J. F. Campbell Collection > Transactions of the Ossianic Society > Volume 5

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So, through the night, unto grey Traghvally,
The feeble Ceann led his hosts along ;
But, faint and heart-sore, they could not rally,
So deeply Rury had wrought them wrong.
Now, when the Princess beheld advancing
Her lover's troops with their arms reversed.
In lieu of broadswords and chargers prancing,
She felt her heart's hopes were dead and hearsed.
And on her knees to her ireful father
She prayed, " Oh, father, let this pass by ;
War not against the brave Eury ! Rather
Pierce this fond bosom, and let me die !"
But Cairtre rose in volcanic fury,
And so he spake — " By the might of God,
I hold no terms with this craven Rury
Till he or I lie below the sod !
" Thou shameless child ! Thou, alike unworthy
Of him, thy father, who speaks thee thus,
And her, my Mhearb,* who in sorrow bore thee ;
Wilt thou dishonour thyself and us ?
" Behold! I march with my serried bowmen —
Four hundred thine, and a thousand mine ;
I march to crush these degraded foemen,
Who gorge the ravens ere day decline !"
Meet now both armies in mortal struggle,
The spears are shivered, the javelins fly ;
But, Avhat strange terror, what mental juggle,
Be those that speak out of Calbhach's eye ?
It is — it must be, some spell Satanic,
That masters him and his gallant host.
Woe, woe, the day ! An inglorious panic
O'erDowers the legions— and all is lost '.