Читать книгу Authors and Writers Associated with Morristown - Julia Keese Colles - Страница 15

Slowly around the new-made grave

Gathers the mourner throng;

Women and children, chieftains brave,

Numb'ring their hundreds strong.

Glitter beneath the sun's bright ray

Helmet and axe and spear;

Sadness and sorrow reign to-day,

Dark is the land and drear!

Yesterday leading his men to fight,

Now lies he beneath their feet,

Clad in his armor, strong and bright,

'Tis his only winding sheet.

Close to his grave stand his warriors grim,

Bravest and best of his reign;

They, who through danger have oft followed him,

Mourn the wild "Scourge of the Dane."

Look! from the throng with martial stride

Steps an old chief of his clan,

Pauses and halts at the deep grave's side,

Halts as but warriors can.

White is the hair beneath his cap,

Withered the hand he holds on high;

Standing, beside the open gap,

Speaks he without a pause or sigh.

"Brian Boru the brave! Brian Boru the bold! Lay we thee in thy grave; Deep is it, dark and cold.

Bravest of ev'ry chief

Erin has ever known;

Hurling the foes in grief,

Fiercest of Danes o'erthrown.

Youth and old age alike

Found thee in war array;

Wielding the sword and pike,

E'er in the thick o' the fray!

Erin is freed and blest,

Freed by thy mighty arm;

Well hast thou earned thy rest,

Take it! secure from harm.

Friend of our hearts! Our king!

Generous, kind and true!

Out let our praises fling—

Shout we for Brian Boru."

Bursts the wild song from a thousand throats,

Sounding through wood and plain,

While the mountains echo the dying notes,

Ringing them out again.