And lopt off his left hand,
And pale and fierce, as a chief in death,
He hurl'd it to the strand!
"The chief that first can grasp the strand,
May mount at morn and ride;"
Oh, fleet is the steed which the bloody hand,
Through Antrim's glens doth guide!
And legends tell that the proud ladye
Would fain have been unbann'd,
For the chieftain who proved his chieftainry