If on the Day of Hostages The fruit had from the parent bough Been rudely torn In sight of Munster’s bands--Mac-Nee’s Such blow the blood of Conn, I trow, Could ill have borne. If on the day of Ballach-boy Some arm had laid, by foul surprise, The chieftain low, Even our victorious shout of joy Would soon give place to rueful cries And groans of woe! If on the day the Saxon host Were forced to fly--a day so great For Ashanee[5]-- The Chief had been untimely lost, Our conquering troops should moderate Their mirthful glee. There would not lack on Lifford’s day, From Galway, from the glens of Boyle, From Limerick’s towers, A marshalled file, a long array. Of mourners to bedew the soil With tears in showers! If on the day a sterner fate Compelled his flight from Athenree, His blood had flowed, What numbers all disconsolate Would come unasked, and share with thee Affliction’s load! If Derry’s crimson field had seen His life-blood offered up, though ’twere On Victory’s shrine, A thousand cries would swell the _keen_, A thousand voices of despair Would echo thine! O, had the fierce Dalcassian swarm That bloody night on Fergus’ banks, But slain our Chief, When rose his camp in wild alarm-- How would the triumph of his ranks Be dashed with grief! How would the troops of Murbach mourn If on the Curlew Mountains’ day, Which England rued, Some Saxon hand had left them lorn, By shedding there, amid the fray, Their prince’s blood! Red would have been our warriors’ eyes Had Roderick found on Sligo’s field A gory grave, No Northern Chief would soon arise So sage to guide, so strong to shield, So swift to save. Long would Leith-Cuinn have wept, if Hugh Had met the death he oft had dealt Among the foe; But, had our Roderick fallen too, All Erin must, alas! have felt The deadly blow! What do I say? Ah, woe is me! Already we bewail in vain Their fatal fall: And Erin, once the Great and Free, Now vainly mourns her breakless chain, And iron thrall! Then, daughter of O’Donnell! dry Thine overflowing eyes, and turn Thy heart aside! For Adam’s race is born to die, And sternly the sepulchral urn Mocks human pride!