  They heaved the stone; they heap'd the cairn. Said Ossian, 'In a queenly grave We leave her, 'mong her fields of fern, Between the cliff and wave. 'The cliff behind stands clear and bare, And bare, above, the heathery steep Scales the clear heaven's expanse, to where The Danaan Druids sleep. 'And all the sands that, left and right, The grassy isthmus-ridge confine, In yellow bars lie bare and bright Among the sparkling brine. 'A clear pure air pervades the scene, Meet spot to sepulchre a Queen Who in her life was pure. 'Here, far from camp and chase removed, Apart in Nature's quiet room, The music that alive she loved Shall cheer her in the tomb. 'The humming of the noontide bees, The lark's loud carol all day long, And, borne on evening's salted breeze, The clanking sea-bird's song, 'Shall round her airy chamber float, And with the whispering winds and streams, Attune to Nature's tenderest note The tenor of her dreams. 'And oft, at tranquil eve's decline, When full tides lip the Old Green Plain, The lowing of Moynalty's kine Shall round her breathe again. 'In sweet remembrance of the days When, duteous, in the lowly vale, Unconscious of my Oscar's gaze, She fill'd the fragrant pail, Drew water for the bath; nor deem'd A king did on her labour look, And she a fairy seem'd. 'But when the wintry frosts begin, And in their long-drawn, lofty flight, The wild geese with their airy din Distend the ear of night, 'And when the fierce De Danaan ghosts At midnight from their peak come down, When all around the enchanted coasts Despairing strangers drown; 'When, mingling with the wreckful wail, From low Clontarf's wave-trampled floor Comes booming up the burthen'd gale The angry Sand-Bull's roar; 'Or, angrier than the sea, the shout Of Erin's hosts in wrath combined, When Terror heads Oppression's rout, And Freedom cheers behind:— 'Then o'er our lady's placid dream, Such joy as will not misbeseem A Queen of men to feel: 'Such thrill of free, defiant pride, As rapt her in her battle-car At Gavra, when by Oscar's side She rode the ridge of war, 'Exulting, down the shouting troops, And through the thick confronting kings, With hands on all their javelin loops And shafts on all their strings; 'E'er closed the inseparable crowds, No more to part for me, and show, As bursts the sun through scattering clouds, My Oscar issuing so. 'No more, dispelling battle's gloom, Shall son for me from fight return; The great green rath's ten-acred tomb Lies heavy on his urn. 'A cup of bodkin-pencill'd clay Holds Oscar; mighty heart and limb One handful now of ashes grey: And she has died for him. On lone Ben Edar's side, we strive With lifted rock and sign of power To keep her name alive. 'That while from circling year to year, Her Ogham-letter'd stone is seen, The Gael shall say, "Our Fenians here Entombed their loved Aideen." 'The Ogham from her pillar-stone In tract of time will wear away; Her name at last be only known In Ossian's echo'd lay. 'The long-forgotten lay I sing May only ages hence revive, (As eagle with a wounded wing To soar again might strive,) 'Imperfect, in an alien speech, When, wandering here, some child of chance Through pangs of keen delight shall reach The gift of utterance,— 'To speak the air, the sky to speak, Who, roaming bare Ben Edar's peak And Aideen's briary dell, 'And gazing on the Cromlech vast, And on the mountain and the sea, Shall catch communion with the past And mix himself with me. 'Child of the Future's doubtful night, Whate'er your speech, whoe'er your sires, Sing while you may with frank delight The song your hour inspires. 'Sing while you may, nor grieve to know The song you sing shall also die; Atharna's lay has perish'd so, Though once it thrill'd this sky, 'Above us, from his rocky chair, There, where Ben Edar's landward crest O'er eastern Bregia bends, to where Dun Almon crowns the west: 'And all that felt the fretted air Throughout the song-distempered clime, Did droop, till suppliant Leinster's prayer Appeased the vengeful rhyme. Sir Samuel Ferguson |
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