Dear land of love and happy lot
Of merry maids and swains,
Worthy the martial muse of Scott,
Or Virgil’s pastoral strains;
Loved land, this tongue thy song would share
This votive soul is thine:
Thy lips are loud with praise and prayer,—
Pray God they kindle mine!
[Note:—I am indebted to “The Ecclesiastical History of Down and Connor,” by Rev. James O’Laverty, for the story of the “Blemished King.” Believing it to be comparatively unknown, and desiring, as far as lay in my power, to spread a knowledge of the interesting stories and legends which abound in Irish History and Literature, I translated it into verse. I learn, however, that a poem on the same subject has been written by the late Sir Samuel Ferguson, under the title of “Fergus Wry-mouth.” I can only plead justification for running the inevitable gauntlet of comparison between a giant and a pigmy, on the ground that I had already committed myself to the publication of the present version of the legend before I became aware of the fact mentioned. I have not read the poem by Sir Samuel Ferguson, and I shall not do so until after this volume is in print; but I have written Lady Ferguson on the matter, and she very kindly refuses to see any possible objection to the publication of my rendering of the story, seeing that it contains almost as many stanzas as there are lines in Sir Samuel’s.
The Loch of Rory (
), the centre around which the following story moves, is Dundrum Bay. That bay is still remarkable for its roar, which has been frequently referred to by ancient writers. Even a modern poet (S. K. Cowan, in “Sung by Six”) has written of the bay, “where deep seas moan.” Other evidences point to the identity of Rory and Dundrum, in opposition to the conjectures of some that the present Belfast Lough was the scene of the incidents contained in the “Legend of the Blemished King.”—The Author.]