With respect, however, to the colour of O’Donoghoe’s horse, the prevailing belief seems now to be, that it is a white one, and this notion has been adopted by our national bard, Moore, in his beautiful song called “O’Donoghoe’s Mistress,” which, as he informs us, is founded on one among other stories connected with this legend of the lakes, and in which it is said that there was a young and beautiful girl, whose imagination was so impressed with the idea of this visionary chieftain, that she fancied herself in love with him, and at last, in a fit of insanity, on a May morning, threw herself into the lake. But we had better give the song itself:-- Of all the fair months, that round the sun In light-linked dance their circles run, Sweet May, shine thou for me; For still, when thy earliest beams arise, That youth, who beneath the blue lake lies, Sweet May, returns to me. Of all the bright haunts, where daylight leaves Its lingering smile on golden eves, Fair lake, thou’rt dearest to me; For when the last April sun grows dim, Thy Naiads prepare his steed for him, Who dwells, bright lake, in thee. Of all the proud steeds that ever bore Young plumed chiefs on sea or shore, White steed, most joy to thee; Who still, with the first young glance of spring, From under that glorious lake dost bring My love, my chief, to me. While, white as the sail some bark unfurls, When newly launch’d, thy long mane curls, Fair steed, as white and free; And spirits, from all the lake’s deep bowers, Glide o’er the blue wave scattering flowers, Around my love and thee. Of all the sweet deaths that maidens die, Whose lovers beneath the cold wave lie, Most sweet that death will be, Which under the next May evening’s light, When thou and thy steed are lost to sight, Dear love, I’ll die for thee.