Corpus of Electronic Texts Edition

A Lullaby (Author: James Clarence Mangan)

p.75

1. O, hushaby, baby! why weepest thou?
   The diadem yet shall adorn thy brow,
   And the jewels thy sires had, long agone,
   In the regal ages of Eoghan and Conn,
   Shall all be thine.
   O, hushaby, hushaby, child of mine!
   My sorrow, my woe, to see thy tears,
   Pierce into my heart like spears.
2. I'll give thee that glorious apple of gold
   The three fair goddesses sought of old,
   I'll give thee the diamond sceptre of Pan,
   And the rod with which Moses, that holiest man,
   Wrought marvels divine;
   O, hushaby, hushaby, child of mine!

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p.76

3. I'll give thee that courser, fleet on the plains,
   That courser with golden saddle and reins,
   Which Falvey rode, the mariner-lord,
   When the blood of the Danes, at Cashel-na-Nord,
   Flowed like to dark wine;
   O, hushaby, hushaby, child of mine!
4. I'll give thee the dazzling sword was worn
   By Brian on Cluan-tarava's² morn,
   And the bow of Murrough, whose shaft shot gleams
   That lightened as when the arrowy beams
   Of the noon-sun shine;
   O, hushaby, hushaby, child of mine!
5. And the hound that was wont to speed amain
   From Cashel's rock to Bunratty's plain,
   And the eagle from gloomy Aherlow,
   And the hawk of Skellig; all these I bestow
   On thee and thy line;
   O, hushaby, hushaby, child of mine!
6. And the golden fleece that Jason bore
   To Hellas' hero-peopled shore,
   And the steel that Cuchullin bought of yore,
   With cloak, and necklet, and golden store,
   And meadows and kine;
   O, hushaby, hushaby, child of mine!
7. And Conal's unpierceable shirt of mail,
   And the shield of Nish, the prince of the Gael,
   These twain for thee, my babe, shall I win,
   With the flashing spears of Achilles and Finn,
   Each high as a pine;
   O, hushaby, hushaby, child of mine!

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p.77

8. And the swords of Diarmid and fierce Fingal,
   The slayers on heath and (alas!) in hall;
   And the charmèd helmet that Oscar wore
   When he left MacTreoin to welter in gore,
   Subdued and supine;
   O, hushaby, hushaby, child of mine!
9. And the jewel wherewith Queen Eofa proved
   The value and faith of the hero she loved;
   The magic jewel that nerved his arm
   To work his enemies deadly harm
   On plain and on brine;
   O, hushaby, hushaby, child of mine!
10. And the wondrous cloak renowned in song
    The enchanted cloak of the dark Dubhlong,
    By whose powerful aid he battled mid
    The thick of his foes, unseen and hid,
    This, too, shall be thine;
    O, hushaby, hushaby, child of mine!
11. The last, not least, of thy weapons, my son,
    Shall be the glittering glaive of O'Dunn,
    The gift from Aenghus' powerful hands,
    The hewer-down of the Fenian bands,
    With edge so fine!
    O, hushaby, hushaby, child of mine!
12. Even Hebe, who fills the nectar up
    For Love, in his luminous crystal cup,
    Shall pour thee out a wine in thy dreams,
    As bright as thy poet-father's themes
    When inspired by the wine;
    O, hushaby, hushaby, child of mine!

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p.78

13. And silken robes, and sweet, soft cates
    Shalt thou wear, and eat beyond thy mates—
    Ah, see, here comes thy mother Moirin!
    She, too, has the soul of an Irish queen:
    She scorns to repine!
    Then, hushaby, hushaby, child of mine!
    My sorrow, my woe, to see thy tears,
    Pierce into my heart like spears.