Page:Irish minstrelsy, vol 2 - Hardiman.djvu/41

From some high region—thy resplendent home,
To mortal converse, since thou deign'st to come;
Say, art thou she, for whom the compassed towers
Of Ilium toppled o'er her failing powers?
Or Deirdre, lovely nymph, for whom the glave
Was purpled in the bosoms of the brave?
Or Ceirnit, sage inventress, she who taught
Our land the lesson she from Alba brought;
And bade the crystal current of the stream
Heave into life the mill's mechanic frame?⁴
In accents calm and sweet as ever filled
Man's ear and heart, from honied lips distilled,
The maiden answered,—doubtless true the fame
Which you recount to grace each storied name;
But mine is Cliona—the beetling side
Of the tall rock my home;⁵ to pour the tide
Of coming things before you I am here—
Bright be the revel, let no envious tear
Dash the deep current of the mantling bowl,
In tones of rapture pour the joyous soul:
Exulting fiercely, Martin's followers⁶ rave,
Your Charles, they say, lies mould'ring in the grave;
But heed them not, for in the forts of hills
A prouder theme the pealing anthem fills;
When bards with loftiest strains indignant vie,
Proclaiming that false broods mendacity.