A Reading Book in Irish History

by P. W. Joyce

I.

There were four comrades stout and free,
Within the Wood of Barnalee,
Under the spreading oaken tree.

II.

The ragged clouds sailed past the moon;
Loud rose the brawling torrent's [croon];
The rising winds howled in the wood,
Like hungry wolves at scent of blood.
Yet there they sat, in converse free,
Under the spreading oaken tree,—
Garrod the Minstrel, with his lyre,
Sir Hugh le Poer, that heart of fire,
Dark Gilliemore, the mournful [squire],
And Donal, from the banks of [nier].

III.

[spectrally] shone the watch-fire light
On their sun-browned faces and helmets bright
Showing beneath the woodland glooms
Their swords, and [jacks], and waving [plumes];
As there they sat, those comrades free,
Within the Wood of Barnalee,
Under the spreading oaken tree,
And told their tales to you and me.

Robert Dwyer Joyce, M.D.

---