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

 Rh 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 followers$6$ 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.