Between the cliff and wave." The cliff behind stands clear and bare, And bare, above, the heathery steep Scales the clear heaven's expanse, to where The Danaan Druids sleep. And all the sands that, left and right, The grassy isthmus-ridge confine, In yellow bars lie bare and bright Among the sparkling brine. A clear pure air pervades the scene, In loneliness and awe secure, Meet spot to sepulchre a Queen, Who in her life was pure. Here far from camp and chase removed, Apart in Nature's quiet room, The music that alive she loved Shall cheer her in the tomb. The humming of the noontide bees, The lark's loud carol all day long, And, borne on evening's salted breeze, The clanking sea-birds' song Shall round her airy chamber float, And with the whispering winds and streams, Attune to Nature's tenderest note The tenor of her dreams. And oft at tranquil eve's decline, When full tides lap the Old Green Plain, The lowing Moynalty's kine Shall round her breathe again. In sweet remembrance of the days When, duteous in the lowly vale, Unconscious of my Oscar's gaze, She filled the fragrant pail. And, duteous, from the running brook, Drew water for the bath; nor deem'd A king did on her labor look, And she a fairy seemed. But when the wintry frosts begin, And in their long-drawn, lofty flight The wild geese with their airy din. Distend the ear of night. And when the fierce De Danaan ghosts, At midnight from their peak come down. When all around the enchanted coasts Despairing strangers drown; When mingling with the wreckful wail From low Clontarf's wave-trampled floor, Comes booming up the burthened gale The angry Sand Bull's roar; Or, angrier than the sea, the shout Of Erin's hosts in wrath combined When Terror heads Oppression's rout And Freedom cheers behind:-- Then o'er our lady's placid dream, When safe from storms she sleeps, may steal Such joy as may not misbeseem A queen of men to feel. Such thrill of free, defiant pride, As rapt her in her battle car At Gavra, when by Oscar's side She rode the ridge of war. Exulting, down the shouting troops, And through the thick confronting kings, With hands on all their javelin loops And shafts on all their strings; E'er closed the inseparable crowds No more to part for me, and show, As bursts the sun through scattering clouds My Oscar issuing so. No more, dispelling battle's gloom, Shall son to me from fight return;