A great number of his productions are still in existence; but none of them have obtained a popularity so widely extended as the poem before us. Of the palace of Kincora, which was situated on the banks of the Shannon, near Killaloe, there are at present no vestiges. LAMENTATION OF MAC LIAG FOR KINCORA. A Chinn-copath carthi Brian? Oh, where, Kincora! is Brian the Great? And where is the beauty that once was thine? Oh, where are the princes and nobles that sate At the feast in thy halls, and drank the red wine? Where, oh, Kincora? Oh, where, Kincora! are thy valorous lords? Oh, whither, thou Hospitable! are they gone? Oh, where are the Dalcassians of the Golden Swords?[1] And where are the warriors that Brian led on? Where, oh, Kincora? And where is Morogh, the descendant of kings-- The defeater of a hundred--the daringly brave-- Who set but slight store by jewels and rings-- Who swam down the torrent and laughed at its wave? Where, oh, Kincora? And where is Donogh, King Brian’s worthy son? And where is Conaing, the Beautiful Chief? And Kian, and Corc? Alas! they are gone-- They have left me this night alone with my grief! Left me, Kincora! And where are the chiefs with whom Brian went forth, The never-vanquished son of Evin the Brave, The great King of Onaght, renowned for his worth, And the hosts of Baskinn, from the western wave? Where, oh, Kincora? Oh, where is Duvlann of the Swiftfooted Steeds? And where is Kian, who was son of Molloy? And where is King Lonergan, the fame of whose deeds In the red battle-field no time can destroy? Where, oh, Kincora? And where is that youth of majestic height, The faith-keeping Prince of the Scots?--Even he, As wide as his fame was, as great as was his might, Was tributary, oh, Kincora, to me! Me, oh, Kincora! They are gone, those heroes of royal birth, Who plundered no churches, and broke no trust, ’Tis weary for me to be living on the earth When they, oh, Kincora, lie low in the dust! Low, oh, Kincora! Oh, never again will Princes appear, To rival the Dalcassians of the Cleaving Swords! I can never dream of meeting afar or anear, In the east or the west, such heroes and lords! Never, Kincora! Oh, dear are the images my memory calls up Of Brian Boru!--how he never would miss To give me at the banquet the first bright cup! Ah! why did he heap on me honour like this? Why, oh, Kincora?