A description of Kincora would hardly be complete without giving MacLiag's Lament for it, translated by Clarence Mongan. MacLiag was chief poet and secretary to Brian Boramha. The poem is little known even in Ireland; to the English reader it will be absolutely new. The writer gives two prime reasons for reproducing it; one, because it is such a very fine poem; and the other, because it has heretofore never been correctly given. MACLIAG'S LAMENT FOR KINCORA. "Where, oh Kincora, is Brian the Great? And where is the beauty that once was thine? Oh where are the princes and nobles that sate At the feasts in thy halls and drank the red wine, Where, oh Kincora? "Where, oh Kincora, are thy valorous lords, Oh whither, thou Hospitable, are they gone? Oh where the Dalcassians of cleaving swords, And where are the heroes that Brian led on, Where, oh Kincora? "And where is Morough, descendant of kings, Defeater of hundreds, the daringly brave, Who set but light store on jewels and rings, Who swam down the torrent and laughed at the wave, Where, oh Kincora? "And where is Donagh, King Brian's brave son, And where is Conaing, the beautiful chief, And Cian and Corc? alas, they are gone! They have left me this night all alone in my grief, Alone, oh Kincora! "And where are the chiefs with whom Brian went forth, The ne'er vanquished sons of Evin the Brave, The great King of Eogh'nacht,[12] renowned for his worth, And Baskin's great host from the western wave, Where, oh Kincora? "And where is Duvlann of the swift-footed steeds, And where is Cian who was son of Molloy, And where is King Lonergan, the fame of whose deeds In the red battle-field, no time can destroy? Where, oh Kincora? "And where is the youth of majestic height, The faith-keeping prince of the Scotts?[13] even he, As wide as his fame was, as great as his might, Was tributary, oh Kincora, to thee, To thee, oh Kincora! "They are gone, those heroes of royal birth, Who plundered no churches and broke no trust 'Tis weary for me to be living on earth When they, oh Kincora, lie low in the dust. Low, oh Kincora! "Oh never again will princes appear To rival Dalcassians of cleaving swords! I can ne'er dream of meeting afar or near, In the east or the west, such heroes and lords, Never, Kincora! "Oh dear are the images mem'ry calls up Of Brian Boru,[14] how he never would miss To give me at banquet the first bright cup,-- Oh, why did he heap on me honour like this, Why, oh Kincora?