Page:Irish minstrelsy, vol 2 - Hardiman.djvu/33

Rh The mid-day is dark with unnatural gloom—
 * And a spectral lament wildly shrieked in the air,

Tells all hearts that our princess lies cold in the
 * tomb—
 * Bids the old and the young bend in agony there!

Faint the lowing of kine o'er the seared yellow lawn!
 * And tuneless the warbler that droops on the spray!

The bright tenants that flashed through the current are
 * gone!
 * For the princess we honoured is laid in the clay.—

Darkly brooding alone o'er his bondage and shame,
 * By the shore, in mute agony, wander the Gael—

And sad is my spirit—and clouded my dream,
 * For my king—for the star my devotion would hail—

What woe, beyond this, hath dark fortune to wreak?
 * What wrath o'er the land yet remains to be hurled?

They turn them to Rome! but despairing they shriek,
 * For Spain's flag, in defeat, and defection is furled—