The foe has retreated! He flies to the shore; The spoiler's defeated-- The combat is o'er! With foreheads unruffled The conquerors come-- But why have they muffled The lance and the drum? What form do they carry Aloft on his shield? And where does he tarry, The lord of the field? Ye saw him at morning How gallant and gay! In bridal adorning, The star of the day: Now weep for the lover-- His triumph is sped, His hope it is over! The chieftain is dead! But O for the maiden Who mourns for that chief, With heart overladen And rending with grief! She sinks on the meadow In one morning-tide, A wife and a widow, A maid and a bride! Ye maidens attending, Forbear to condole! Your comfort is rending The depths of her soul. True--true,'twas a story For ages of pride; He died in his glory-- But, oh, he _has_ died! The war-cloak she raises All mournfully now, And steadfastly gazes Upon the cold brow. That glance may for ever Unalter'd remain, But the bridegroom will never Return it again! The dead-bells are tolling In sad Malahide, The death-wail is rolling Along the sea-side; The crowds, heavy-hearted, Withdraw from the green, For the sun has departed That brighten'd the scene! Even yet in that valley, Though years have roll'd by, When through the wild sally The sea-breezes sigh, The peasant, with sorrow, Beholds in the shade The tomb where the morrow Saw Hussy convey'd. How scant was the warning, How briefly reveal'd, Before on that morning Death's chalice was fill'd! The hero who drunk it There moulders in gloom, And the form of Maud Plunket Weeps over his tomb. The stranger who wanders Along the lone vale Still sighs while he ponders On that heavy tale: "Thus passes each pleasure That earth can supply-- Thus joy has its measure-- We live but to die!" ----Gerald Griffin. CAOCH, THE PIPER |One winter's day long, long ago, When I was a little fellow, A piper wandered to our door, Gray-headed, blind, and yellow. And O how glad was my young heart, Though earth and sky looked dreary, To see the stranger and his dog, Poor Pinch and Caoch O'Leary! And when he stowed away his bag Crossbarred with green and yellow, I thought and said, "In Ireland's ground, There's not so fine a fellow." And Fineen Burke and Shane Magee, And Eily, Kate, and Mary, Rushed in with panting haste to see And welcome Caoch O'Leary. O, God be with those happy times, O, God be with my childhood, When I, bare-headed, roamed all day Bird-nesting in the wild wood! I'll not forget those sunny hours However years may vary; I'll not forget my early friends, Nor honest Caoch O'Leary.