It bore me buoyant tidings,—your beauty and your grace,—
And, as I galloped forward, I yearned upon your face.
We fared by Abbeydorney, Listowel and Lixnaw,
Where all my word was wisdom, and all my look was law.
We never paused to bivouac; we never paused to sleep
Where murmurous Feale Water ran shallow or ran deep.
[p 49]
]We swam the swirl of Shannon; we hurled back to his lair
The blustering O’Brien who ruled the kerns of Claire.
Then, mire and foam-bespattered, about the dusk of day
We came where Galway’s turrets loomed over Galway’s bay.