THE DAUGHTER OF MEATH.
BY THOMAS HAYNES BAYLEY.
Turgesius, the chief of a turbulent band,
Came over from Norway and conquer'd the land:
Rebellion had smooth'd the invader's career,
The natives shrank from him, in hate, or in fear;
While Erin's proud spirit seem'd slumb'ring in peace,
In secret it panted for death—or release.
The tumult of battle was hush'd for awhile,—
Turgesius was monarch of Erin's fair isle,
The sword of the conqueror slept in its sheath,
His triumphs were honour'd with trophy and wreath;
The princes of Erin despair'd of relief,
And knelt to the lawless Norwegian chief.
His heart knew the charm of a woman's sweet smile;
But ne'er, till he came to this beautiful isle,
Did he know with what mild, yet resistless control,
That sweet smile can conquer a conqueror's soul:
And oh! 'mid the sweet smiles most sure to enthral,
He soon met with one—he thought sweetest of all.
The brave Prince of Meath had a daughter as fair
As the pearls of Loch Neagh which encircled her hair;
The tyrant beheld her, and cried, "She shall come
To reign as the queen of my gay mountain home;
Ere sunset to-morrow hath crimson'd the sea,
Melachlin, send forth thy young daughter to me!"
Awhile paused the Prince—too indignant to speak,
There burn'd a reply in his glance—on his cheek:
But quickly that hurried expression was gone,
And calm was his manner, and mild was his tone.
He answered—"Ere sunset hath crimson'd the sea,
To-morrow—I'll send my young daughter to thee.
"At sunset to-morrow your palace forsake,
With twenty young chiefs seek the isle on yon lake;
And there, in its coolest and pleasantest shades,
My child shall await you with twenty fair maids:
Yes—bright as my armour the damsels shall be
I send with my daughter, Turgesius, to thee."
Turgesius return'd to his palace; to him
The sports of that evening seem'd languid and dim;
And tediously long was the darkness of night,
And slowly the morning unfolded its light;
The sun seem'd to linger—as if it would be
An age ere his setting would crimson the sea.
At length came the moment—the King and his band
With rapture push'd out their light boat from the land;
And bright shone the gems on the armour, and bright
Flash'd their fast-moving oars in the setting sun's light;
And long ere they landed, they saw though the trees
The maiden's white garments that waved in the breeze.
More strong in the lake was the dash of each oar,
More swift the gay vessel flew on to the shore;
Its keel touch'd the pebbles—but over the surf
The youths in a moment had leap'd to the turf,
And rushed to a shady retreat in the wood,
Where many veiled forms mute and motionless stood.
"Say, which is Melachlin's fair daughter? away
With these veils," cried Turgesius, "no longer delay;
Resistance is vain, we will quickly behold
Which robe hides the loveliest face in its fold;
These clouds shall no longer o'ershadow our bliss,
Let each seize a veil—and my trophy be this!"
He seized a white veil, and before him appear'd
No fearful, weak girl—but a foe to be fear'd!
A youth—who sprang forth from his female disguise,
Like lightning that flashes from calm summer skies:
His hand grasp'd a weapon, and wild was the joy
That shone in the glance of the warrior boy.
And under each white robe a youth was conceal'd,
Who met his opponent with sword and with shield.
Turgesius was slain—and the maidens were blest,
Melachlin's fair daughter more blithe than the rest;
And ere the last sunbeam had crimson'd the sea,
They hailed the boy-victors—and Erin was free!