Conloch, haughty, bold, and brave,
Rides upon Ierne's wave! —
Flush'd with loud-applauding fame,
From Dunscaik's walls he came;
Came to visit Erin's coast;
Came to prove her mighty Host!
Welcome, O youth of the intrepid mien,
In glittering armour drest!
Yet, thus to see thee come, I ween,
Speaks a stray'd course, illustrious Guest!
But now, that safe the Eastern gale
Has given thee to our view;
Recount thy travels, give the high detail
Of those exploits from whence thy glory grew.
Do not, like others of Albania's land,
Reject our fair demand;
Nor from its sheath the sword of conquest call,
To cause thy youth, like theirs, to fall:
Should'st thou, like them, with fruitless pride, delay
The usual tribute of the bridge to pay.
" If such, (the youth replied) ere while,
" Has been the practice of your worthless Isle;
" Yet never more a Chief shall it disgrace,
" For this right arm shall your proud Law efface. "
Thus, while he spoke, collecting all his might,
Fierce he addrest his conquering arms to fight;
No stop, no stay his furious faulchion found,
Till his dire hand an hundred warriors bound:
Vanquish'd they sunk beneath his dreadful sway,
And low on earth their bleeding glories lay.
Then Conor to his blushing host exclaim'd,
" Of all our Chiefs, for feats of prowess fam'd,
" Is there not one our glory to restore?
" So cold is then become our martial heat,
" That none will dare yon haughty youth to meet,
" His name and errand to explore,
" The slaughter of his dreadful arm restrain,
" And force his pride its purpose to explain! "
'Twas then the kindling soul of Conall rose,
Victorious name! the terror of his foes!
His threatening arm aloft the hero rais'd,
And in his grasp the deadly faulchion blaz'd!
Secure of conquest, on he moved,
The youthful foe to meet;
But there a force, till then unknown, he proved!
Amazed we saw the strange defeat;
We saw our Champion bound;
Subdued beneath fierce Conloch's arm he lay;
No more, as erst, to boast unvanquished sway,
A name, till then, for victory still renown'd.
" Quick let a rapid courier fly!
(Indignant Auliffe cried,)
" Quick with the shameful tidings let him hie,
" And to our aid the first of heroes call,
" From fair Dundalgan's lofty wall,
" Or Dethin's ancient pride! "
" Welcome, Cucullin! mighty chief!
" Though late, O welcome to thy friend's relief!
" Behold the havoc of yon deadly blade!
" Behold our hundred warriors bite the ground!
" Behold thy friend, thy Conall bound!
" Behold — nor be thy vengeful arm delay'd! "
" No wonder (he replied,) each foreign knight
" Should now insult our coast!
" Lost are the souls of martial might,
" The pride of Erin's host!
" Oh! since your deaths, ye fav'rite sons of fame!
" Dismay, defeat, distress, and well-earn'd shame,
" Alike our loss, and our reproach proclaim! —
" For me, my friends, what now remains,
" When I behold yon mighty Chief in chains?
" With such a hero's conqueror should I cope,
" What could my humbler boast of prowess hope?
" How should you think my arms could e'er prevail,
" Where Conall-Cearnach's skill and courage fail? " —
" And wilt thou then decline the fight,
" O arm of Erin's fame!
" Her glorious, her unconquered knight,
" Her first and fav'rite name!
" No, brave Cucullin! mighty chief
" Of bright victorious steel!
" Fly to thy Conall, to thy friend's relief,
" And teach the foe superior force to feel! "
Then, with firm step, and dauntless air,
Cucullin went, and thus the foe addrest:
" Let me, O valiant knight, (he cried)
" Thy courtesy request!
" To me thy purpose, and thy name confide,
" And what thy lineage and thy land declare?
" Do not my friendly hand refuse,
" And proffer'd peace decline; — —
" Yet, if thou wilt the doubtful combat chuse,
" The combat then, O fair-hair'd youth! be thine! "
" Never shall aught so base as fear
" The hero's bosom sway!
" Never, to please a curious ear,
" Will I my fame betray!
" No, gallant chief! I will to none
" My name, my purpose, or my birth reveal;
" Nor even from thee the combat will I shun,
" Strong though thine arm appear, and tried thy martial " steel.
" Yet hear me own, that, did the vow
" Of chivalry allow,
" I would not thy request withstand,
" But gladly take, in peace, thy proffer'd hand.
" So does that face each hostile thought controul!
" So does that noble mien possess my soul! "
Reluctant then the chiefs commenc'd the fight,
Till glowing honor rous'd their slumbering might!
Dire was the strife each valiant arm maintain'd,
And undecided long their fates remain'd;
For, till that hour, no eye had ever view'd
A field so fought, a conquest so pursu'd!
At length Cucullin's kindling soul arose;
Indignant shame recruited fury lends;
With fatal aim his glittering lance he throws,
And low on earth the dying youth extends.
Flown with the spear, his rage forsook
The hero's generous breast,
And, with soft voice, and pitying look,
He thus his brave unhappy foe addrest.
" Gallant youth! that wound, I fear,
" Is past the power of art to heal!
" Now then, thy name and lineage let me hear,
" And whence, and why we see thee here, reveal!
" That so thy tomb with honor we may raise,
" And give to glory's song thy deathless praise! "
" Approach! " — the wounded youth reply'd: —
" Yet — yet more closely nigh!
" On this dear earth — by that dear side
" O let me die! — —
" Thy hand — my Father! — hapless chief! —
" And you, ye warriors of our isle, draw near,
" The anguish of my soul to hear,
" For I must kill a father's heart with grief!
" O first of heroes! hear thy son,
" Thy Conloch's parting breath!
" See Dunscaik's early care!
" See Dundalgan's cherish'd heir!
" See, alas! thy hapless child,
" By female arts beguil'd,
" And by a fatal promise won,
" Falls the sad victim of untimely death! "
" O my lost son! — relentless fate! —
" By this curst arm to fall! —
" Come wretched Aife, from thy childless hall,
" And learn the woes that thy pierc'd soul await!
" Why wert thou absent in this fatal hour? —
" A mother's tender power
" Might sure have sway'd my Conloch's filial breast!
" My son, my hero then had stood confest!
But it is past! — he dies! — ah woe! —
" Come, Aife, come, and let thy sorrows flow!
" Bathe his dear wounds! — support his languid head!
" Wash, with a mother's tears, away the blood a father shed! "
" No more (the dying youth exclaim'd,)
" No more on Aife call!
" Curst be her art! — the treacherous snare she fram'd
" Has wrought thy Conloch's fall!
" Curse on the tongue that arm'd my hand
" Against a father's breast!
" That bound me to obey her dire command,
" And with a lying tale my soul possest;
" That made me think my youth no more thy care,
" And bade me of thy cruel arts beware!
" Curst be the tongue to whose deceit
" The anguish of my father's heart I owe.
" While thus, to bathe his sacred feet,
" Through this unhappy side,
" He sees the same rich crimson tide
" That fills his own heroic bosom flow!
" O yes! too surely am I thine!
" No longer I the fatal truth conceal.
" Never before did any foe
" The name of Conloch know;
" Nor would I now to thee my birth reveal,
" But safety, even from thy dear hand decline,
" Did not my ebbing blood, and short'ning breath,
" Secure thy Conloch's honor — in his death.
" But, ah Cucullin! — dauntless knight! —
" Ah! — had'st thou better mark'd the fight!
" Thy skill in arms might soon have made thee know
" That I was only half a foe!
" Thou would'st have seen, for glory though I fought,
" Defence, — not blood I sought.
" Thou would'st have seen, from that dear breast,
" Nature and love thy Conloch's arm arrest!
" Thou would'st have seen his spear instinctive stray;
" And, when occasion dar'd its force,
" Still from that form it fondly turn'd away,
" And gave to air its course. "
No answer the unhappy fire return'd,
But wildly thus, in frantic sorrow mourn'd.
" O my lov'd Conloch! beam of glory's light!
" O set not yet in night!
" Live, live my son, to aid thy father's sword!
" O live, to conquest and to fame restor'd!
" Companions of the war, my son, we'll go,
" Mow down the ranks, and chase the routed foe!
" Ourselves an host, sweep o'er the prostrate field,
" And squadrons to my hero's arm shall yield!
" Not mighty Erin's self, from wave to wave,
" Not all her chiefs could our joint prowess brave!
" Gone! — art thou gone? — O wretched eyes!
" See where my child! my murder'd Conloch lies!
" Lo! — in the dust his shield of conquest laid!
" And prostrate, now, his once victorious blade!
" O let me turn from the soul-torturing sight!
" O wretch! deserted and forlorn!
" With age's sharpest anguish torn! —
" Stript of each tender tie! each fond delight!
" Cruel father! — cruel stroke! —
" See the heart of nature broke! —
" Yes, I have murder'd thee, my lovely child!
" Red with thy blood this fatal hand I view! —
" Oh, from the sight distraction will ensue,
" And grief will turn with tearless horror wild! — —
" Reason! — whither art thou fled? —
" Art thou with my Conloch dead? —
" Is this lost wretch no more thy care?
" Not one kind ray to light my soul;
" To free it from the black controul
" Of this deep, deep despair! — —
" As the lone skiff is toss'd from wave to wave,
" No pilot's hand to save!
" Thus, thus my devious soul is borne!
" Wild with my woes, I only live to mourn!
" But all in death will shortly end,
" And sorrow to the grave its victim send!
" Yes, yes, I feel the near approach of peace,
" And misery soon will cease!
" As the ripe fruit, at shady autumn's call,
" Shakes to each blast, and trembles to its fall;
" I wait the hour that shall afford me rest,
" And lay, O earth! my sorrows in thy breast.
Rides upon Ierne's wave! —
Flush'd with loud-applauding fame,
From Dunscaik's walls he came;
Came to visit Erin's coast;
Came to prove her mighty Host!
Welcome, O youth of the intrepid mien,
In glittering armour drest!
Yet, thus to see thee come, I ween,
Speaks a stray'd course, illustrious Guest!
But now, that safe the Eastern gale
Has given thee to our view;
Recount thy travels, give the high detail
Of those exploits from whence thy glory grew.
Do not, like others of Albania's land,
Reject our fair demand;
Nor from its sheath the sword of conquest call,
To cause thy youth, like theirs, to fall:
Should'st thou, like them, with fruitless pride, delay
The usual tribute of the bridge to pay.
" If such, (the youth replied) ere while,
" Has been the practice of your worthless Isle;
" Yet never more a Chief shall it disgrace,
" For this right arm shall your proud Law efface. "
Thus, while he spoke, collecting all his might,
Fierce he addrest his conquering arms to fight;
No stop, no stay his furious faulchion found,
Till his dire hand an hundred warriors bound:
Vanquish'd they sunk beneath his dreadful sway,
And low on earth their bleeding glories lay.
Then Conor to his blushing host exclaim'd,
" Of all our Chiefs, for feats of prowess fam'd,
" Is there not one our glory to restore?
" So cold is then become our martial heat,
" That none will dare yon haughty youth to meet,
" His name and errand to explore,
" The slaughter of his dreadful arm restrain,
" And force his pride its purpose to explain! "
'Twas then the kindling soul of Conall rose,
Victorious name! the terror of his foes!
His threatening arm aloft the hero rais'd,
And in his grasp the deadly faulchion blaz'd!
Secure of conquest, on he moved,
The youthful foe to meet;
But there a force, till then unknown, he proved!
Amazed we saw the strange defeat;
We saw our Champion bound;
Subdued beneath fierce Conloch's arm he lay;
No more, as erst, to boast unvanquished sway,
A name, till then, for victory still renown'd.
" Quick let a rapid courier fly!
(Indignant Auliffe cried,)
" Quick with the shameful tidings let him hie,
" And to our aid the first of heroes call,
" From fair Dundalgan's lofty wall,
" Or Dethin's ancient pride! "
" Welcome, Cucullin! mighty chief!
" Though late, O welcome to thy friend's relief!
" Behold the havoc of yon deadly blade!
" Behold our hundred warriors bite the ground!
" Behold thy friend, thy Conall bound!
" Behold — nor be thy vengeful arm delay'd! "
" No wonder (he replied,) each foreign knight
" Should now insult our coast!
" Lost are the souls of martial might,
" The pride of Erin's host!
" Oh! since your deaths, ye fav'rite sons of fame!
" Dismay, defeat, distress, and well-earn'd shame,
" Alike our loss, and our reproach proclaim! —
" For me, my friends, what now remains,
" When I behold yon mighty Chief in chains?
" With such a hero's conqueror should I cope,
" What could my humbler boast of prowess hope?
" How should you think my arms could e'er prevail,
" Where Conall-Cearnach's skill and courage fail? " —
" And wilt thou then decline the fight,
" O arm of Erin's fame!
" Her glorious, her unconquered knight,
" Her first and fav'rite name!
" No, brave Cucullin! mighty chief
" Of bright victorious steel!
" Fly to thy Conall, to thy friend's relief,
" And teach the foe superior force to feel! "
Then, with firm step, and dauntless air,
Cucullin went, and thus the foe addrest:
" Let me, O valiant knight, (he cried)
" Thy courtesy request!
" To me thy purpose, and thy name confide,
" And what thy lineage and thy land declare?
" Do not my friendly hand refuse,
" And proffer'd peace decline; — —
" Yet, if thou wilt the doubtful combat chuse,
" The combat then, O fair-hair'd youth! be thine! "
" Never shall aught so base as fear
" The hero's bosom sway!
" Never, to please a curious ear,
" Will I my fame betray!
" No, gallant chief! I will to none
" My name, my purpose, or my birth reveal;
" Nor even from thee the combat will I shun,
" Strong though thine arm appear, and tried thy martial " steel.
" Yet hear me own, that, did the vow
" Of chivalry allow,
" I would not thy request withstand,
" But gladly take, in peace, thy proffer'd hand.
" So does that face each hostile thought controul!
" So does that noble mien possess my soul! "
Reluctant then the chiefs commenc'd the fight,
Till glowing honor rous'd their slumbering might!
Dire was the strife each valiant arm maintain'd,
And undecided long their fates remain'd;
For, till that hour, no eye had ever view'd
A field so fought, a conquest so pursu'd!
At length Cucullin's kindling soul arose;
Indignant shame recruited fury lends;
With fatal aim his glittering lance he throws,
And low on earth the dying youth extends.
Flown with the spear, his rage forsook
The hero's generous breast,
And, with soft voice, and pitying look,
He thus his brave unhappy foe addrest.
" Gallant youth! that wound, I fear,
" Is past the power of art to heal!
" Now then, thy name and lineage let me hear,
" And whence, and why we see thee here, reveal!
" That so thy tomb with honor we may raise,
" And give to glory's song thy deathless praise! "
" Approach! " — the wounded youth reply'd: —
" Yet — yet more closely nigh!
" On this dear earth — by that dear side
" O let me die! — —
" Thy hand — my Father! — hapless chief! —
" And you, ye warriors of our isle, draw near,
" The anguish of my soul to hear,
" For I must kill a father's heart with grief!
" O first of heroes! hear thy son,
" Thy Conloch's parting breath!
" See Dunscaik's early care!
" See Dundalgan's cherish'd heir!
" See, alas! thy hapless child,
" By female arts beguil'd,
" And by a fatal promise won,
" Falls the sad victim of untimely death! "
" O my lost son! — relentless fate! —
" By this curst arm to fall! —
" Come wretched Aife, from thy childless hall,
" And learn the woes that thy pierc'd soul await!
" Why wert thou absent in this fatal hour? —
" A mother's tender power
" Might sure have sway'd my Conloch's filial breast!
" My son, my hero then had stood confest!
But it is past! — he dies! — ah woe! —
" Come, Aife, come, and let thy sorrows flow!
" Bathe his dear wounds! — support his languid head!
" Wash, with a mother's tears, away the blood a father shed! "
" No more (the dying youth exclaim'd,)
" No more on Aife call!
" Curst be her art! — the treacherous snare she fram'd
" Has wrought thy Conloch's fall!
" Curse on the tongue that arm'd my hand
" Against a father's breast!
" That bound me to obey her dire command,
" And with a lying tale my soul possest;
" That made me think my youth no more thy care,
" And bade me of thy cruel arts beware!
" Curst be the tongue to whose deceit
" The anguish of my father's heart I owe.
" While thus, to bathe his sacred feet,
" Through this unhappy side,
" He sees the same rich crimson tide
" That fills his own heroic bosom flow!
" O yes! too surely am I thine!
" No longer I the fatal truth conceal.
" Never before did any foe
" The name of Conloch know;
" Nor would I now to thee my birth reveal,
" But safety, even from thy dear hand decline,
" Did not my ebbing blood, and short'ning breath,
" Secure thy Conloch's honor — in his death.
" But, ah Cucullin! — dauntless knight! —
" Ah! — had'st thou better mark'd the fight!
" Thy skill in arms might soon have made thee know
" That I was only half a foe!
" Thou would'st have seen, for glory though I fought,
" Defence, — not blood I sought.
" Thou would'st have seen, from that dear breast,
" Nature and love thy Conloch's arm arrest!
" Thou would'st have seen his spear instinctive stray;
" And, when occasion dar'd its force,
" Still from that form it fondly turn'd away,
" And gave to air its course. "
No answer the unhappy fire return'd,
But wildly thus, in frantic sorrow mourn'd.
" O my lov'd Conloch! beam of glory's light!
" O set not yet in night!
" Live, live my son, to aid thy father's sword!
" O live, to conquest and to fame restor'd!
" Companions of the war, my son, we'll go,
" Mow down the ranks, and chase the routed foe!
" Ourselves an host, sweep o'er the prostrate field,
" And squadrons to my hero's arm shall yield!
" Not mighty Erin's self, from wave to wave,
" Not all her chiefs could our joint prowess brave!
" Gone! — art thou gone? — O wretched eyes!
" See where my child! my murder'd Conloch lies!
" Lo! — in the dust his shield of conquest laid!
" And prostrate, now, his once victorious blade!
" O let me turn from the soul-torturing sight!
" O wretch! deserted and forlorn!
" With age's sharpest anguish torn! —
" Stript of each tender tie! each fond delight!
" Cruel father! — cruel stroke! —
" See the heart of nature broke! —
" Yes, I have murder'd thee, my lovely child!
" Red with thy blood this fatal hand I view! —
" Oh, from the sight distraction will ensue,
" And grief will turn with tearless horror wild! — —
" Reason! — whither art thou fled? —
" Art thou with my Conloch dead? —
" Is this lost wretch no more thy care?
" Not one kind ray to light my soul;
" To free it from the black controul
" Of this deep, deep despair! — —
" As the lone skiff is toss'd from wave to wave,
" No pilot's hand to save!
" Thus, thus my devious soul is borne!
" Wild with my woes, I only live to mourn!
" But all in death will shortly end,
" And sorrow to the grave its victim send!
" Yes, yes, I feel the near approach of peace,
" And misery soon will cease!
" As the ripe fruit, at shady autumn's call,
" Shakes to each blast, and trembles to its fall;
" I wait the hour that shall afford me rest,
" And lay, O earth! my sorrows in thy breast.