Thou rivalledst Emania in Ulster, Thou wert the peer of Cruachan in Connaught, Or of the mansion over the bright Boyne, Thou Rome of all delight for Erin! In thee, thou fair, capacious dome, Where Ulster’s tributes prodigally spent, And Connaught’s tributes were poured into thee, Deserted though thou art this night! From thee have we beheld--delightful sight!-- From the high pinnacles of thy purple turrets, Long lines of ships at the approach of May, With masts and snow-white sails. From the high pinnacles of thy white watch-towers We have seen the fleetness of the youthful steeds, The bounding of the hounds, the joyous chase, Thou pleasant fastness of unnumbered plains! Within thee at the festive board We have seen the strong battalions of the Gael, And outside on thy wide green court, After the meeting and the feasting. Alas for this event, O Dun-na-Gall! Sad is the lethargy that trances thee, It is my grief to see thee thus deserted, Without thy nobles, without mirth to-night! Although thy ruins now bestrew the soil, There have come of the race of Connell Some men who would have mourned thy downfall, O, thou fair fortress of the smooth-clad nobles! Manus O’Donnell’s noble mind, Had he but heard of thy disasters, O, fortress of the regal towers, Would suffer deepest anguish for thee! Could Hugh, the son of Hugh, behold The desolation of thy once white walls, How bitter, O, thou palace of the kings, His grief would be for thy decline and fall! If thus thou couldst have been beheld By Hugh Roe, who demolished thee, Methinks his triumph and delight would cease, Thou beautiful, time-hallowed house of Fertas! O, never was it dreamed that one like him, That one sprung from the Tirconnellians, Could bring thee to this woeful state, Thou bright-streamed fortress of the embellished walls! From Hugh O’Donnell, thine own king, From him has come this melancholy blow, This demolition of thy walls and towers, O, thou forsaken fortress o’er the Easky! Yet was it not because he wished thee ill That he thus left thee void and desolate; The king of the successful tribe of Dalach Did not destroy thee out of hatred. The reason that he left thee as thou art Was lest the black ferocious strangers Should dare to dwell within thy walls, Thou fair-proportioned, speckled mansion! Lest we should ever call thee theirs, Should call thee in good earnest _Dun-na-gall_, This was the reason, Fortress of the Gaels, That thy fair turrets were o’erthrown. Now that our kings have all been exiled hence To dwell among the reptiles of strange lands, It is a woe for us to see thy towers, O, bright fort of the glossy walls!