Through Antrim's glens doth guide! And legends tell that the proud ladye Would fain have been unbann'd, For the chieftain who proved his chieftainry Lorded both wife and land. -----T. D. M'Gee. [Illustration: 0285] THE DEMON OF THE GIBBET |There was no west, there was no east, No star abroad for eyes to see; And Norman spurred his jaded beast Hard by the terrible gallows-tree. "O, Norman, haste across this waste,-- For something seems to follow me!" "Cheer up, dear Maud, for, thanked be God, We nigh have passed the gallows-tree!" He kissed her lip: then--spur and whip! And fast they fled across the lea! But vain the heel, and rowel steel,-- For something leaped from the gallows-tree! "Give me your cloak, your knightly cloak, That wrapped you oft beyond the sea! The wind is bold, my bones are old, And I am cold on the gallows-tree." "O holy God! O dearest Maud, Quick, quick, some prayers--the best that be! A bony hand my neck has spanned, And tears my knightly cloak from me!" "Give me your wine,--the red, red wine, That in the flask hangs by your knee! Ten summers burst on me accurst, And I'm athirst on the gallows-tree!" "O Maud, my life, my loving wife! Have you no prayer to set us free? My belt unclasps,--a demon grasps, And drags my wine-flask from my knee!" "Give me your bride, your bonnie bride, That left her nest with you to flee! O she hath flown to be my own, For I'm alone on the gallows-tree!" "Cling closer, Maud, and trust in God! Cling close!--Ah, heaven, she slips from me!" A prayer, a groan, and he alone Rode on that night from the gallows-tree. ---Fitz-James O'Brien. KILBRANNON [Illustration: 9287] |My love, braid up thy golden locks, And don thy silken shoon, We'll sit upon Kilbrannon's rocks, Where shines the silvery moon; And bring thy little babe with thee, For his dear father's sake, The lands where he'll be lord to see, By lone Kilbrannon lake." She's braided up her golden locks, She's donned her silken shoon, And they're away to Kilbrannon's rocks By the cold light of the moon; Sir Hubert he took both wife and child Upon that night of woe, And hurled them over the rocks so wild, To the lake's blue depths below. And he has married another may, With the locks of ebonie, And her looks are sweet, and her heart is gay, Yet a woeful wight is he; He wakes the woods with his bugle horn, But his heart is heavy and sore; And he ever shuns those crags forlorn By lone Kilbrannon shore. For down in the lake the dead won't rest, That vengeful murdered one; With her little babe at her pulseless breast, She walks the waters lone; And she calls at night her murderer's name, And will call for evermore, Till the huge rocks melt in doomsday flame,