Surely, heavily, surely, slowly.—I ran till I reached our roof in the wood.
“Long ago. This thing the fathers had whispered of, I beheld and heard!
Though not yet my splendid dreamer the answer win to his uttered word,
“Patience: that shall be, hereafter. The chief is late, but he seeks his own,
Riding up to break the quiet in all the farm-lands of all Tyrone.
“They have hid so, they have waited; to hate that smoulders their blood is leal.
O to help them crash around him true Innishowen’s unrusted steel!
“O to help them cheer and follow O’Neil, O’Neil from his foreign grave!
O to throne thee, saddest, fairest, as once thou wert, on the warless wave!
“Drift of moss for many a summer conceals the door on the charmed hillside;