'Tis thus the ancient Ollaves of Erin tell How, through lewdness and revenge, it befell That the sons of William Conquer Came over the sons of Wattin, Throughout all the bounds and borders Of the lands of Auley Mac Fiachra; Till the Saxon Oliver Cromwell, And his valiant, Bible-guided, Free heretics of Clan London Coming in, in their succession, Rooted out both Burke and Barrett, And in their empty places New stems of freedom planted, With many a goodly sapling Of manliness and virtue; Which while their children cherish, Kindly Irish of the Irish, Neither Saxons nor Italians, May the mighty God of Freedom Speed them well, Never taking Further vengeance on his people of Tirawley. _Sir Samuel Ferguson_ AIDEEN'S GRAVE They heaved the stone; they heap'd the cairn. Said Ossian, 'In a queenly grave We leave her, 'mong her fields of fern, Between the cliff and wave. 'The cliff behind stands clear and bare, And bare, above, the heathery steep Scales the clear heaven's expanse, to where The Danaan Druids sleep. 'And all the sands that, left and right, The grassy isthmus-ridge confine, In yellow bars lie bare and bright Among the sparkling brine. 'A clear pure air pervades the scene, In loneliness and awe secure; Meet spot to sepulchre a Queen Who in her life was pure. 'Here, far from camp and chase removed, Apart in Nature's quiet room, The music that alive she loved Shall cheer her in the tomb. 'The humming of the noontide bees, The lark's loud carol all day long, And, borne on evening's salted breeze, The clanking sea-bird's song, 'Shall round her airy chamber float, And with the whispering winds and streams, Attune to Nature's tenderest note The tenor of her dreams. 'And oft, at tranquil eve's decline, When full tides lip the Old Green Plain, The lowing of Moynalty's kine Shall round her breathe again. 'In sweet remembrance of the days When, duteous, in the lowly vale, Unconscious of my Oscar's gaze, She fill'd the fragrant pail, 'And, duteous, from the running brook Drew water for the bath; nor deem'd A king did on her labour look, And she a fairy seem'd. 'But when the wintry frosts begin, And in their long-drawn, lofty flight, The wild geese with their airy din Distend the ear of night, 'And when the fierce De Danaan ghosts At midnight from their peak come down, When all around the enchanted coasts Despairing strangers drown; 'When, mingling with the wreckful wail, From low Clontarf's wave-trampled floor Comes booming up the burthen'd gale The angry Sand-Bull's roar;