23
Departed spirits of the Mighty dead!
Ye that at Marathon and Leuctra bled!
Friends of the world! restore your swords to man,
Fight in his sacred cause, and lead the van!
Yet for Sarmatia's tears of blood atone,
And make her arm puissant as your own!
Oh! once again to Freedom's cause return,
The patriot tell—The Bruce of Bannockburn!
FLIGHT OF O'CONNOR'S CHILD AND DEATH OF HER LOVER.
'At bleeting of the wild watch fold
Thus sang my love—'Oh, come with me!
Our bark is on the lake—behold
Our steeds are fastened to the tree.
Come far from Castle-Connor's clans!
Come with thy belted forestere,
And I beside the lake of swans,
Shall hunt for thee the fallow deer;
And build thy hut, and bring thee home
The wild fowl and the honey-comb
And berries from the wood provide,
And play my clarshech by thy side—
Then come, my love!'—How could I stay?
Our nimble stag hounds tracked the way,
And I pursued by moonless skies,
The light of Connocht, Moran's eyes!
And fast and far, before the star
Of day-spring, rushed we through the glade,
And saw at dawn the lofty bawn
Of Castle-Connor fade.
Sweet was to us the hermitage
Of this unploughed, untrodden shore;
Like birds all joyou from the cage.
