And now they reach the trembling bridge,
Through flooded bottoms swiftly rushing;
Along it heaves a foaming ridge,
Through its rent walls the torrent's gushing.
Across the bridge their way they make,
'Neath Memnon's hoofs the arches shake;
While fierce as hate, and fleet as wind,
Red Raymond follows fast behind.
They've gained, they've gained the farther side!
Through clouds of foam, stout Memnon dashes;
And, as they swiftly onward ride,
Beneath his feet the vext flood splashes.
But as they reach the floodless ground,
The valley rings with a sharp sound;
The aquebus has hurled its rain,
And by it gallant Memnon's slain.
And now behind loud rose the cry—
"The bridge! beware! the bridge is breaking!"
Backwards the scared pursuers fly,
While, like a tyrant, his wrath wreaking,
Rushed the flood, the strong bridge rending,
And its fragments downwards sending;
In its throat Red Raymond swallowed,
While above him the flood bellowed.
Hissing, roaring, in its course,
The shattered bridge before it spurning,
The flood burst down, with giant force,
The oaks of centuries upturning.
The awed pursuers stood aghast;
All hope to reach Kildare's now past
Blest be the Barrow, which thus rose,
To save true lovers from their foes!
And now o'er Clemgaum's Hill appear,
Their white plumes on the breezes dancing,
A gallant troop, with shield and spear,
From Offaley with aid advancing.
Quick to Kildare his soldiers ride,
And raise him up from Memnon's side;
Unhurt he stands, and to his breast,
The Lady Anna Darcy's pressed.
"Kinsmen and friends," exclaimed Kildare,
"Behold my bride, the fair and fearless,
Who broke my chain, and brought me here,
In truth, in love, and beauty, peerless.
Here, at the bridge of Tenachelle,
Amid the friends I love so well,
I swear that until life depart,
She'll rule my home, my soul, my heart!"
MICHAEL FLYNN.
BY WILLIAM THOMSON.
Said Michael Flynn, the lab'ring man,
"Yis, sorr, although oi'm poor,
Sooner than live on charity
I'd beg from door to door."