--Aubrey de Vere. [Illustration: 0251] A BALLAD OF SARSFIELD; or, The Bursting of the Guns. |Sarsfield rode out the Dutch to rout, And to take and break their cannon; To mass went he at half-past three, And at four he cross'd the Shannon. Tirconnel slept. In dream his thoughts Old fields of victory ran on; And the chieftains of Thomond in Limerick's towers Slept well by the banks of Shannon. He rode ten miles and he cross'd the ford, And couch'd in the wood and waited; Till, left and right, on march'd in sight That host which the true men hated. "Charge!" Sarsfield cried; and the green hill- side, As they charged, replied in thunder; They rode o'er the plain and they rode o'er the slain, And the rebel, rout lay under! He burn'd the gear the knaves held dear,-- For his King he fought, not plunder; With powder he cramm'd the guns, and ramm'd Their mouths the red soil under. The spark flash'd out--like a nation's shout The sound into heaven ascended; The hosts of the sky made to earth reply, And the thunders twain were blended! Sarsfield rode out the Dutch to rout, And to take and break their cannon;-- A century after, Sarsfield's laughter Was echoed from Dungannon. ----Aubrey de Vere. A BALLAD OF ATHLONE; or, How they broke down the Bridge |Does any man dream that a Gael can fear?-- Of a thousand deeds let him learn but one! The Shannon swept onward, broad and clear, Between the leaguers and worn Athlone. "Break down the bridge!"--Six warriors rushed Through the storm of shot and the storm of shell: With late, but certain, victory flushed The grim Dutch gunners eyed them well. They wrenched at the planks 'mid a hail of fire: They fell in death, their work half done: The bridge stood fast; and nigh and nigher The foe swarmed darkly, densely on. "O who for Erin will strike a stroke? Who hurl yon planks where the waters roar?" Six warriors forth from their comrades broke, And flung them upon that bridge once more. Again at the rocking planks they dashed; And four dropped dead; and two remained: The huge beams groaned, and the arch down crashed;-- Two stalwart swimmers the margin gained. St Ruth in his stirrups stood up, and cried, "I have seen no deed like that in France!" With a toss of his head Sarsfield replied, "They had luck, the dogs!'Twas a merry chance!" O many a year upon Shannon's side, They sang upon moor and they sang upon Of the twain that breasted that raging tide, And the ten that shook bloody hands with Death! heath ----Aubrey de Vere, LOVE'S WARNING [Illustration: 0255] |A fair lady once, with her young lover walked, Gillyflower, gentle rosemary; Through a garden, and sweetly they laughed