Ye Geraldines! ye Geraldines!—how royally ye reigned
O'er Desmond broad, and rich Kildare, and English arts disdained:
Your sword made knights, your banner waved, free was your bugle call
By Gleann's[54] ] green slopes, and Daingean's[55] ] tide, from Bearbha's[56] ] banks to Eóchaill.[57] ]
What gorgeous shrines, what breitheamh lore, what minstrel feasts there were
In and around Magh Nuadhaid's[58] ] keep, and palace-filled Adare!
But not for rite or feast ye stayed, when friend or kin were pressed;
And foemen fled, when "Crom Abu"[59] ] bespoke your lance in rest.
V.
Ye Geraldines! ye Geraldines!—since Silken Thomas flung