| |
| PRINCE CORMAC sheathed his sharpest sword | |
| In the breast of his brother’s son; | |
| And his nobles hailed him as Riagh and Lord, | |
| When the treacherous deed was done; | |
| And they bore him in triumph to his palace, near | 5 |
| Where Bann’s deep waters wind,— | |
| O Ulster! didst thou see and hear, | |
| Or wert thou deaf and blind? | |
| |
| And Cormac sate at the feast that night, | |
| In Antrim’s royal hall, | 10 |
| With his vassal Tiornachs and men of might, | |
| And iron chieftains all; | |
| “And where is the kingly diadem,” he cried, | |
| “Ye have destined for this head?” | |
| When the oaken door swung suddenly wide, | 15 |
| And lo! a sight of dread! | |
| |
| A bier with coffin and sable pall, | |
| And bearers in mournful attire, | |
| Moved slowly up the spacious hall, | |
| While hushed was laugh and lyre! | 20 |
| And the murderer shook in his royal chair, | |
| While he tried to grasp his spear; | |
| But the curse of crime had stricken him there, | |
| And he looked a statue of fear! | |
| |
| And the bearers lifted the coffin lid, | 25 |
| And a corpse, with a gory wound | |
| In its naked breast, stood up amid | |
| The death-pale revellers round; | |
| And a crown of blood-cemented clay | |
| In its hands it seemed to bear, | 30 |
| And it spake,—“O King, enjoy thy sway! | |
| This diadem shalt thou wear!” | |
| |
| A silence deeper than the grave’s | |
| Now thrills the throng with dread; | |
| And the broken murmurs of Banna’s waves | 35 |
| Seem voices of the dead! | |
| It was far in the wane of the emerald spring, | |
| And a bright May morning poured | |
| Its rays through the hall, but the Irish king | |
| Sate dead at his banquet board! | 40 |
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