The tale of that feast, and its bloody farewell! IX. And now on the Saxons his clansmen advance, With a shout from each heart, and a soul in each lance. He rushed, like a storm, o'er the night-covered heath, And swept through their ranks, like the angel of death. Then hurrah! for thy glory, young chieftain, hurrah! Oh! had we such lightning-souled heroes to- day, Again would our "Sunburst" * expand in the gale, And freedom exult o'er the green Innisfail. ----J. A. Shea. * Irish national banner. [Illustration: 0215] THE BRIDAL OF MALAHIDE |The joy-bells are ringing In gay Malahide, The fresh wind is singing Along the sea-side; The maids are assembling With garlands of flowers, And the harpstrings are trembling In all the glad bowers. Swell, swell the gay measure! Roll trumpet and drum! 'Mid greetings of pleasure In splendour they come! The chancel is ready, The portal stands wide For the lord and the lady, The bridegroom and bride. What years, ere the latter, Of earthly delight The future shall scatter O'er them in its flight! What blissful caresses Shall fortune bestow, Ere those dark-flowing tresses Fall white as the snow! Before the high altar Young Maud stands array'd; With accents that falter Her promise is made-- From mother and father For ever to part, For him and no other To treasure her heart. The words are repeated, The bridal is done, The rite is completed-- The two, they are one; The vow, it is spoken All pure from the heart, That must not be broken Till life shall depart. Hark!'mid the gay clangour That compass'd their car, Loud accents in anger Come mingling afar! The foe's on the border, His weapons resound Where the lines in disorder Unguarded are found. As wakes the good shepherd, The watchful and bold, When the ounce or the leopard Is seen in the fold, So rises already The chief in his mail, While the new-married lady Looks fainting and pale. "Son, husband, and brother, Arise to the strife, For the sister and mother, For children and wife! O'er hill and o'er hollow, O'er mountain and plain, Up, true men, and follow! Let dastards remain!" Far rah! to the battle! They form into line-- The shields, how they rattle! The spears, how they shine! Soon, soon shall the foeitian His treachery rue-- On, burgher and yeoman, To die or to do! The eve is declining In lone Malahide, The maidens are twining Gay wreaths for the bride! She marks them unheeding-- Her heart is afar, Where the clansmen are bleeding For her in the war. Hark! loud from the mountain 'Tis Victory's cry! O'er woodland and fountain It rings to the sky!