X.
“When all was hushed, at eventide,
I heard the baying of their beagle:
‘Be hushed!’ my Connocht Moran cried,
‘’Tis but the screaming of the eagle.’
Alas! t’was not the eyrie’s sound;
Their bloody bands had tracked us out;
Up-listening starts our couchant hound,
And, hark! again, that nearer shout
Brings faster on the murderers.