Classic Poem

I.

The evening shadows sweetly fall
Along the hills of Donegal,
Sweetly the rising moonbeams play
Along the shores of Inver Bay,
As smooth and white Loch Eask expands
As Rosapenna's silvery sands,
And quiet reigns o'er all thy fields,
Clan Dalaigh of the golden shields.

II.

The Fairy Gun is heard no more
To boom within the cavern'd shore,
With smoother roll the torrents flow
Adown the rocks of Assaroe;
Securely, till the coming day,
The red deer couch in far Glenvah,
And all is peace and calm around
O'Donnell's castled moat and mound.

III.

But in the hall there feast to-night
Full many a kern and many a knight,
And gentle dames, and clansmen strong,
And wandering Bards, with store of song:
The board is piled with smoking kine,
And smooth bright cups of Spanish wine,
And fish and fowl from stream and shaw,
And fragrant mead and usquebaugh.

IV.

The chief is at the table's head —
'Tis Con, the son of Hugh the Red —
The heir of Conal Golban's line;
With pleasure flushed, with pride and wine,
He cries, " Our dames adjudge it wrong,
To end our feast without the song;
Have we no Bard the strain to raise?
No foe to taunt, no maid to praise?

V.

" Where Beauty dwells the Bard should dwell,
What sweet lips speak the Bard should tell;
'Tis he should look for starry eyes,
And tell love's watchers where they rise:
To-night, if lips and eyes could do,
Bards were not wanting in Tirhugh;
For where have lips a rosier light,
And where are eyes more starry bright? "

VI.

Then young hearts beat along the board,
To praise the maid that each adored,
And lips as young would fain disclose
The love within; but one arose,
Grey as the rocks beside the main,
Grey as the mist upon the plain, —
A thoughtful, wandering, minstrel man,
And thus the aged bard began: —

VII.

" O Con , benevolent hand of peace!
O tower of valour firm and true!
Like mountain fawns, like snowy fleece,
Move the sweet maidens of Tirhugh
Yet though through all thy realm I've strayed,
Where green hills rise and white waves fall,
I have not seen so fair a maid
As once I saw by Cushendall.

VIII.

" O Con , thou hospitable Prince!
Thou, of the open heart and hand,
Full oft I've seen the crimson tints
Of evening on the western land.
I've wandered north, I've wandered south,
Throughout Tirhugh in hut and hall,
But never saw so sweet a mouth
As whispered love by Cushendall.

IX.

" O Con , munificent in gifts!
I've seen the full round harvest moon
Gleam through the shadowy autumn drifts
Upon thy royal rock of Doune.
I've seen the stars that glittering lie
O'er all the night's dark mourning pall,
But never saw so bright an eye
As lit the glens of Cushendall.

X.

" I've wandered with a pleasant toil,
And still I wander in my dreams;
Even from thy white-stoned beach, Loch Foyle,
To Desmond of the flowing streams.
I've crossed the fair green plains of Meath,
To Dublin held in Saxon thrall;
But never saw such pearly teeth,
As her's that smiled by Cushendall.