CLXXI
KINCORA
(From the Irish)
O, where, Kincora! is Brien the Great?
And where is the beauty that once was thine?
O, where are the princes and nobles that sate
At the feast in thy halls, and drank the red wine?
Where, O, Kincora?
O, where, Kincora! are thy valorous lords?
O, whither, thou Hospitable! are they gone?
O, where are the Dalcassians of the golden swords?
And where are the warriors Brien led on?
Where, O, Kincora?
And where is Donogh, King Brien’s son?
And where is Conàing, the beautiful chief?
And Kiàn and Corc? Alas! they are gone;
They have left me this night alone with my grief!
Left me, Kincora!
O, where is Duvlann of the Swift-footed Steeds?
And where is Kiàn, who was son of Molloy?
And where is king Lonergan, fame of whose deeds
In the red battle no time can destroy?
Where, O, Kincora!
I am MacLaig, and my home is on the lake:
Thither often, to that palace whose beauty is fled,
Came Brien to ask me, and I went for his sake,
O, my grief! that I should live and Brien be dead!
Dead, O, Kincora!
James Clarence Mangan.