A Vision of Connaught in the Thirteenth Century

I WALKED entranced
Through a land of Morn;
The sun, with wondrous excess of light,
Shone down and glanced

Over seas of corn

And lustrous gardens a left and right.

Even iii the clime

Of resplendent Spain,
Beams no such sun upon such a land;
But it was the time,

'Twas in the reign,
Of Cahal M6r of the Wine-red Hand.

Anon stood nigh

By my side a man
Of princely aspect and port sublime.
Him queried I,

"O, my Lord and Khan,
What clime is this, and what golden time ?r
When he— "The clime
Is a clime to praise,

The clime is Erin's, the green and bland;
And it is the time,

These be the days,
Of Cahal M6r of the Wine-red Hand 1"

Then saw I thrones,
And circling fires,

And a Dome rose near me, as by a spell,
Whence flowed the tones

Of silver lyres,

And many voices in wreathed swell;
And their thrilling chime

Fell on mine ears

As the heavenly hymn of an angel-band —
"It is now the time,
These be the years,
Of Cahal M6r of the Wine-red Hand!"

I sought the hall,

And, behold!... a change
From light to darkness, from joy to woe!
King, nobles, all,

Looked aghast and strange;
The minstrel-group sate in dumbest show!
Had some great crime

Wrought this dread amaze,
This terror? None seemed to understand!
'Twas then the time,

We were in the days,
Of Cahal M6r of the Wine-red Hand.

I again walked forth;

But lo! the sky

Showed fleckt with blood, and an alien sun
Glared from the north,

And there stood on high,
Amid his shorn beams, A SKELETON!
It was by the stream

Of the castled Maine,
One Autumn eve, in the Teuton's land,
That I dreamed this dream

Of the time and reign
Of Cahal M6r of the Wine-red Hand!