Poem by Aubrey Thomas De Vere

The Legends

THEY fought ere sunrise at Tor Conainn;
  All day they fought on the wild sea-shore.
The sun dropped downward, they fought amain;
  The tide rose upward, they fought the more.
The sands were covered; the sea grew red;
  The warriors fought in the reddening wave:
That night the sea was the sea-king’s bed;
  The land-king drifted past cliff and cave.

Great was the rage in those ancient days
  (We were pagans then) in the land of Eire;
Like eagles men vanquished the noontide blaze;
  Their bones were iron, their nerves were wire.
We are hinds to-day! The Nemedian kings
  Like elk and bison of old stalked forth;
Their name—the sea-kings’—forever clings
  To the “Giant Stepping-Stones” round the North.

1. Kinsale
2. To a Flower on the Skirts of Mont Blanc
3. A Ballad of Athlone; Or, How They Broke down the Bridge
4. Roisin Dubh; Or, the Bleeding Heart
5. Composed at Rydal, September, 1860

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