The tidings from Drogheda and Wexford soon spread throughout the country, and the faint-hearted governors of many strong towns surrendered without attempting to make an honorable defence. Kilkenny proved an exception. There a brave stand was made, and garrison and inhabitants received favorable terms of surrender. But Cromwell’s most difficult task was in front of “rare Clonmel,” in Tipperary, which was garrisoned by a few regiments of the aboriginal Ulster Irish—among the bravest men that ever trod a battlefield or manned a breach—under the command of Major-General Hugh Duff (Black) O’Neill, nephew and pupil of the glorious Owen Roe. This brave and skilful officer repulsed, with much carnage, several of Cromwell’s fiercest assaults, and the siege would, undoubtedly, have been raised only for failure of ammunition in the Irish army. O’Neill, having satisfied himself that this was the unfortunate fact, evacuated the city on a dark midnight of May, 1649, and retreated to Limerick. Cromwell, ignorant of this movement, demanded the surrender of Clonmel next morning. Favorable terms were requested and granted. There was no massacre, and Cromwell’s sardonic nature made him rather enjoy the masterly trick played upon him by young O’Neill. Some years afterward, when the latter, after a most noble defence of Limerick, fell into the hands of Ireton and was condemned to death, we are informed that Cromwell, then virtually Lord Protector, caused his sentence to be commuted and allowed him to return to the Continent. Such is the effect true courage produces on even the most brutal natures. Owen Roe O’Neill, who, of all the Irish generals, was alone fitted, both by nature and experience, to combat the able Cromwell, died soon after that tyrant’s arrival in Ireland, as some say by poison. He was on the march to attack the English army, when he surrendered to death at Clough Oughter Castle, in Cavan, bitterly mourned by all who had dreamed of an independent Ireland. How beautifully Thomas Davis laments him: “We thought you would not die—we were sure you would not go, And leave us in our utmost need to Cromwell’s cruel blow! Sheep without a shepherd, when the snow shuts out the sky, Oh, why did you leave us, Owen, why did you die? “Soft as woman’s was your voice, O’Neill! bright was your eye, O! why did you leave us, Owen? why did you die? Your troubles are all over, you’re at rest with God on high; But we’re slaves and we’re orphans, Owen! why did you die?”