Photo—Lawrence, Dublin.
Torc Waterfall, Killarney.
Photo—Lawrence, Dublin.
Ross Castle, Killarney.
Two and a-half miles northwards by the King's Bridge, or about one mile direct from Killarney, within sight of the Lower Lake and the Purple Mountains, are the ruins of Aghadoe, the "Church of the two Yew Trees," founded under the blessing of Saint Finian. The remains of the Round Tower and Abbot's Castle can still be seen, but these and the eighth century doorway of the old church are all that have weathered the wind of centuries. The summit of the old tower is a vantage point for a vista. Dr. Todhunter has written a beautiful ballad, in imitation of the passionate Irish laments, for an outlaw who was buried there.
AGHADOE.
There's a glade in Aghadoe, Aghadoe, Aghadoe,
There's a green and silent glade in Aghadoe,
Where we met, my love and I, love's fair planet in the sky,
O'er that sweet and silent glade in Aghadoe.
There's a glen in Aghadoe, Aghadoe, Aghadoe,
There's a deep and secret glen in Aghadoe,
Where I hid him from the eyes of the redcoats and their spies
That year the trouble came to Aghadoe.
Oh! my curse on one black heart in Aghadoe, Aghadoe;
On Shaun Dhuv, my mother's son, in Aghadoe!
When your throat fries in hell's drouth, salt the flame be in your mouth,
For the treachery you did in Aghadoe!
For they tracked me to that glen in Aghadoe, Aghadoe,
When the price was on his head in Aghadoe;
O'er the mountain, through the wood, as I stole to him with food,
Where in hiding lone he lay in Aghadoe.
But they never took him living in Aghadoe, Aghadoe;
With the bullets in his heart in Aghadoe,
There he lay, the head—my breast keeps the warmth where once 'twould rest—
Gone, to win the traitor's gold, from Aghadoe!
Oh! to creep into that cairn in Aghadoe, Aghadoe,
There to rest upon his breast in Aghadoe!
Sure your dog for you could die with no truer heart than I,
Your own love, cold on your cairn in Aghadoe.
