Two Champions of Christendom

O'er the fair sea they set sail,
Two tried chiefs from Innis Gael,
Free of will they left the shore —
We shall see them never more.

Why did our comrades leave us,
That wistful woe should grieve us?
Each went, with hero's ardour,
To serve as Europe's warder!

Forth they fared across the foam
For the fame of Christendom;
They in high emprise succeed
By true worth and dauntless deed.

Their names shine clear in story,
Shore and sea speak their glory:
Nothing dimmed their valour's glow
Till an ill fate laid them low.

Conall Cearnach, no, nor Cu
Greater courage never knew;
Nor fair Oscar, first in war,
Braver was than Concobar.

Oliver hath noble name,
Fortibras is fair of fame;
Yet, 'mid surge and spray of spears,
These our princes were their peers.

Conall Gulban, great of yore,
Waged the war from shore to shore —
Though he urged the forays far,
Farther still came Concobar.

Nor doth very Hector, he —
Nor Achilles, in degree,
Though aloft each shone a star,
Beat the blade from Concobar.

They have sent, hand over hand,
The renown through ev'ry land
Of their high heroic deeds,
Faring far where honour leads.

Well the Saxes know the name —
Well the Franks the flying fame
Of the bare-armed heroes' might,
Of their far-resounding fight.

Nobles speak their praise in Spain,
And the Emp'ror in Almaine,
Fair the feats on honour's roll,
Of the heir of Edirskeol.

The champion chiefs of Flanders
Lament the dead Commanders,
Alba, Erinn, both deplore
The brave men who come no more.

But th' exulting Turks take breath,
They have rest with Corneil's death;
They fear not now his warning, —
He sleepeth sound till Morning.

How dark the clouds of heaven,
By flash of red fires riven,

"They bared the arm for battle, disdaining the encum-
brance of armour.

No boughs bend I above the dell
Since the two famed heroes fell.

The shores and sea are wailing,
The moon and stars are paling,
And loud the cascade's calling, —
Because the knights have fallen.

The earth and air, all over,
The angel birds that hover,
Each mournful night and morrow
Lament with lovers' sorrow.

There's no country, clan, nor home,
There's no heart in Christendom,
But shall feel as fell two stars
In the fate-killed Concobars.