A King's Lesson

Great the teaching of a King,
He prosperity may bring,
May the land with order grace,
Raise his country or abase.

Know whose pow'r is o'er thy head,
Follow Him, with faithful tread;
In thy heart still let Him be
From whom thou hast royalty.

Mind thou this, o'er everything:
Love and honour the High King;
Faithful fear of God gave force
To all wisdom, and its source.

Run not on a wanton will,
Chief of Thomond, heedful still:
Be the people's cause thy care —
Not an idler's task is there!

Let no banquet, drink, or game,
Maids, nor music thee inflame;
Make the ill-deed manifest
Spite of potent chief's protest.

Not for love, nor fear, nor hate,
Give thou, Judge deliberate,
Wrongful sentence; calmly cold,
Silver sways it not, nor gold.

Then crowds shall come to sue thee,
Bring all their quarrels to thee;
Nor from thee fear any wrong,
Full of wisdom, skilled and strong.

Let thy fort be full of men,
Few should of thy secrets ken;
Many courtiers gleam and flit
Who for secrets are unfit.

Let thy rule not swerve away
From one noble 'neath thy sway:
This is Erinn's right and root,
This her first law absolute.

Should thy friends impose, be thou,
Till they're humble, stern of brow:
Should for peace thy foemen sue
Feuds forget in friendship true.

Fierce shall be thy countenance
When thy hosts to war advance;

Bright at banquet, when thou'lt share
To each guest due honour there.

Haughty be with men of blood,
Mild with learning's lettered brood;
Be thy young face grave, thy speech
Kind and courteous still to each.

High in deed, be low in pride,
Staunch in rush of terror's tide;
Manful keep thy soul, my son,
Till the battle's lost or won.

Claim thy homage, none omit,
Place in power no man unfit;
When loose men in office stand,
King, contempt will stir the land.

Never threaten, in thy wrath,
War if no true cause it hath:
Nor abandon right for peace,
Or thou'lt dwindle and decrease.

Curb thy will, nor come perforce;
Bear at times to thwart its course:
That the land draw to thy will
Patience show in anger still.

Surest word the word that's slow. —
Lower the lofty, lift the low,
Quell the mob, make peace to sing —
Such the true signs of a king!

Son, for thee no song I raise,
Though thou be designed for praise;
I for thee stand silent still
Till our teaching thou fulfil.

Then the sun of day, the sky,
Earth and water, birds on high,
Every element shall sing
To the praises of the king!

On the boughs shall swarm the bees,
Salmon leap from shining seas,
All the fair tribes of the flood
Praise with me the chieftain good.

Then the warriors, and the bard,
Then the king shall praise award,
They shall laud thy high estate,
Nor deem any king so great!