Classic Poem

A ROMANTIC BALLAD FOUNDED ON THE HISTORY OF
IRELAND

Scene: A Cave overhanging the Shannon

BARD

Smooth Shan-avon! Eirin's glory!
Of thy calm my heart would borrow;
Still inspire my dream's sweet story,
Wake me not so soon to sorrow!

Green Shan-avon, wild and lonely!
Rave not while the Minstrel slumbers;
Soothe his heart of sadness only
By thy melancholy numbers.

Hear the woodquest softly moaning
Thro' her honeysuckle bowers,
Hear the wind-bell sweetly toning
In the simple ear of flowers.

Son of the far distant fountain!
What rude blast awakes thy willows?
Strong descendant of the mountain!
Why these winter-swollen billows?

Broad Shan-avon! Island-sund'rer!
Now I see what burdens press thee,
Loud Shan-avon! streamy thund'rer!
For thy warning voice I bless thee.

Lo! adown the valley steering,
With their pennons dyed for slaughter,
Full two hundred barques appearing,
Trample thy bright road of water!

Like a brood of swans together
Proudly breasting thro' the rushes,
On they come! while each beneath her,
Heaving high, the billow crushes.

Round the woody headland booming
Toward my cavern-cliff they bend them;
Shadowy o'er the waters looming,
This shall its dark shelter lend them.

BARD

Welcome! — Why the Red-branch waving,
Flower of heroes! Young Hidallan?
Wherefore these wild trumpets raving
Call to arms green Inisfallan?

CHIEF

Bard! to battle I have bound me —
Eirin's red-branch now must shade her —
With my young war-breathers round me,
To repel the bold invader!

Lochlin's roving sons of Ocean
Crowd Shan-avon's bay with galleys;
Sword and brand in fiery motion
Waste Momonia's peaceful valleys!

Prophet! skilled in battle-omen,
Read his fate for young Hidallan;
Shall we triumph o'er the foemen?
Shall we save green Inisfallan?

BARD

Ai! alas my heart foretold it!
This the secret of my sadness;
O that ere thou didst unfold it
Melancholy turned to madness!

Phantoms, choakt with hideous laughter,
Nightly troop around my dwelling,
Visions dim come bleeding after,
Woe to Inisfail foretelling!

Lochlin's sons shall triumph o'er her,
Shed her own best blood upon her;
Long in chains shall she deplore her,
Long shall weep her foul dishonor!

CHIEF

Bard! to no brave chief belonging,
Hath green Eirin no defenders?
See! her sons to battle thronging,
Gael's broad-swords and Ir's bow benders!

Clan Tir-oen! Clan Tir-conel!
Atha's royal sept of Conacht!
Desmond red! and dark O'Donel!
Fierce O'More! and stout M'Donacht!

Hear the sounding spears of Tara,
On the blue shields how they rattle!
Hear the reckless Lord of Lara
Humming his short song of battle!

Ullin's Chief, the great O'Nial,
Sternly with his brown axe playing,
Mourns for the far hour of trial
And disdains this long delaying!

Gray O'Ruark's self doth chide me,
Thro' his iron beard and hoary,
Murmuring in his breast beside me —
" On to our old fields of glory! "

Red-branch crests, like roses flaming,
Toss with scorn around Hi-dallan,
Battle, blood, and death proclaiming, —
Fear'st thou still for Inisfallan?

BARD

Mighty-hearted! mighty-handed!
Ne'er Ierne nourished braver,
Yet in vain to battle banded,
Die they may, but cannot save her.

CHIEF

Woe! and must the green Ierne
Yield her to the Ocean-rangers?
Say! by skill accurst, discern ye
She must ever yield to strangers?

BARD

Many a sun shall set in sadness,
Many a moon shall rise in mourning,
Ere a distant note of gladness
Breathe of Liberty returning.

CHIEF

Say; should we, despite thy omen,
Onward move, to battle bending,
Shall we fall without our foemen?
Shall we die without defending?

BARD

Stern shall be the strife, and bloody,
Ere our fate shall own a stronger,
Streams with slaughter shall run ruddy,
Eirin's fields be green no longer!

CHIEF

Die then! in thy cave unnoted,
Thou that would'st from battle warn us!
Tho' we may be death-devoted,
Glory's wreath shall still adorn us!
Souls of fire! for battle sighing,
Bend your white sails round Hi-dallan;
What desire we more than dying,
If we die for Inisfallan?

BARD

Stay! O stay! Shan-avon's billows
In a shroud of water wind them;
Bloodless be their frothy pillows,
If they leave the Bard behind them.

CHIEF

Son of the same Land that bore us,
Beats thy kindred pulse so proudly?
Strike thy war-harp then before us,
Raise the song of battle loudly!
Though forlorn and doomed to slaughter,
Chant some gay and gallant ditty,
Lest Shan-avon's murmuring water
Drown our triumph in its pity!

LAY OF THE FORLORN

Farewell to Sliev Morna,
The hills of the winds!
Where the hunters of Ullin,
Pursue the brown hinds!
Farewell to Loch Ern where the wild eagles dwell!
Farewell to Shan-avon, Shan-avon, farewell!

Farewell to bright tresses,
Farewell to bright eyes,
To the snow-covered bosoms
That heave with their sighs!
Long, long for their heroes in vain may they well,
Farewell to fair maidens, fair maidens farewell!

Farewell to our castles,
Our oak-blazing halls,
Where the red fox is prowling
Alone in the walls!
Farewell to the joys of the harp and the shell,
Farewell to Ierne, Ierne, farewell.

'Twas a wild and reckless measure,
Yet, the Minstrel's heart relenting,
Tho' he kept the tone of pleasure,
Still his mirth was like lamenting.

On they rushed to death, undaunted,
Tow'rds the van of Lochlin striding,
Where her dusky pennons flaunted,
Where her mountain ships were riding!

Furious was the fight, and deadly,
Whilst the sun in blood descended;
When next morn he rose as redly,
Scarce the cruel fight was ended.

Long, Terne's fate delaying,
Fell her sons in battle glorious!
Less subdued than tired of slaying,
Ev'n as victims still victorious.

There they sank, opprest by numbers,
There, where this brave fortune found him,
Every son of Eirin slumbers,
With, at least, five foes around him!

Knight, and Chief, and Bard, and Bonacht,
Died with young, with brave Hi-dallan,
Ullin's hope, and flower of Conacht,
All the pride of Innisfallan!