The sound is crossed, they gain
The ships and set their wide sails o'er the main,
And clear the bay, and with a favoring wind
Leave the wild isle and their dead foes behind,
And, steering north by east, at length they view
Slieve League's high head loom o'er the waters blue,
And thence by Arran's rocks and Torry's spray,
For Alba's friendly shores they sail away,
Rejoicing, till their long black galleys ride
Moyle's hoarse-resounding, high-wave-curling tide!