Corpus of Electronic Texts Edition
Rury and Darvorgilla (Author: James Clarence Mangan)

p.56

  1. Know ye the tale of the Prince of Oriel,
    Of Rury, last of his line of kings?
    I pen it here as a sad memorial
    Of how much woe reckless folly brings.
  2. Of a time that Rury rode woodwards, clothed
    In silk and gold, on a hunting chase
    He thought like thunder1 on his betrothed,
    And with clinched hand he smote his face.
  3. 'Fareer!2 Mabhron!3 Princess Darvorgilla!
    Forgive she will not a slight like this;
    But could she, dared she, I should be still a
    Base wretch to wed her for heaven's best bliss.'
  4. 'Fareer! Fareer! Princess Darvorgilla!
    She has four hundred young bowmen bold;
    But I—I love her, and would not spill a
    Drop of their blood for ten torques4 of gold.'
  5. 'Still, woe to all who provoke to slaughter!
    I count as nought, weighed with fame like mine,
    The birth and beauty of Cairtre's daughter;
    So, judge the sword between line and line!'
  6. 'Thou, therefore, Calbhach5, go call a muster,
    And wind the bugle by fort and dun!

    p.57

    When stains shall tarnish our house's lustre,
    Then sets in darkness the noonday sun!'
  7. But Calbhach answered—'Light need to do so!
    Behold the noblest of heroes here!
    What foe confronts us, I reck not whoso,
    Shall flee before us like hunted deer!'
  8. Spake Rury then—'Calbhach, as thou willest!
    But see, old man, there be brief delay—
    For this chill parle is of all things chillest,
    And my fleet courser must now away!'
  9. 'Yet though thou march with thy legions townwards,
    Well armed for ambush or treacherous fray,
    Still see they point their bare weapons downwards,
    As those of warriors averse to slay!'
  10. Now, when the clansmen were armed and mounted,
    The aged Calbhach gave way to fears;
    For, foot and horsemen, they barely counted
    A hundred cross-bows and forty spears.
  11. And thus exclaimed he—'My soul is shaken!
    We die the death, not of men, but slaves;
    We sleep the sleep from which none awaken,
    And scorn shall point at our tombless graves!'
  12. Then out spake Fergal—'A charge so weighty
    As this, O Rury, thou shouldst not throw
    On a drivelling dotard of eight-and-eighty,
    Whose arm is nerveless for spear or bow!'
  13. But Rury answered—'Away! To-morrow
    Myself will stand in Traghvally6 town;
    But, come what may come, this day I borrow
    To hunt through Glafna the brown deer down!'

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  14. So, through the night, unto grey Traghvally,
    The feeble Ceann led his hosts along;
    But faint and heart-sore, they could not rally,
    So deeply Rury had wrought them wrong.
  15. Now, when the Princess beheld advancing
    Her lover's troops with their arms reversed
    In lieu of broadswords and chargers prancing,
    She felt her heart's hopes were dead and hearsed.
  16. And on her knees to her ireful father
    She prayed—'O father, let this pass by;
    War not against the brave Rury! Rather
    Pierce this fond bosom and let me die!'
  17. But Cairtre rose in volcanic fury,
    And so he spake—'By the might of God,
    I hold no terms with this craven Rury
    Till he or I lie below the sod!'
  18. 'Thou shameless child! Thou, alike unworthy
    Of him, thy father, who speaks thee thus,
    And her, my Mhearb7, who in sorrow bore thee,
    Wilt thou dishonour thyself and us?'
  19. 'Behold! I march with my serried bowmen—
    Four hundred thine and a thousand mine;
    I march to crush these degraded foemen,
    Who gorge the ravens ere day decline!'
  20. Meet now both armies in mortal struggle,
    The spears are shivered, the javelins fly;
    But what strange terror, what mental juggle,
    Be those that speak out of Calbhach's eye?

    21. p.59

  21. It is—it must be, some spell Satanic,
    That masters him and his gallant host.
    Woe, woe the day! An inglorious panic
    O'erpowers the legions—and all is lost!
  22. Woe, woe that day, and that hour of carnage!
    Too well they witness to Fergal's truth!
    Too well in bloodiest appeal they warn Age
    Not lightly thus to match swords with Youth!
  23. When Rury reached, in the red of morning,
    The battle-ground, it was he who felt
    The dreadful weight of this ghastly warning,
    And what a blow had o'ernight been dealt!
  24. So, glancing round him, and sadly groaning,
    He pierced his breast with his noble blade;
    Thus all too mournfully mis-atoning
    For that black ruin his word had made.
  25. But hear ye further! When Cairtre's daughter
    Saw what a fate had o'erta'en her Brave,
    Her eyes became as twin founts of water,
    Her heart again as a darker grave.
  26. Clasp now thy lover, unhappy maiden!
    But, see! thy sire tears thine arms away,
    And in a dungeon, all anguish laden,
    Shalt thou be cast ere the shut of day.
  27. But what shall be in the sad years coming
    Thy doom? I know not, but guess too well
    That sunlight never shall trace thee roaming
    Ayond the gloom of thy sunken cell!

    28. p.60

  28. This is the tale of the Prince of Oriel
    And Darvorgilla, both sprung of Kings!
    I trace it here as a dark memorial
    Of how much woe thoughtless folly brings.