The Vision of Conor O'Sullivan

LAST night, amid dreams without number,
I beheld a bright vision in slumber:
A maiden with rose-red and lily-white features,
Disrobed of all earthly cumber.

Her hair o'er her shoulder was flowing
In clusters all golden and glowing,
Luxuriant and thick as in meads are the grass-blades
That the scythe of the mower is mowing.

"With her brilliant eyes, glancing so keenly,
Her lips, smiling sweet and serenely,
Her pearly-white teeth and her high-arched eyebrows,
She looked most commanding and queenly.

Her long taper fingers might dally
With the harp in some grove or green alley;
And her ivory neck and her beautiful bosom
Were white as the snows of the valley.

Bowing down, now, before her so lowly,
With words that came trembling and slowly,
I asked what her name was, and where I might worship
At the shrine of a being so holy!

"This nation is thy land and my laud,"
She answered me with a sad smile, and
The sweetest of tones — " I, alas! am the spouse of
The long-banished chiefs of our island!"

"Ah! dimmed is that island's fair glory,
And through sorrow her children grow hoary;
Yet, seat thee beside me, O Nurse of the Heroes,
And tell me thy tragical story!"

"The Druids and Sages unfold ft —
The Prophets and Saints have foretold it,
That the Stuart would come o'er the sea with his legions,
And that all Eire's tribes should behold it!

"Away, then, with sighing and mourning,
The hearts in men's bosoms are burning
To free this green land — oh! be sure you will soon see
The days of her greatness returning!

"Up, heroes, ye valiant and peerless!
Up, raise the loud war-shout so fearless!
While bonfires shall blaze, and the bagpipe and trumpet
Make joyous a land now so cheerless!

"For the troops of King Louis shall aid us; —
The chains that now gall and degrade us
Shall crumble to dust, and our bright swords shall slaughter
The wretches whose wiles have betrayed us!"