Successful Recitations

by Unknown

THE ROMANCE OF TENACHELLE.

BY HERCULES ELLIS.

On panting steeds they hurry on,
Kildare, and Darcy's lovely daughter—
On panting steeds they hurry on;
To cross the Barrow's water;
Within her father's dungeon chained,
Kildare her gentle heart had gained;
Now love and she have broke his chain,
And he is free! is free again.

His cloak, by forest boughs is rent,
The long night's toilsome journey showing;
His helm's white plume is wet, and bent,
And backwards o'er his shoulders flowing;
Pale is the lovely lady's cheek,
Her eyes grow dim, her hand is weak;
And, feebly, tries she to sustain,
Her falling horse, with silken rein.

"Now, clasp thy fair arms round my neck,"
Kildare cried to the lovely lady;
"Thy weight black Memnon will not check,
Nor stay his gallop, swift and steady;"
The blush, one moment, dyed her cheek;
The next, her arms are round his neck;
And placed before him on his horse,
They haste, together, on their course.

"Oh! Gerald," cried the lady fair,
Now backward o'er his shoulder gazing,
"I see Red Raymond, in our rear,
And Owen, Darcy's banner raising—
Mother of Mercy! now I see
My father, in their company;
Oh! Gerald, leave me here, and fly,
Enough! enough! for one to die!"

"My own dear love; my own dear love!"
Kildare cried to the lovely lady,
"Fear not, black Memnon yet shall prove,
Than all their steeds, more swift and steady:
But to guide well my gallant horse,
Tasks eye, and hand, and utmost force;
Then look for me, my love, and tell,
What see'st thou now at Tenachelle?"

"I see, I see," the lady cried,
"Now bursting o'er its green banks narrow,
And through the valley spreading wide,
In one vast flood, the Barrow!
The bridge of Tenachelle now seems,
A dark stripe o'er the rushing streams;
For nought above the flood is shown,
Except its parapet alone."

"But can'st thou see," Earl Gerald said,
"My faithful Gallowglasses standing?
Waves the green plume on Milo's head,
For me, at Tenachelle commanding?"
"No men are there," the lady said,
"No living thing, no human aid;
The trees appear, like isles of green,
Nought else, through all the vale is seen."

Deep agony through Gerald passed;
Oh! must she fall, the noble-hearted;
And must this morning prove their last,
By kinsmen and by friends deserted?
Sure treason must have made its way,
Within the courts of Castle Ley;
And kept away the mail-clad ranks
He ordered to the Barrow's banks.

"The chase comes fast," the lady cries;
"Both whip and spur I see them plying;
Sir Robert Verdon foremost hies,
Through Regan's forest flying;
Each moment on our course they gain,
Alas! why did I break thy chain,
And urge thee, from thy prison, here,
To make the mossy turf thy bier?"

"Cheer up! cheer up! my own dear maid,"
Kildare cried to the weeping lady;
"Soon, soon, shall come the promised aid,
With shield and lance for battle ready;
Look out, while swift we ride, and tell
What see'st thou now at Tenachelle.
Does aught on Clemgaum's Hill now move?
Cheer up, and look, my own dear love!"

"Still higher swells the rushing tide,"
The lady said, "along the river;
The bridge wall's rent, with breaches wide,
Beneath its force the arches quiver.
But on Clemgaum I see no plumes;
From Offaly no succour comes;
No banner floats, no trumpet's blown—
Alas! alas! we are alone.

"And now, O God! I see behind,
My father to Red Raymond lending,
His war-horse, fleeter than the wind,
And on our chase, the traitor sending:
He holds the lighted aquebus,
Bearing death to both of us;
Speed, my gallant Memnon, speed,
Nor let us 'neath the ruffian bleed."

"Thy love saved me at risk of life,"
Kildare cried, "when the axe was wielding;
And now I joy, my own dear wife,
To think my breast thy life is shielding;
Thank Heaven no bolt can now reach thee,
That shall not first have passed through me;
For death were mercy to the thought,
That thou, for me, to death were brought."

And now they reach the trembling bridge,
Through flooded bottoms swiftly rushing;
Along it heaves a foaming ridge,
Through its rent walls the torrent's gushing.
Across the bridge their way they make,
'Neath Memnon's hoofs the arches shake;
While fierce as hate, and fleet as wind,
Red Raymond follows fast behind.

They've gained, they've gained the farther side!
Through clouds of foam, stout Memnon dashes;
And, as they swiftly onward ride,
Beneath his feet the vext flood splashes.
But as they reach the floodless ground,
The valley rings with a sharp sound;
The aquebus has hurled its rain,
And by it gallant Memnon's slain.

And now behind loud rose the cry—
"The bridge! beware! the bridge is breaking!"
Backwards the scared pursuers fly,
While, like a tyrant, his wrath wreaking,
Rushed the flood, the strong bridge rending,
And its fragments downwards sending;
In its throat Red Raymond swallowed,
While above him the flood bellowed.

Hissing, roaring, in its course,
The shattered bridge before it spurning,
The flood burst down, with giant force,
The oaks of centuries upturning.
The awed pursuers stood aghast;
All hope to reach Kildare's now past
Blest be the Barrow, which thus rose,
To save true lovers from their foes!

And now o'er Clemgaum's Hill appear,
Their white plumes on the breezes dancing,
A gallant troop, with shield and spear,
From Offaley with aid advancing.
Quick to Kildare his soldiers ride,
And raise him up from Memnon's side;
Unhurt he stands, and to his breast,
The Lady Anna Darcy's pressed.

"Kinsmen and friends," exclaimed Kildare,
"Behold my bride, the fair and fearless,
Who broke my chain, and brought me here,
In truth, in love, and beauty, peerless.
Here, at the bridge of Tenachelle,
Amid the friends I love so well,
I swear that until life depart,
She'll rule my home, my soul, my heart!"